1 The day annual bonuses landed, mine came in a box of condoms. “Sales is just the company’s red-light district. All those numbers? From boozing and sleeping around.” I looked up at the secretary, her face stretched into a lewd grin. “Having a blast and making bank? I wouldn’t mind that gig.” A few crude chuckles echoed through the conference room. I snapped my laptop shut, pushing back from the table. Leaning by the window, I opened my messenger. A message from the VP of our rival company, three days old, still sat there. “Ms. Graham, thought about it? Bring your clients over, and the VP spot is yours.” … More lewd laughter drifted from the conference room behind me. Then came Mr. Henderson’s reedy, squawking voice: “Walk out that door, and don’t you dare regret it!” I didn’t look back, striding purposefully towards the open-plan office. Linda, her ten-centimeter heels clicking, chased after me. She deliberately raised her voice in the hallway: “Oh, come on, Ms. Graham, stop pretending you’re so high and mighty.” “Without this company, you’re nothing. And don’t forget to pick up that box of condoms from accounting. Mr. Henderson’s little severance gift.” Colleagues glanced over, whispering. I stopped, sweeping a cold gaze over her. Linda hugged her arms, a triumphant, sneering smile plastered across her face. Instead of getting mad, I smirked, turning towards my workstation. Last month’s sales reports still sat piled on my desk. That was the result of three consecutive all-nighters, my team and I burning the midnight oil. Just ten minutes ago, Mr. Henderson had, with a casual flick of his wrist, erased it all. I looked at the familiar faces beyond my cubicle. Josh kept his head down, pretending to type, his shoulders trembling slightly. Ms. Lee, eyes red-rimmed, shot me a look of suppressed fury. In that moment, my last shred of hesitation vanished. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. The screen showed a message from Mr. Chen, the VP of Genesis Tech, our competitor. “Ms. Graham, what’s your decision?” My fingers flew across the screen. “I’m bringing the project. I want the Sales Director position.” He replied almost instantly. “Deal. Contract’s ready, car’s downstairs.” I shoved my phone back into my pocket and started packing. I didn’t bother with the box full of random junk. I just unplugged my encrypted USB drive. Then, I opened my laptop, my fingers dancing across the keyboard. After copying the core client data, I deleted the files directly. Leaving behind only a heap of worthless surface-level data in the company system. Once that was done, I shut down the computer, feeling utterly refreshed. Mr. Henderson burst out of his office, I hadn't even noticed him. He stared at my empty desk, the jowls on his face quivering. “Iris Graham, if you walk out that door, I’ll make sure no one in this industry ever hires you!” He pointed a finger at my nose, roaring, “Everyone knows your dirty little secrets! Don’t think changing places will magically clean up your act!” Here we go again with the sleazy rumors. It was his usual tactic, trying to corner me with that kind of low-down garbage. I cut him off impatiently: “Mr. Henderson, save it.” I casually unclipped my ID badge from my neck. In front of everyone, I tore the badge cleanly in half. With a flick of my wrist, the pieces landed precisely in the nearby trash bin. “Keep your threats and your condoms for yourself. Be careful not to screw yourself over.” The entire floor fell silent. Mr. Henderson’s face turned scarlet with rage, his mouth agape, unable to utter a word. I picked up my bag and walked out without a backward glance. Stepping out of the company building, the late autumn chill wind hit my face, yet it felt exhilarating. A black Maybach was parked by the curb. Mr. Chen, the VP himself, got out and opened the car door for me. “Ms. Graham, welcome to Genesis.” No talk of probation periods, just the core employment contract. I signed my name, watching the passing scenery outside the window. I pulled out my phone and posted on social media. The accompanying photo was my brand-new Genesis Tech ID badge. The caption was just a simple line. “New beginnings. Making money with my brains, not my looks.” A few minutes later, my phone vibrated furiously. 