After the company team-building event, I hitched a ride back to the office with my colleague, Eva, to put in some overtime. That same night, Eva’s boyfriend, using her account, went ballistic in the main company group chat. He accused me of being a homewrecker, of preying on Eva, and posted a series of poorly photoshopped, intimate pictures of us as “proof.” The company called us in for a meeting. Eva, to my shock, claimed I had been harassing her for weeks, piling on a mountain of false accusations. Citing a negative impact on the company culture, they fired me. My protégé, Leo, spoke up for me and was immediately ostracized and bullied until he quit with severe depression. I stormed back to the company to demand justice for Leo, but in the ensuing scuffle, I was pushed down a flight of stairs. My head hit the ground, and I died instantly. When I opened my eyes again, I was right back at the moment Eva’s boyfriend began his tirade in the company group chat. 1 [This is Eva Chen’s boyfriend, Connor Hayes.] [I am officially filing a complaint against Marcus Vance, a man fifteen years older than my girlfriend, for being a homewrecker!] [Eva has already confessed everything. Marcus Vance has been using his senior position to pressure and manipulate her, trying to force her into a relationship.] [Just a little while ago, he pretended to be drunk so he could sit in the passenger seat of her car. I’m sure everyone here knows what the passenger seat means. It’s reserved for a partner, a place no other man should be!] [Marcus Vance, this is a blatant provocation! I’ve had enough, and I’m not staying silent any longer! I hope the company takes this seriously and doesn’t let one rotten apple spoil the barrel!] My phone buzzed relentlessly as Connor, using Eva’s account, spammed the company-wide group chat. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. The searing pain of tumbling down the stairs, of my skull cracking against the floor, felt like a distant, horrifying nightmare. My department colleagues started a side chat. [@Marcus, what’s going on?] My protégé, Leo Grant, sent me a private message: [Mentor, is this guy insane? Don’t worry, I’ll go tear him a new one!] In my past life, Leo had done just that. He’d jumped into the main chat and challenged Connor for making baseless accusations. In response, Connor had posted a few fake, intimate photos of Eva and me. Leo was mocked for "asking for proof and getting it." People said we were "birds of a feather," that a young, handsome man like him must have slept his way into his position. He was shunned, harassed, and driven into a deep depression. The memory made my teeth ache with fury. I typed back to him: [Don’t. If a dog bites you, do you bite it back? You handle a rabid dog with the right medicine, not by getting in the mud with it.] I ignored the messages in the smaller group chat. They weren't concerned; they were just vultures looking for front-row seats to the gossip. In my last life, I’d considered Eva. She was a new hire, not even confirmed yet. I figured if I made a big deal out of her boyfriend’s tantrum, this young graduate would lose her job in a tough market. So, I treated it as a bad joke and let it go. That was my mistake. My silence gave my enemies in the company the opening they needed. They worked through the night, and with Eva’s false testimony, I was left defenseless. This time, I would not be a silent lamb led to the slaughter. As the Director of Marketing, I had authority. I opened the main company group chat. [@Ian Croft, Director of Tech. These are obviously AI-generated fakes. Could you please verify and clear my name?] [@Eva Chen. You have the right to remain silent. But everything you say from this point on will be used as evidence in a defamation lawsuit against you. @William Owen, Director of Legal & Compliance, please bear witness.] [@Sean Price, Head of PR. Please monitor the situation closely to prevent any damage to the company’s public image resulting from employee Eva Chen’s personal vendetta.] After sending those messages, I switched to my department’s group chat. [@everyone. Meeting tomorrow morning, 8:30 AM, main conference room. Attendance is mandatory.] The next morning at 8:30, the large conference room was packed. I scanned the room but didn’t see the star of the show. “Where’s Eva?” Yara, the leader of Marketing Team One, spoke up. “Mr. Vance, Eva messaged me last night. She said she had a fight with her boyfriend and might be a little late today.” A low murmur of whispers filled the room. “Did she request leave?” I asked Yara. Yara seemed completely unbothered. “No, but she gave me a heads-up.” I set my pen down with a sharp clack. “No leave request means she’s AWOL.” Her eyes darted around, but she still tried to argue. “But Mr. Vance, we’ve always had flexible hours. She reported to me, so technically, it’s allowed.” 