Chapter 3

My voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

Tyler blinked, lowering his voice into an intimate whisper.

"Ethan, are you mad at me?"

"I really didn't mean to target you in the group. I just... said whatever came to mind. I didn't think Miller would take it so seriously."

Staring at his picture-perfect innocent face, I found the whole thing pathetic.

This kid graduated last year and couldn't find a job for months.

Two months ago, he interviewed here with a marketing degree from a mediocre college. Greg and I conducted his interview together.

He had clean-cut hair and spoke softly, coming across as polite and humble.

Greg thought he seemed grounded, so I gave him the green light.

Looking back, I must have been blind.

"No need to explain," I said with a faint smile, sliding the last stack of papers into a folder.

"You're right. Maybe there really are cheaper sources out there. The company needs to cut costs and boost efficiency. I get it."

Tyler's eyes lit up, his smile turning a bit more genuine. "I'm so glad you see it that way, Ethan! Don't worry, once the audit is done, you'll be proven innocent. I'll take you out to lunch then!"

Sure you will.

I watched him walk into Miller's office. The second the door clicked shut, Miller's booming laughter drifted out.

Greg poked his head over from the next cubicle, looking hesitant.

"I'm fine," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "Seriously, I'm good."

At clock-out time, I bumped into Jason by the elevators.

Jason was a senior sales rep who had joined two years before me. He was one of the few people in the office I genuinely considered a friend.

"Ethan."

He called out to me, looking conflicted.

"What's up?"

He hesitated before finally speaking.

"About the chat... don't take it too hard. Tyler is young and reckless, talking without thinking. Miller just reacted on impulse. Once the audit wraps up, everything will be fine."

"I know."

The elevator arrived, and we stepped inside.

After a beat of silence, Jason added, "But seriously, Ethan... those baskets you used to get... how much did they actually cost?"

The elevator lights were bright. I turned to look at him. His expression was dead serious; he genuinely wanted an answer.

"They were the absolute lowest prices I could negotiate," I said.

"Ah." Jason nodded, not pressing further.

But the rising inflection on that "Ah" spoke volumes.

We hit the ground floor, and the doors slid open.

"See ya," I said.

"Yeah. Get home safe."

Stepping out of the building, the early summer heat hit my face. I took a deep breath.

My phone vibrated. A SnapChat message from my mom.

[Sweetie, have you seen that $50 basket the new kid ordered?]

I texted back: [Not yet. Why?]

She called me right away.

"Let me tell you, getting that kind of spread for fifty bucks means one of two things: either they're taking a massive loss to gain clout, or they cut dirty corners on the ingredients. Listen to your mother. When those baskets arrive, do not eat a single bite. You hear me?"

Her voice was grave with worry.

"Got it, Mom. I know what I'm doing."

"Like hell you do," she scoffed. "If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn't have been framed like this! Why don't you just quit and come help me run the plant? I'll pay you twenty grand a month. Isn't that better than being humiliated at that dinky firm?"

"I hear you, Mom—"

I hung up and saw the red badge on my WhatsApp icon showing over 99 unread messages. The group chat was blowing up again.