Chapter 8: Who's the Villain?

Michael is a clear-headed man. He knew I minded, so he never gave Laura another chance to fantasize.

He restructured the office, passing Laura’s high-profile tasks to Heather, keeping things strictly professional. I noticed, even if he never said a word.

Without Michael’s support, Laura was given the most basic tasks. Her desk was moved closer to the copy machine, away from the action.

I never told anyone to exclude her. In offices like ours, people know how to curry favor and trample the weak.

The grapevine worked overtime. My friends told me Laura ate lunch alone, her phone untouched while assistants swapped stories over takeout and Slack notifications pinged.

In less than half a month, Laura lost weight, her clothes hanging looser, her steps quieter. No more Instagram posts—just silence.

After an executive meeting, Laura was left to clean the conference room. She knelt in her suit skirt, scraping gum off the carpet while a Slack notification pinged on her ignored phone. The Roomba’s hum filled the room.

Michael returned unexpectedly, pausing in the doorway to watch her struggle. Laura, sensing him, stood up awkwardly, blade clutched to her chest, breathing fast like a child caught cheating.

"Mr. Jennings."

Tears fell before she realized it. Michael had always been the sun she admired but could never reach. Now, seen at her lowest, she wanted to run.

Her mascara streaked, head bowed, humiliation written all over her.

In just weeks, the bright, lively girl had become fragile.

For the first time, Michael lost his temper at home. He smashed the water glass I handed him, shards glittering under the kitchen lights.

"Why won’t you let her go?"

"Rachel, I respect and love you, and I’ve tolerated your repeated insults and harm to her. What satisfaction do you get from bullying the weak?"

His voice was thick with anger and disappointment. The kitchen felt colder than January. For the first time, I wasn’t sure who the villain really was.