Chapter 6: Public Humiliation and the Turning Point

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I stood up and demanded, “Why did you step on my umbrella?”

My voice shook with fury. I could feel everyone’s eyes on us.

She looked indifferent. “I didn’t notice. Do I have to announce every step I take?”

She shrugged, as if destroying someone’s property was no big deal. Her friends snickered.

I snapped, “Are you out of your mind? Just because someone calls you out, you bully them like this?”

My hands shook. I could barely keep my voice steady. I’d never felt so powerless and angry at the same time.

Being called out in public, Marge exploded. She pointed at me and shouted, “The new supervisor’s here and you think you’re somebody now? Who told you to glare at me just now?”

Her voice was shrill, echoing off the walls. People peeked out from behind cubicles, curious and afraid. Some whispered, a few raised their phones as if ready to record.

I shot back, “So you’re special? No one can glare at you?”

I took a step forward, refusing to back down. The room felt electric, like something big was about to happen.

“That’s right! I am more special than you. My brother-in-law is an executive. You’re just a lowly worker—so what?”

She tossed her head, her earrings swinging. The arrogance in her voice made my skin crawl.

Someone who doesn’t rely on ability, but shamelessly flaunts connections—how twisted is that?

I shook my head, disgusted. I’d worked too hard to be dismissed like this.

Still not satisfied, she cursed, “All because of a broken umbrella you keep picking fights with me all day. You’re just a nobody—get out!”

She jabbed a finger at the door. Her friends gasped, then burst into laughter.

She actually told me to get out?

For a moment, I couldn’t believe it. After everything, this was how she treated people?

Yes, those of us without connections can only work hard for money. But is that wrong? Without us, how could people like her live so comfortably? Don’t they have any self-awareness?

I looked around at my coworkers—good people, all of them. We kept the place running, even if no one noticed.

I clenched my fist and said coldly, “Who are you telling to get out? Say it again if you dare!”

My voice was steady now. I met her gaze, unflinching.

“I’ll say it ten times! You’re just a lowly worker—get out!”

She leaned in, her voice dripping with contempt. Her friends cheered her on.

She covered her mouth, feigning surprise. “Oh, my mistake. You’re not even a worker anymore—soon you won’t have a job at all.”

She winked at her friends, who howled with laughter. The cruelty stung.

Her clique burst out laughing.

The sound was deafening, echoing through the office. My cheeks burned with humiliation.