Clariss moved quickly.
She had already wasted enough time watching Amara smile.
That image—the calm curve of Amara's lips as she spoke with AJ, the absence of fear in her posture—burned in Clariss's mind like an insult. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Amara was supposed to look shaken. Isolated. Unsure.
Instead, she looked… steady.
Clariss shut herself inside one of the unused meeting rooms and pulled out her phone. Her fingers moved with practiced ease, scrolling through contacts, messages, and drafts she had prepared long before today.
She wasn't reckless.
She never was.
Clariss believed in precision.
She opened an email thread addressed to Human Resources—but didn't send it yet. Not until everything was aligned. Not until it looked believable.
The subject line read:
Concern Regarding Workplace Conduct
Clariss exhaled slowly, then began editing the body of the message.
She didn't outright lie.
She didn't have to.
She only needed to frame things.
I've been hesitant to come forward, but I believe it's my responsibility to report behaviour that may be inappropriate and disruptive to the workplace environment…
She paused, then added carefully chosen details.
Names.
Timelines.
Half-truths.
She mentioned Amara's "close interactions" with Damian. The private conversations. The visible favouritism. She framed it as concern—not jealousy. As professionalism—not resentment.
Then came the most dangerous part.
She attached photos.
Not intimate ones.
Nothing scandalous at first glance.
Just angles taken at the wrong moment—Damian leaning close while speaking to Amara, Amara laughing softly, the two of them standing too near in the hallway.
Moments stripped of context.
Clariss leaned back in her chair, eyes gleaming.
If HR questioned it, she could claim innocence.
If rumours spread, she wouldn't be named as the source.
And if Amara's reputation took a hit?
That would be collateral damage.
Clariss hovered her finger over the send button.
But she wasn't done yet.
She opened another app.
Messaging.
And typed a new text—this one addressed to someone she knew would talk.
Hey, just a heads-up. I think something weird is going on between Amara and the Assistant Director, Mr Damian Sinclair. Might turn into an issue soon.
She stared at the message.
Then sent it.
Clariss smiled.
This wasn't an attack.
It was a slow collapse.
Amara felt it before she understood it.
The air around her desk felt… different.
Whispers didn't stop when she looked up—but they softened. Eyes lingered too long. Conversations paused, then resumed in lower tones.
She frowned, uneasy.
"Is something wrong?" AJ asked quietly from beside her.
Amara shook her head. "I don't know. It just feels… off."
Before AJ could respond, a notification popped up on Amara's screen.
Meeting Request: HR Department
Subject: Clarification Needed
Time: 3:00 PM
Her stomach dropped.
AJ noticed her reaction immediately. "What is it?"
"HR," Amara said softly. "They want to talk."
AJ's expression darkened. "About what?"
"I… don't know."
But deep down—
She had a feeling.
Clariss watched from across the office as Amara read the message.
She saw the colour drain from her face.
Saw the way her fingers trembled—just slightly—before she minimized the notification.
There it is.
Clariss's satisfaction bloomed slowly, sweet and sharp.
Now you feel it.
She stood up, straightened her blazer, and walked away—already rehearsing her concerned, innocent expression.
Everything was falling into place.
Or so she thought.
Damian noticed the shift too.
He always did.
He had learned to read rooms long before he learned to lead people.
When he stepped out of his office, he caught fragments of conversation. Side glances. The way Amara sat straighter than usual—too composed, too careful.
His jaw tightened.
He walked toward AJ's desk instead.
"What happened?" Damian asked quietly.
AJ didn't hesitate. "HR called Amara in. She doesn't know why."
Damian's gaze flicked instantly to Clariss's department.
And landed on her.
She was smiling.
Not openly.
But enough.
That was all Damian needed.
He turned sharply and went back into his office, shutting the door behind him with controlled force.
Then he made a call.
"HR," he said calmly the moment the line connected. "This is Damian."
A pause.
"Yes. I heard you're requesting a meeting with one of my staff."
Another pause.
His expression didn't change—but his eyes hardened.
"I see," he said slowly. "Then before you proceed, I believe you should review something."
He opened a folder on his desk.
One he had hoped he'd never need.
"Because the narrative being built," Damian continued evenly, "is missing crucial context."
Clariss was halfway through preparing her explanation when her phone vibrated.
A message from HR.
Clariss, please come to HR as soon as possible.
Her smile faltered.
That wasn't part of the plan.
She stood up, heart beating faster now—not with excitement, but irritation.
Still, she straightened her posture and walked confidently toward the elevator.
She would handle this.
She always did.
At the same time, Amara sat stiffly in the HR office, hands folded in her lap.
She hadn't cried.
She hadn't defended herself yet either.
She was waiting.
Then the door opened.
And Damian walked in.
"Sorry for the interruption," he said calmly, his voice steady and authoritative. "But this meeting concerns my department. And I won't have it proceed without transparency."
Amara looked up, stunned.
"Mr. Sinclair—" the HR manager began.
Damian raised a hand gently. "I'm aware of the complaint. And I've already submitted evidence clarifying the situation."
He turned slightly, meeting Amara's eyes.
"You're not in trouble," he said quietly—but firmly enough that everyone heard.
Relief hit her so suddenly she almost forgot to breathe.
Moments later, the door opened again.
Clariss stepped in.
Her eyes widened—just a fraction—when she saw Damian standing there.
For the first time that day—
Her confidence cracked.
Damian met her gaze without warmth.
Without anger.
Only certainty.
"This ends here," he said calmly.
And Clariss knew—
Her plan had been seen.
And blocked.