2 We were a marketing department. When things got busy, the line between work and personal time blurred completely. That’s why I’d fought management to get us a flexible work schedule, all while I was out wining and dining clients, pulling in deals to keep us afloat. But my goodwill had been twisted into a loophole for tardiness and early departures. I knew everyone had their struggles, so I’d chosen to turn a blind eye. And now, here we were. An intern, not even a permanent employee, was using a fight with her boyfriend as a legitimate reason to be late. Limitless tolerance only breeds shamelessness. I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming a light rhythm on the tabletop. “Effective today, the flexible work policy is canceled. All future exceptions will be handled on a case-by-case basis.” I used to believe people had hearts. That if you showed kindness to your colleagues, they’d return the favor. But the memory of how they all turned on me in my past life was a slap in the face, hot and stinging. Fine. If kindness didn't work, let cold, hard rules govern them. Get paid, do the work, follow the rules. It was that simple. The lazy atmosphere in the room evaporated. Employees who had been slouched in their chairs sat up straight, defiance in their eyes. The most agitated of them all was Ian Croft, the Deputy Director of Marketing. I had personally promoted Ian. He came from a poor background but was smart and ambitious, so I gave him every opportunity, fast-tracking his career until he became the youngest deputy director in the company. I thought of myself as his mentor. But in my previous life, when Eva and her boyfriend slandered me, he was the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, exploiting my weaknesses to ensure I never recovered. Right now, his face was red, neck veins bulging as he slammed his hand on the table. “Mr. Vance, we’re a sales department! We’re judged on results, not on punching a clock like some back-office drone! This rigid system will kill our team’s motivation!” As expected, his outburst fueled the dissent. “He’s right! We’re not a 9-to-5 department.” “How are we supposed to close deals with rules this strict?” “And have you been closing deals?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. I pulled up the last quarter’s performance report on the main screen. After removing the massive deals I had personally brought in, the top-performing team was Marketing Team Two, led by Leo, with a 200% completion rate. As for the other five teams? Their completion rates were all under 50%. The room fell silent. In the face of hard data, all their eloquent complaints sounded like nothing more than empty excuses. “You’re a homewrecker who preys on interns! A man with no morals like you has no right to lead us!” Ian ripped off his glasses and threw them on the table, looking ready for a fight. I couldn’t understand the depth of his malice, his obsessive need to destroy me. “Sorry, I’m late.” The conference room door swung open, and Eva walked in, her makeup perfect, a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. Just like in my last life, she put on a pitiful expression the moment she entered. “Yesterday, Mr. Vance insisted on taking my boyfriend’s special passenger seat, and he got caught,” she lamented to the entire room. She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, pointing to a barely visible red mark on her collarbone. “He did this. Men get so scary when they’re jealous.” She then looked directly at me. “Mr. Vance, you have to take responsibility for this. How about you compensate me by fast-tracking my confirmation?” Compensation? Early confirmation? I laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “First, all confirmations go through a formal review process. Exceptions are only made for truly outstanding performance. Eva, do you believe you’ve done something particularly outstanding?” Eva tossed her sunglasses on the table and put a hand on her hip. “Of course. I’m exceptionally beautiful!” The room erupted in laughter. My face hardened, a wave of sadness washing over me. At 25, you should be hustling, building a career. Yet Eva treated her job like a joke. So many graduates were unemployed, but here she was, holding a golden ticket and treating it like trash. “Is something funny?” My voice was ice. “Eva, you’re here to work, not to flirt. Furthermore, I am your superior, not a prop in some game you’re playing with your boyfriend. Taking your passenger seat was an accident. We have no personal relationship outside of work. Please handle your private disputes on your own time and do not let them affect this company.” She was clearly stunned. I had always been easygoing, but now I was publicly reprimanding her in front of the entire department. Eva’s face darkened. “Mr. Vance, it was just a joke. You don’t have to be so serious. You’re making things awkward for everyone.” Ian jumped to her defense. “Yeah, Marcus, we’re all colleagues here. No need to pull rank.” He then lowered his voice, but just enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Besides, if you hadn't been hitting on her, why would she be talking to you like this in the first place?” With Ian leading the charge, a few female colleagues started chiming in with their own snide remarks. “Seriously, 40 and still single. Maybe he’s not even into women?” “More like women aren’t into him. At his age, he’s probably shooting blanks.” “A guy that handsome and not married? He’s probably being kept by some rich old cougar. What a player—getting paid by an old woman on one side while paying for a young beauty on the other. All I can say is, what a legend.” 