Chapter 3

"Claire, here are your badge and the team roster."

The HR representative at my new company handed me a folder. The badge had our rival brand's logo on it, with my name and new title printed underneath: "PR Director".

"CEO Ethan Hayes said you have full authority over the team setup. You can report the budget directly to him."

I took the badge and hung it around my neck. The protective film on the back was still intact, shiny and brand new.

On my third day, I had my father transferred to the ICU at the top-tier pediatric and general hospital in the city.

My signing bonus and my first month's salary were just enough to cover the deposit. I still had to figure out how to pay for the rest of his treatment.

On Monday, the attending physician called me.

"Claire, the CT results are back. The tissue necrosis is larger than last time. I highly recommend surgery, but the cost will be around two hundred thousand dollars."

"Let’s proceed with conservative treatment for now," I said. "I’ll find a way to get the money."

After hanging up, I sat in my new office, staring at a blank Excel sheet.

On my fifth day, an intern from the PR department peeked over the cubicle wall. "Claire, did you check YouTube? There's a video trending right now. It looks like it’s in our industry."

I clicked open YouTube.

An account named "Kiki's Mom Braving the Storm" had posted a series of photos. The baby's face was covered in horrific red rashes and open sores. The caption was short:

"My daughter’s face was ruined three days after using a certain brand’s baby cream. I’m a single mother, and I can’t afford a lawyer. I just want an explanation."

The corner of the cream packaging was visible in the photo.

I zoomed in on the image, focusing on the color code and the batch number. It was my old company’s product.

The comment section already had over two thousand entries. Some were cursing the brand, some claimed the photos were photoshopped, and others were posting links to my old company’s past scandals.

I scrolled down.

When I reached the fourth image, my heart skipped a beat.

The mother's profile picture was a sunflower.

I knew her.

Sarah Jenkins, thirty-one, living in a cramped apartment in a run-down suburb. Three years ago, she was the very first person to stand up and demand justice.

I had paid nine thousand dollars of her medical bills out of my own pocket and stayed with her in the pediatric ICU for three nights before she finally agreed not to sue.

That five-hundred-member support group had been built around her.

Those victims didn’t trust my old company. They didn’t even trust the compensation package.

They trusted me.

And just a week ago, I had abandoned them.

My phone buzzed again. My former colleague Ashley had shared the video on Instagram with the caption: "Chloe said we crush these extortionists on sight."

I put my phone down and closed my eyes for three seconds.

Then, I opened my old company’s official website.

There was no response yet.

But Chloe’s personal Instagram had just been updated with an aesthetic office photo. Her caption read: "Justice will not be silent."

I picked up my phone and dialed Lily’s number. It rang five times before she picked up.

"Claire?" Her voice sounded noticeably cold and distant.

"Lily, did you see the YouTube video about the baby?"

"Yeah. Chloe is already handling it. She says the woman is just trying to scam us—"

"She’s not a scammer," I lowered my voice. "Her name is Sarah Jenkins. She’s the leader of the Sunflower Support Group. Tell Chloe to take down her Instagram post immediately, contact Sarah privately, apologize, and pay her. This is not someone you want to mess with."

The line went silent for a second.

Then, I heard a soft, arrogant chuckle. It wasn’t Lily’s.

She had me on speakerphone.

"Claire, are you so bored at your new job that you have time to monitor our social media?"

Chloe’s voice came through the speaker, sounding incredibly smug and lazy.

"I’m warning you, Sarah is—"

"A single mother living in the slums?" Chloe interrupted me. "Keep your 'victim worship' to yourself, Claire. I just came out of a meeting with Legal. We’re going to publicly expose her—"

"You can’t do that!"

Raymond’s cold sneer came from the background: "Claire, trying to sabotage us just because you got fired? How pathetic."

Then, the line went dead.

I stared at the call ended screen and took a deep breath.

The new intern poked his head through my door. "Claire, CEO Ethan Hayes wants to know if you're free for a pitch meeting at three p.m."

"Tell him I'll be there."

I closed YouTube and flipped my phone face down on the desk.

But Chloe’s words kept ringing in my head: "We’re going to publicly expose her."