"Oliver, consider this me firing you," I said. "And as for my half-month salary? Think of it as a parting gift. It might be enough to cover a couple of takeout meals. It'll certainly come in handy when your company goes under in a few days."
I took a screenshot of the meal order and promptly posted it in the company's group chat. After that, I quickly left the chat, slung my bag over my shoulder, and headed for the door.
Seeing me ignore him, Oliver lunged and grabbed my wrist.
"Therese! You're not getting away that easy," he growled. "You're not off the hook until you pay every single cent!"
I removed his hand and looked at him with a blank stare.
"Oliver," I said evenly, "I already sent you the full transaction history. Maybe take a second to read it before coming after me."
With that, I walked out without looking back.
I honestly thought that would be the end of it.
But I was wrong.
Oliver wasn't the kind of man who let things go quietly.
He wasn't just angry; he was livid that he took the effort to make the entire mess public and involve my university. He wasn't just angry; he was livid that he even made the entire mess public and involved my university.
What began as workplace drama rapidly escalated into a full-blown smear campaign.
Before I knew it, I was trending, and rumors were spreading online like wildfire.
[#Top University Graduate Unmasked as Shameless Gold Digger!]
[#Gold Digger Blows $500K in 3 Days! Who Would Dare Marry Her?]
[#Wealthy CEO Exploited Like an ATM by His Childhood Fiancée!]
Those headlines were everywhere I looked. No matter which platform I used, the constant scrolling felt like a barrage of information.
And the comment sections? Vicious didn't even come close to describing it.
Once my personal information was uncovered and exposed, the online abuse flooded into my phone nonstop:
[How could your parents raise someone like you? Shame on them. Do the world a favor and disappear!]
[See? Education doesn't mean anything anymore. Women like you are just trash with a degree. Even if you threw yourself at someone, no one would want you!]
It got worse.
Someone dug up my student ID and even tracked down my advisor. Then they turned their pitchforks toward my university, demanding a 'full cleanup.'
By the next morning, my phone rang.
I didn't even need to check the screen. I already knew that it was my counselor, Ms. Brooks.