The simple words hit the room like a detonation. Henderson's eyebrows rise slightly. Miller shifts uncomfortably. But Vivian's face goes absolutely white.
"You understand what?" she whispers, but there's something in her voice—a crack, a fissure—that tells me I've found the pressure point.
"I understand why you see me as a threat. Why every success I achieve feels like a personal attack." I move around the table with deliberate care, not advancing on her but positioning myself where she can't avoid looking at me. "Jake Morrison. Columbus. 2020."
The name hits her like a physical blow. She actually flinches, her composure cracking wide open.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she manages, but her voice has gone thin, desperate.
"I know exactly what I'm talking about." My tone remains gentle, almost therapeutic. "You were brilliant. Talented. Building something real with your career, your marriage. And then Morrison needed a scapegoat for his mess, and you were convenient. Young. Female. Expendable."
"Stop." The word comes out as barely more than breath.
"They destroyed you. Your career, your marriage, your entire identity. And the worst part wasn't what they took—it was that you'd done nothing wrong. You were collateral damage in someone else's scandal."
Vivian's composure is dissolving in real time. Her hands shake where they rest on the table. Her breathing has gone shallow and rapid.
"But here's what I think happened next," I continue, my voice still maddeningly calm. "You rebuilt yourself. Climbed back up. Swore you'd never be vulnerable again. And then I walked into your life—young, ambitious, involved with a player—and suddenly you were looking at a ghost."
"That's not—" she starts, but I cut her off with a gentle gesture.
"You weren't trying to protect the organization from another scandal, Vivian. You were trying to protect yourself from reliving your own trauma. Every time you looked at me with Garrett, you saw yourself with Morrison. And you couldn't bear it."
The silence that follows is profound, broken only by the soft hum of the ventilation system. Henderson has gone very still, focused intently on the psychological drama unfolding before him. Miller looks confused, like he's watching a conversation in a foreign language.
But Vivian—Vivian is coming apart.
"You think you know," she says, her voice rising with each word. "You think you understand what it's like to have everything ripped away because some man can't keep it in his pants? To watch your life burn down while he walks away without a scratch?"
Her composure is completely gone now, replaced by raw pain that's been held back for years.
"I worked twice as hard as anyone else. I was brilliant. I was perfect. And none of it mattered because when Morrison needed someone to blame, I was there. Young and female and expendable." Her voice breaks on the last word. "So yes, I sawyou making the same mistake, and I couldn't—I wouldn't let you destroy yourself the same way."
Henderson's eyes have sharpened to laser focus. This isn't corporate politics anymore—this is a confession.
"But you deserved to be stopped!" Vivian's voice cracks sharply, years of suppressed rage finally finding its target. "You were walking straight into the same trap I fell into, and you were too arrogant to see it! Too young and foolish to understand that this business doesn't protect women who think they can have it all!"
The words hang in the air like an indictment. Not of me—of her.
"You sabotaged my work," I say quietly, no longer asking. "Altered reports. Fed false information to clients. Planted the gossip that destroyed my reputation."
"I tried to save you from yourself!" she shouts, completely unhinged now. "I tried to show you what happens when women like us get too comfortable, too confident! But you wouldn't listen! You kept pushing, kept taking risks, kept proving that you hadn't learned the lesson!"
Henderson rises from his chair with the slow, deliberate precision of a judge preparing to deliver a verdict. When he speaks, his voice is deadly quiet.
"Ms. Lamore," he says, and something in his tone makes even Miller straighten in his chair. "In the past five minutes, you have confessed to systematic workplace sabotage, admitted to deliberately damaging this organization's business relationships, and revealed a level of personal instability that represents a profound liability."
Vivian seems to realize what she's done. Her face cycles through shock, rage, and something that looks like terror. "Mr. Henderson, you have tounderstand—"
"What I understand," he cuts her off, his voice gaining strength with each word, "is that you have been operating from a place of personal vendetta rather than professional judgment. You have compromised this organization's reputation, damaged employee morale, and created exactly the kind of toxic environment that destroys corporate culture."
He moves around the table deliberately, each step echoing in the sudden silence.
"Your employment with this organization is terminated, effective immediately. Security will escort you out within the hour, and I can assure you that this conversation will be documented for any potential legal proceedings."
Vivian's mouth opens and closes soundlessly, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her in real time. But Henderson isn't finished.
His gaze shifts to Miller, who has been sitting in stunned silence throughout Vivian's meltdown.
