Whispers and Warnings

Was this for real? My paycheck barely covered rent, student loans, and health insurance—now they wanted me to swallow a $30,000 loss? I looked around, half-expecting someone to break character and start laughing.

My monthly salary is $750. I’d have to work like a dog for three years just to pay back that $30,000.

The math was a joke. I pictured myself chained to my cubicle, paying off a debt I didn’t owe. Not happening.

Besides, I didn’t do it. Why should I pay?

That was the kicker. I wasn’t about to just take the blame for something I didn’t do.

"Fine, go ahead and call the cops!"

My voice came out sharper and louder than I meant. Heads snapped up. For a moment, the only sound was the faint ping of a Slack message in the background.

As soon as I said that, Travis Lee’s whole vibe changed. He started tapping his foot under the table, trying to look calm but failing.

He reached across the table, palms open, like he was trying to talk down a wild animal. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, but everyone could hear the edge in it.

"Blake, let’s not make this worse for everyone, okay? The evidence is pretty solid. If you don’t cooperate and the police get involved, it’s going to get ugly—fast!"

He turned to the compliance staff and said, "Look, I’m responsible as a manager, too. Let me handle this with Mr. Harper."

He was trying to play peacemaker, but his hands were shaking. I wondered if he was protecting me, or just covering his own ass.

Travis Lee is the Procurement Director. Since he said he’d handle it with the general manager, Jordan Mason didn’t push further. He just told me to stop all work, and after the compliance audit of my projects was complete, I could leave.

It felt like the walls were closing in, like I’d just gotten a pink slip and a court summons in the same breath.

"Wait, Director Lee, I just want to know—how did the supplier’s whistleblowing video land on your desk right after the audit found my issue? How did they know? And why would they report me? Aren’t they worried about torching their own reputation and losing all future business?"

I let the questions hang in the air, staring everyone down. I wanted someone—anyone—to admit this didn’t add up.

After saying this, I turned to Jordan Mason and asked,

"Don’t you think it’s a little too convenient?"

He didn’t answer. I stood up and left. At the door, still burning with indignation, I shouted to the whole room:

I couldn’t help myself—I wanted this moment burned into their memories.

"A $97,500 order, and I only took a $450 kickback? You really think I’m that dumb?"