2 The day after I left, my old company was in an uproar. According to Josh’s whispered messages, the sales department was in complete chaos. Mr. Henderson slammed the printed client list onto Linda’s face. “That Iris broad always hogged the resources, now they’re yours!” He pointed at the long list, roaring, “Go close those deals! Prove that sales is all about looks!” Linda, holding the folder with only contact information, was brimming with confidence. She changed into a low-cut, tight red dress, her perfume so strong you could smell it two blocks away. Her first target was the multi-million-dollar client, Mr. Thompson from Apex Group. Linda, with two fresh-out-of-college girls in tow, marched straight to Apex Group’s building. She thought it would be the same old song and dance she used to pull with Mr. Henderson. But I knew Mr. Thompson too well. He was a true go-getter, utterly disgusted by suggestive “public relations” tactics. Sure enough, less than half an hour later, Linda emerged, looking utterly deflated. Not only did Mr. Thompson refuse to see her, he called a complaint directly to the company’s front desk. “Tell your Mr. Henderson that if he sends any more inappropriate people to harass us, he can expect a legal letter!” Mr. Henderson, in his office, furiously smashed a cup. Unwilling to scold Linda, he turned his wrath on the rest of the sales department. “It’s all your fault for not backing up Director Linda properly!” “A bunch of useless hacks! Can’t even handle one client!” My former colleague, Ms. Lee, was crying uncontrollably on the phone. “Iris, we can’t take it anymore.” “Mr. Henderson is forcing us to give clients gifts, entertain them at dinners, and even hinting that the female employees should follow Linda’s lead…” I clenched my phone, my voice turning colder. “Hang in there for two more days. The real show’s coming.” Hanging up, I looked at the dense data analysis on my computer screen. At Genesis Tech, I hadn’t wasted a second, working through the night to churn out a proposal. Completely discarding my old company’s “drinking culture.” Mr. Thompson agreed to my invitation. The meeting was set for a quiet business tea room. I didn’t order alcohol, opting instead for a pot of premium Pu-erh tea. I placed the thick analysis report on the table, sliding it towards Mr. Thompson. “Mr. Thompson, this is the proposal tailored for Apex Group.” Mr. Thompson flipped through a few pages, his brows slowly relaxing. “Ms. Graham, you truly understand me.” He closed the document, sighing, “The new people at that previous company are an insult to my intelligence.” I smiled faintly, refilling his teacup. “Professionals handle professional matters, Mr. Thompson. We only discuss business.” The meeting was very productive. Not only did I secure Mr. Thompson’s verbal commitment, but I also gained a crucial piece of information. My former company’s supply chain had a major vulnerability. Since I used to manage supply chain coordination, I knew exactly where their weak points were. At an industry gala that weekend, fate ensured a run-in. Mr. Henderson and Linda arrived, dressed to the nines. Linda was clinging to Mr. Henderson’s arm, her dress slit almost to her thigh. Upon seeing me, she deliberately raised her voice. “Well, well, isn’t it Iris Graham, the one who got kicked out?” All eyes in the vicinity instantly converged on us. Linda sauntered over, swaying her hips, scrutinizing my business attire. “Think you can close deals just by jumping to the competition? Or are you back to sleeping your way to the top?” Mr. Henderson let out a grating, cold laugh beside her. “Iris Graham, even a dump like Genesis can take you in?” “Heard it was Mr. Chen himself who picked you up? Guess you only have talent in that one area.” Their vulgar words echoed through the gala hall. Many people started pointing and whispering about me. I held my glass of juice, watching the two clowns. In that moment, I felt no anger, only a detached amusement, like watching a poorly acted play. 3 Facing Linda’s malicious slander, I didn’t descend into a shouting match like a fishwife. Instead, I merely turned slightly, smiling at the industry titans around me. “Mr. Henderson’s company culture is certainly… unique.” I said, unhurriedly, “After all, when annual bonuses are condoms, I just can’t appreciate that kind of generosity.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was just clear enough for everyone nearby to hear. A stir went through the crowd, many revealing looks of disdain. Mr. Henderson’s face instantly turned ashen, as if he’d been slapped hard. Infuriated, he pointed at me: “Iris Graham, you just wait!” After the gala, Mr. Henderson didn’t let up. He aggressively spread rumors in several industry group chats, each with hundreds of members. He claimed I’d stolen trade secrets from my former company, even Photoshopped some explicit images. All in an attempt to completely ruin my reputation before the Apex Group tender. Whispers started circulating within Genesis Tech as well. People gossiped in the break room, questioning whether I would bring negative publicity to the company. “That Ms. Graham, her reputation isn’t great, is it?” “Why did Mr. Chen hire someone like her?” Mr. Chen, the VP, walked straight in, slamming a file onto the table. “I value Ms. Graham’s capability.” He scanned the room, his voice icy: “These underhanded tactics just prove our competitor is desperate. Anyone caught gossiping will be out the door.” Standing outside the door, a warmth spread through me. With the company trusting me so much, I couldn’t afford to lose. I didn’t rush to defend myself in the group