Chapter 9: Tables Turned

By the time Tanya, red-faced and fuming, reached the 25th floor, I was already seated in the VIP lounge, coffee in hand. The receptionist greeted me, "Ms. Reed, can I get you anything else?"

Tanya stormed in, screeching. "Natalie Reed! This is our company’s VIP lounge. You don’t belong here! Security! Get her out before she ruins Heaton’s image!"

She slammed her access card against the reader, but it beeped in protest—deactivated. Security moved in, professional but firm, ignoring her wild threats about HR and social media. Tanya struggled, cursing as they guided her out.

I smiled, raising my phone to record. One guard looked to me. "Ms. Reed, is this correct?"

I nodded, calm. For once, Tanya was the one escorted out, and I didn’t have to lift a finger.