I tried entering the correct password, but it repeatedly indicated an incorrect entry.

The following day, I arrived at the company on time. However, I discovered the office was locked when I reached the door. Many employees looked on curiously, seemingly amused by my predicament. As I was about to assume the keypad was broken and call a locksmith, Racquelle arrived. Carrying a designer handbag, she approached me with a mocking, vile sneer: “Johna, didn’t anyone tell you this office is no longer yours?”

I looked at her calmly and asked, “What do you mean?”

She grinned smugly and pointed toward the storage room at the end of the hallway. “Starting today, your office is in there.” She watched me with gleeful anticipation, as if waiting to see how I would react.

After a moment of silence, I stood up and walked into the storage room. Inside was a rickety desk and a broken-down chair, along with some clutter that emitted a musty odor. I walked in with a calm demeanor, accustomed to her oppression and humiliation as if they were a part of my daily routine. The desk was uneven, so I used some old books from the storage room to level it out. The chair was falling apart, so I sat on it with my jacket underneath for padding.

These challenges weren’t much to me; after all, I only had a month left. As long as I could endure, victory would soon be mine.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the storage room door. The department head walked in and placed a stack of documents on my desk. “Mr. Smith, here are the contracts for today. Please review and sign them.” They quickly left the room, clearly unable to tolerate the odor.

I calmly flipped through the contracts. I was alarmed to see Vernon’s name in the collaborator section of the latest contract and immediately began reviewing the document carefully. Racquelle canceled the collaboration with the old client just to work with him, and the price was 25 percent higher than what we offered the old client. A chill ran through me, and an ominous premonition took hold. It seemed she had been dazzled by him, leading her to make such a reckless decision.

I wanted to find her to discuss this, as this collaboration could not go to Vernon. But she wasn’t in the office. Racquelle’s secretary, Reyna Beard, glanced at me. Although she still spoke to me politely, her words were laced with disdain and sarcasm, which she didn’t hesitate to express. “Mr. Smith, are you looking for Ms. Smith? She just stepped out.”

I looked at her seriously and asked, “Where did she go?” She shook her head. “How would I know where she went? I’m just a secretary.”

I pulled out my phone to call Racquelle, but every time I tried to reach her, she either didn’t answer or turned off her phone in annoyance. Seeing the contract in my hand, Reyna quickly reminded me, “Mr. Smith, that contract was personally drafted by Ms. Smith this morning.” “What? She drafted it herself?” I was stunned as I stared at her in disbelief. “Is she out of her mind?”