3 I looked at their faces. They were all familiar. Even the newest among them had been with me for three years. For years, I pushed them internally, tracking their performance and rankings. But externally, I would take the big deals I personally landed and distribute the commission among the underperformers, ensuring everyone got a good bonus at the end of the year. But now I knew. In their eyes, those hard-won deals were the product of me selling my body. They felt no gratitude, only a deep-seated contempt. In my last life, when I was being slandered, these same women didn’t just stay silent; they joined in on the attack. I remembered a time when they would bring me small gifts, like coffee or pastries, to thank me for my support. The gratitude in their eyes back then—I’m sure I didn't imagine it. Eventually the gifts stopped, but the cheers when the year-end bonuses were announced were real. They would always say, “Thanks, Mr. Vance!” What had changed them? Was it my own leniency? Had they become numb from taking my kindness for granted? Or was it something else? Whatever the reason, if my goodwill was being treated like dirt, then I was taking it back. “Starting this quarter, all performance reports, internal and external, will be unified. If you want to make money, if you want a bonus, you’ll earn it with your own performance.” With that, I turned and walked out of the conference room. Before the door had fully closed, I heard the sound of a table being slammed, followed by a string of curses. “Holy shit! The bastard is serious!” “Who does he think he is? He’s an old man about to get fired anyway, and he wants to screw us over on his way out!” On my way back to my office, I was intercepted by the CEO’s assistant. In the CEO’s office, I found Eva sitting primly, the HR director looking stern, and Ian, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. I rubbed my temples. Even in this new life, where I had immediately refuted the claims and our tech director had already confirmed the photos were fake, was I still destined to be fired? “Marcus.” A clear, pleasant voice broke my thoughts. Isabella Thorne, CEO of Thorne Industries. And also, my ex-girlfriend. Thorne Industries was the company we had built together from the ground up. I handled sales; she managed operations. We started with nothing and created an empire. But one day, she told me she was tired of it, that all she felt for me was friendship. So, we broke up amicably and remained colleagues. I could live without loving Isabella, but I had poured my blood and sweat into this company. I had no reason to walk away. People can betray you, but money and hard work never will. “I know about the situation with you and Eva,” Isabella said, frowning as if the whole affair was a massive inconvenience for her. “This has created a significant negative impact on the company. My decision is that you should take a temporary leave of absence.” “What impact?” I countered, my fists clenching. “The moment this happened, I clarified the situation, preserved the evidence, and notified PR to manage the narrative. Right now, this is purely an internal matter. And it’s painfully obvious that I am the victim here. Suspending me is punishing the victim!” In my last life, the story had leaked immediately. The media ran with sensational headlines like #ProtectOurGirls, and my colleagues eagerly gave interviews that fanned the flames. I was forced to resign to protect the company's image. But this time, the media was silent. The company had no legitimate reason to fire me. “I have a complaint letter right here!” Ian held up a piece of paper. “This is a joint letter signed by more than half of the sales department, formally accusing Marketing Director Marcus Vance of using his position to harass female colleagues, severely damaging the workplace environment!” Ian’s eyes burned with intensity. “Marcus, maybe the photos with Eva were fake, but you can’t claim that all these people are lying, can you?” I glanced at the letter. The signatures belonged to the same women who had just been mocking me. They had enjoyed my generosity, and now they were biting the hand that fed them. “Isabella, what’s your take on this?” I asked, looking directly at her. It was a clumsy, obvious frame-up. Anyone with a brain could see through it. But you can’t wake someone who’s pretending to be asleep. “This is a very difficult situation for me,” Isabella said, avoiding my gaze. “Public opinion within the company is strong. I have to respect the will of the majority.” The HR director slid a document across the table toward me. The words “Notice of Suspension” were printed in bold letters. “The company has taken into consideration the difficulty of finding new employment at 40,” the HR director said smoothly. “This is the best solution we can offer. Once this blows over, you are welcome to return to the company in a different position.” Difficulty finding employment at 40. A reminder that I was old, that if I didn’t accept their terms, I’d be out on the street. And “a different position” was just a pretty way of saying a demotion, a move to the sidelines. Unbelievable. After everything I’d done, they were casting me aside like a used-up tool. But they didn’t know. I had died once already. Did they really think I would go down without a fight this time? Back in my office, I poured myself a coffee. I don’t know when the addiction started, but now I couldn’t get through a day without one. Ian pushed the door open without knocking, his arms crossed smugly. “This office is mine now. You have one hour to pack your things and get out.”
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