The Fallout at Work
The email hit my inbox like a ticking time bomb.
Celeste, please see me in my office at 10 AM.
No subject. No explanation. Just those curt, detached words from Greg Alien, my boss. My stomach twisted as I reread the message, each word coiling tighter around my nerves. I already knew what this was about. The hushed conversations, the stolen glances, the way the break room would fall silent the second I walked in—it had all been leading up to this.
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and stepped into his office at exactly 10 AM. Greg sat behind his oversized mahogany desk, his hands folded neatly, his face unreadable. Across from him, Clara Sterling lounged in a chair, an irritating smirk playing on her lips. Her manicured nails tapped rhythmically against her tablet.
My throat went dry. If Clara was here, this wasn't just a meeting. It was an ambush.
Greg gestured for me to sit. I did, pressing my hands together to keep them from shaking.
"Celeste," he said in that carefully measured tone of his life like he had rehearsed this speech. "We appreciate your contributions to the company, but recent… events have made things complicated."
Clara didn't bother hiding her satisfaction. "Rumors," she said sweetly, her eyes gleaming. "They've put you in a rather unfortunate light."
I clenched my jaw. "Rumors?" My voice was steadier than I felt. "And what exactly are people saying?"
Greg let out a weary sigh as if this was exhausting for him. "Your… pursuit of Damian Nellie."
My spine went rigid. "My what?"
Clara's smirk widened. "Your desperate pursuit, actually."
A spark of anger flared in my chest. "That's ridiculous. Damian and I barely talk outside of work. And even if we did, how is that anyone's business?"
Greg raised a hand. "It's not about the truth, Celeste. It's about perception. The company has an image to protect. Clients talk. Investors listen."
A sinking feeling spread through me. "So you're firing me?"
Greg exhaled again like he was doing me some great favor. "We're making cutbacks, and unfortunately—"
I shot to my feet. "Cutbacks? You're really going to stand there and pretend this is about the budget?" My pulse roared in my ears. "You're choosing to believe office gossip over my years of hard work?"
Greg's expression remained impassive. "This is the final, Celeste."
I turned to Clara, my hands curling into fists. "This was you."
She tilted her head with mock innocence. "Oh, Celeste. Don't be so paranoid."
Rage burned in my chest. She had never liked me, and now she has succeeded in tearing down everything I had worked for.
I swallowed the scream building in my throat. "Fine." I yanked my employee badge from around my neck and tossed it onto Greg's desk. "Enjoy your company. Firing someone over lies won't make the rumors disappear. It just proves you'd rather cave to them than stand by your employees."
Greg said nothing. Clara's smirk deepened.
I turned on my heel and walked out, my head high, even as tears stung the back of my eyes. The office was eerily silent. My coworkers avoided my gaze, pretending to be busy, but I knew they had all heard. They had all whispered. And not a single one of them had spoken up.
At my desk, I yanked open the drawers, throwing my belongings into my bag with sharp, jerky movements. My hands shook as I reached for a framed photo—one of Damian and me at last year's office gala. We weren't even touching, just standing next to each other, laughing at some joke. But that single image had been enough to fuel the rumors that cost me my job.
A shadow fell over my desk. I looked up to see Damian standing there, his dark eyes clouded with concern.
"I just heard." His voice was quiet, controlled—but I could see the storm brewing beneath the surface. "What the hell happened?"
I let out a bitter laugh. "Apparently, I was so desperate for you that it ruined my reputation."
His jaw tightened. "That's bullshit."
I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'm out."
His fists clenched at his sides. "This is my fault."
I slung my bag over my shoulder. "No. This is their fault." I met his gaze, something raw twisting inside me. "But don't worry—you don't have to deal with my desperation anymore."
I stepped around him, but his hand closed around my wrist. It wasn't rough—just firm enough to make me pause. His grip was warm and grounding. For a moment, I let myself feel it. The way his thumb brushed over my pulse. The way his body leaned just a little closer to mine.
"Celeste." His voice was softer now. "Let me fix this."
I pulled away. "You can't."
And with that, I walked out, feeling the weight of a hundred eyes on my back.
The elevator doors slid shut, wrapping me in heavy silence. My heart pounded against my ribs as the reality of it all settled in.
I had nothing. No job. No security. Just a ruined reputation and a mess of shattered trust.
As the elevator descended, I clenched my fists.
Fine. Let them think they won.
They had no idea who they were dealing with.