Chapter 2: The Game Restarts

2

“I didn’t mean to, it’s just that I’m different from everyone else, but you treated me the same and gave me the same workload. Of course I felt unbalanced.”

“How is this not bringing it on yourself?”

I was furious—my voice shook with anger. I demanded to know what made her so special, anyway.

Aubrey gave a cold, almost mocking laugh. “Mr. Carter, the taste of failure is pretty bitter, but this is your trial, not mine. Don’t get mad. Tell you what: give me a hundred grand, and I’ll help you clean up your reputation.”

“Carrying a bad rep is seriously stressful, so I need a hundred thousand to go abroad and lay low for a bit. Deal?”

My glare could’ve burned a hole through the drywall. She shrank back, spat a curse at me, and stormed out, slamming the office door so hard the windows rattled. The whole floor heard it.

Two days later, the news broke: Aubrey Miller was found dead in her dingy apartment. The prime suspect? Someone who’d taken a one-way dive into Lake Erie. The headlines were merciless.

Getting my revenge brought no comfort—just a bottomless regret. The cost was too high. I’d lost everything that mattered.

But fate wasn’t finished with me. I was granted another shot.

Looking at the photo of my wife’s bright smile on my phone’s lock screen, I swore to myself that this time, I’d get ahead of Aubrey Miller. No more playing defense.

After that infamous meeting—the same one where she’d brought influencer coffee and chaos—any other boss would’ve just fired her outright. But that was too easy.

Swallowing my old resentment, I sent a quick email to the finance team: dock her pay for the coffee fiasco.

As if on cue, Aubrey stormed into my office. Her cheeks were already flushed with outrage—her face turned beet red, like she’d just run a mile in July.

“Mr. Carter, finance said they’re deducting my salary. Why? I’ve worked so hard—how did I offend you?”

“Intern salaries are already so low. I won’t even be able to pay next month’s rent—are you trying to drive me to despair?”

She wasn’t even halfway through her rant before the tears started. They streaked down her cheeks, silent and fast.

“I’m just a fresh grad, Mr. Carter, why are you making things so hard for me?”

“And everyone drank it, but when I took the receipt to finance, they wouldn’t reimburse me. Isn’t that unfair?”

I just stared at her, then glanced at my assistant. The message was clear: this was on him. He’d vouched for her, after all. Now he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor.

3

“No rules, no standards. The company provides drinks for meetings, but you ordered influencer coffee on your own, affecting the meeting’s progress. Do you think this is your college team-building?”

“You barged into the boss’s office without knocking. If I’d known you treated work like this, I’d never have hired you. If you don’t want to work, you can resign right now.” My assistant’s voice was sharp, no-nonsense. The room went dead quiet.

Aubrey’s face turned beet red, like she’d just run a mile in July. She looked seconds away from either shouting or breaking down completely.

I almost felt bad. Almost. I’d planned to throw her a lifeline, but before I could speak, she bowed her head, voice small and shaky.

“Sorry, Mr. Carter, it was my fault. I’ll try to adapt—I really need this job.”

She wiped her tears on her sleeve and hurried out, shoulders hunched, twisting her fingers in her sleeve, eyes darting to the door as if weighing her chances of escape. The air felt heavy after she left.

I watched her go, surprised she hadn’t made a scene. In the last timeline, this was where she’d started stirring up trouble. I glanced at my assistant, signaling him to get back to work.

My mind replayed everything from before—how after my public shaming, people had dug up Aubrey’s social media. Her carefully edited videos painted me as the villain, and it was impossible to defend myself once the narrative spun out of control.

I fired up my laptop, searching for the username “AubreyOnTheGrind.” After some digging, I found her TikTok account with just over a thousand followers.

She’d just posted: “The second diary of a Gen Z making easy money: ordering influencer coffee.”

“I tried it, everyone, don’t copy me. Old-school companies can’t handle it and even docked my pay. It’s already pretty exploitative, but they made it worse. But don’t worry, my precious followers, I won’t quit on my own. Next step, I’m going to confess to the boss.”

“Stay tuned! After I confess, the boss definitely won’t dare assign me work anymore. I definitely won’t lose. Here’s another little workplace hack.”

Reading that, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. By nightfall, her account had ballooned to five thousand followers. Her video racked up ten thousand likes—practically viral for our sleepy Ohio town.

Her followers spammed #WorkplaceTea and tagged local news stations, hoping to blow the story up even bigger. She was planning to ride this wave, half-assing her work while raking in likes and ad money. According to her, the only thing she stood to lose was her time—and maybe a job she didn’t even want.

No way. This time, I was determined to make her answer for every stunt.

4

I called in a few favors and dug up Aubrey’s background. Turns out, her last company went under, and she’d walked away with a $7,500 settlement. The rumor was she’d accused her old boss of harassment. Patterns, it seemed, were hard to break.