chats; that would be a waste of time. Instead, I contacted a lawyer directly, getting all of Mr. Henderson’s defamatory screenshots and recordings notarized. At the same time, I reached out to a few former clients who had been burned by Mr. Henderson. We were going to team up and prepare a big surprise for him. The Apex Group bidding conference arrived as scheduled. Mr. Henderson and Linda, with their team, arrived in full force. They carried a beautifully bound proposal. Just a glance at the cover told me it was a plagiarism of an old, discarded draft of mine. Even the formatting hadn’t changed. Linda cornered me by the lounge door. She leaned in, smugly, “Don’t bother, Ms. Graham.” “Mr. Thompson privately agreed that as long as tonight…” She gave an ambiguous wink: “The contract’s ours. Your boring data won’t do anything.” I looked at her as if she were a hopelessly foolish child. “You don’t even know what Mr. Thompson detests most, and you think you’ll win the bid?” Mr. Thompson had a daughter who had been harassed early in her career. That’s why he loathed workplace quid pro quo above all else. Linda was dancing in a minefield, thinking she was waltzing. I couldn’t be bothered to enlighten her, merely sneering, “Is that so? Well, I hope you have a pleasant evening.” Both parties entered the conference room. Mr. Henderson sat opposite me, glaring menacingly. He raised a hand to his neck, miming a throat-slitting gesture. His lips clearly formed: “You’re toast.” I calmly opened my laptop. Mr. Thompson entered, his expression stern. His gaze flickered with distaste as it swept over Linda’s overly revealing dress. When he looked at me, he gave a slight nod. 4 Linda was the first to present. She swayed her hips to the projector screen, as confident as if she were on a red carpet. “At Cornerstone, we boast industry-leading service philosophies…” The entire presentation was a display of provocative posing, with the PPT content utterly vacuous. It was filled with suggestive phrases like “dedicated service” and “premium experience.” When she reached the crucial technical aspects, she stumbled. “Uh… well…” She had to turn to the technician beside her for help, and the atmosphere grew incredibly awkward. Mr. Thompson cut her off coldly: “Mr. Henderson, is this your idea of commitment?” Mr. Henderson immediately broke into a cold sweat, stammering, “Well… Mr. Thompson, we can discuss the terms further…” Mr. Thompson waved his hand impatiently: “Next.” I adjusted my blazer, picked up the clicker, and walked to the stage. My presence commanded the room. No wasted words, just solid data and logical arguments. I pointed to the line graph on the screen: “From what I understand, Cornerstone’s current inventory turnover rate isn’t sufficient to meet Mr. Thompson’s demands.” That sentence struck Mr. Henderson’s Achilles’ heel directly. He slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet: “Iris Graham! You’re leaking former company secrets!” He pointed at me, roaring, “Mr. Thompson, this is corporate espionage! She stole all this data!” He tried to disrupt the meeting, to muddy the waters. I looked at him calmly, a mocking curve to my lips. “Mr. Henderson, these figures are derived from your publicly available financial reports.” “Is it so hard to admit to poor management?” My gaze was sharp: “Also, this is my professional integrity. Unlike some people who only focus their energy on how to hand out condoms to employees.” The room erupted in laughter. Mr. Thompson couldn’t help but smile, his admiration unconcealed. Mr. Henderson’s face turned beet red, but he couldn’t utter a single word in rebuttal. Mr. Thompson announced on the spot: “No further discussion needed.” He closed his folder: “I’m very satisfied with Genesis Tech’s proposal. Ms. Graham, let’s sign.” He completely ignored the Cornerstone group. Linda wasn’t giving up, trying to rush over to flirt and win him back: “Mr. Thompson, please reconsider…” Mr. Thompson frowned and called security. “Please escort this lady out. This is a conference room, not a nightclub.” Linda was dragged out by security, her arm in their grip, having lost one of her high heels. Mr. Henderson’s face was ashen, watching the multi-million-dollar contract fall into my hands. All his arrogance was extinguished in that moment. Walking out of the conference room, Mr. Henderson slumped, utterly defeated, onto a bench in the hallway. Like a mangy dog with its back broken. I walked up to him, looking down at him. “Mr. Henderson, I told you.” “Multi-million dollar contracts aren’t signed by taking off your clothes.” “This project? I’m taking it.” The glass door of the conference room was violently shoved open with a loud thud. Mr. Henderson, face red and tie askew, stormed out. He slammed a thick stack of files onto Ms. Lee’s desk, sending papers flying everywhere. “Useless! What good are you all, you good-for-nothings!”
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