She’d pulled this before—spread rumors, cashed out, vanished. Smart, in a twisted way.

If she wanted to confess to me to get a lighter workload, I’d let her. But I’d make sure she had an audience she didn’t expect.

The next day, I showed up late, timing it so I’d pass her by the break room. She was ready, lurking by the coffee pot, looking nervous but determined.

“Mr. Carter, I... I like you.”

Her voice barely rose above a whisper, eyes flicking down to the floor. She looked the picture of shy innocence—the kind that’d make anyone hesitate.

But I’d learned my lesson. I gave her a cold, flat look. “Since you’ve liked me for so long, you should know I have a family. What’s this supposed to mean? Are you trying to break up my marriage?”

“No, I...”

Aubrey looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, like she wanted the linoleum to swallow her whole.

I didn’t give her a chance to spin it. I unlocked my phone, already dialed into a company-wide conference call.

“Sorry to interrupt your work report, but I hope everyone learns from this: the company allows office romance, but don’t get any ideas about the boss.” My words cut through the line like static.

Aubrey’s face drained of color, and she froze on the spot. I didn’t even have to check to know that her phone stayed in her pocket this time—the material was useless now.

By the end of the day, the gossip had spread like wildfire. With a few nudges from me, even the cleaning crew was in the loop. Everyone had something to say.

5

“Did you hear? The new intern tried to seduce the boss and be his mistress, but got called out. What’s wrong with young people these days?”

“I heard! That woman even wore a low-cut top to seduce the boss and said she wasn’t here to break up the family, but to join it. Our company actually hired a top-tier gold digger!”

“Geez, just seeing her makes my skin crawl.”

I caught snippets of office chatter as I passed the elevator—everyone was buzzing, packing up their bags, eyes full of drama. I couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. Aubrey loved making a spectacle for public attention; let’s see how she liked being the main character now.

With a little behind-the-scenes encouragement, the rest of the president’s office started giving her the cold shoulder. Assignments piled up, and she stayed late every night, her screen glowing in the empty cubicles. She didn’t even have time to film a TikTok.

I made sure to like her old video from a burner account, just to see what she’d do. Later that night, Aubrey knocked on my office door. She looked exhausted, her eyes rimmed red. She twisted her fingers in her sleeve, shoulders hunched, eyes darting to the door as if weighing her chances of escape.

She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.

“Mr. Carter, it was my fault for confessing to you the other day. I didn’t consider that you have a family, but liking someone isn’t a crime.”

“Everyone’s targeting me, dumping their work on me. I can’t finish it all...” Her voice trembled, raw and broken.

I didn’t budge. “Maybe everyone’s just training you so you can be independent sooner. There are so many interns, but only you seem to have complaints.”

“If you can handle it, do it. If not, then quit.”

I went back to my laptop, pretending she wasn’t there. If I played the villain long enough, maybe she’d give up.

Aubrey left without another word. I was certain she wouldn’t quit, though. She struck me as the type who wouldn’t walk away until she’d wrung every last drop out of a bad situation.

6

But Aubrey’s late-night TikTok post surprised me yet again. She claimed she was being targeted by everyone after her rejected confession. Her logic was so twisted, it was almost impressive.

“Our boss has only one idea now: he wants to force me to sleep with him and be his mistress. He’s already in his thirties, definitely has perverted hobbies, and he’s always moody with me.”

“I definitely won’t lose out, so let me, a Gen Z, clean up the workplace.”

She was shameless—anything for clicks. Her account blew up overnight: 100,000 followers and counting.

I scrolled through the comments, rolling my eyes at the sea of "babes" and empty promises. Aubrey even replied to me in the comments: “Babes, if you follow now, you’re my OG fans. Tomorrow I’ll pick some lucky babes from the comments to send Amazon gift cards.”

Ridiculous. I doubted she’d have time to follow through. I had her videos reported for false content, and her account was wiped from the internet by morning. One minute, she was the queen of workplace drama; the next, she was a digital ghost.

At work, Aubrey’s fake smile was slipping. When I called her into my office, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

“I had your account banned. If this blows up and I sue you, you’ll end up in jail.” My words were low and even, leaving no room for debate.

Aubrey turned pale as copy paper. “Mr. Carter, that account was just for fun. I never said anything bad about the company. If it’s gone, it’s gone. I won’t post anymore.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carter, for not pressing charges. It was all fake, just to get clicks.”

I offered her a thin, businesslike smile. “I won’t fire you. As for your colleagues making things hard for you, I checked and it really happened. I’ve already laid into them.”

“Go back to work.”

In the American workplace, sometimes you have to play tough—discipline with one hand, a little mercy with the other.

Aubrey murmured her thanks and practically ran out. She’d lost her TikTok empire and the ad money that came with it. But as I watched her disappear down the hall, I knew: in this office, the real game was just getting started.