Chapter 5

"Peyton, the company suspended you."

When my supervisor called, her tone was much more polite than usual.

So polite that I immediately knew the news had spread.

"What's the reason?"

"Someone reported to HR that you pose a serious psychological risk and might endanger client safety."

I sat at my desk. The voices of several nearby colleagues suddenly dropped.

"Who reported it?"

My supervisor sighed. "Go home and rest for now. Wait for the evaluation results."

"The evaluation results aren't out yet."

"But they submitted documentation."

"What documentation?"

"Records from the community center, and a joint statement from your family members."

I hung up and opened my email.

The attachment HR sent included a scanned document.

The title was neatly written: Statement Regarding Peyton's Recent Abnormal Behavior.

The signature section had Linda, Vivian, and Harold.

Sandra's name was there too.

Those two characters were familiar. So familiar I could tell at a glance she didn't write them.

But the stamp was real.

I clutched my phone and went to find HR.

The HR manager closed the door, lowering her voice.

"Peyton, personally I believe your work performance has been fine, but the company can't take the risk."

I asked, "Who sent this?"

She hesitated.

"Someone named Vivian. She said she's your cousin."

"She's not my legal guardian."

"She provided your father's signature."

"I can request a review."

"You can, but the process takes time. Also, you have a client coming this afternoon. She already contacted the client in advance saying you've been unstable recently."

I laughed.

Vivian wasn't just stealing my blind dates.

She wanted to pluck me out of every place that could prove I was normal.

My Snapchat buzzed.

Vivian sent a voice message.

"Peyton, don't blame Harold and Sandra. I was the one who alerted your company. What if you have an emotional episode someday and hurt a client? You couldn't handle that responsibility either."

I replied: "What do you want?"

She quickly sent back text.

"Come to my place tonight. In front of Linda and Ethan, delete the screenshots."

The next message was more direct.

"Also, send Ethan a message saying you slandered me before out of jealousy."

I stared at the screen.

Half a minute later, another message came.

"If you don't come, I'll post about your evaluation in your company group chat."

I didn't reply.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the client did come.

He was the project lead I'd been working with for six months. His last name was Wilson. He usually spoke bluntly.

His first words after sitting down: "Peyton, are you suitable to continue managing our account?"

I said, "I am."

He looked at me. "Someone said you hurt people at a family gathering."

"I didn't."

"Someone said you have a history of self-harm."

"I don't."

"Someone said you harassed your blind dates and retaliated against female relatives."

I looked up. "Mr. Wilson, are you here to discuss the project or interrogate me?"

He was silent for a few seconds.

"I'm here to assess risk."

Colleagues stood outside the glass door watching.

Those gazes weren't sharp, but they were dense.

My supervisor pushed the door open. "Peyton, step outside."

I didn't move.

Mr. Wilson suddenly pushed a piece of paper toward me.

"Vivian said if we change account managers, she can introduce resources from her fiancé's family to me."

I looked at that paper.

On it was a client list written in Vivian's handwriting.

She was even poaching my clients.

My supervisor's face darkened. "Peyton, excuse yourself."

"Why should I be the one to excuse myself?"

"Because you're the one being complained about right now."

I stood up.

When I reached the door, my phone rang.

Marcus sent a video.

In the video, at the side entrance of the community center hallway, Vivian crouched down by herself, scraped her wrist against the rough corner of a wall, then sat down on the floor as if on cue.

The angle was very oblique, filmed from inside a car.

He sent a message: "My car was parked at the back entrance. The dashcam caught it."

My finger hovered over the screen.

This should be the first real piece of ammunition I'd gotten in days to hit back with.

But before I could save it, Ethan called.

I answered.

"Peyton, come to Vivian's place right now."

"What for?"

"She took sleeping pills."

My mind went blank.

"What did you say?"

"She left a suicide note saying you pushed her to this, saying if she dies, she hopes you won't hate her anymore."

My supervisor heard. Her expression changed instantly.

The HR manager poked her head in from the doorway. "What's going on?"

I didn't answer. I ran out.

In the taxi, Ethan never hung up.

"Peyton, are you satisfied now?"

"Did you call an ambulance?"

"We did."

"How many did she take?"

"Now you're scared?"

"Ethan, answer me."

He sneered. "People like you only care about whether you'll be held responsible."

When I got to Vivian's place, the door was open.

Linda sat on the floor crying. Ethan held Vivian. Her face was pale, but there were faint lipstick marks on her lips.

Paramedics were checking her.

I heard the nurse say, "Vital signs are stable. Probably didn't ingest much."

Linda lunged at me and grabbed my hair.

"You dare show up here! If anything happens to my daughter, I'll fight you to the death!"

She yanked me off balance. My phone fell to the ground.

The screen was lit, stopped on the video page Marcus had sent.

Vivian lay in Ethan's arms, eyes half-open.

She saw it.

The next second, she suddenly reached out and stepped on my phone.

The sound of the screen shattering was very soft.

But I heard it crystal clear.

She said weakly, "Peyton, stop trying to frame me with fake evidence."

Ethan shoved me away.

"Get out."

I fell against the coffee table. My elbow started bleeding.

Linda cried out, "Call the police! She drove my daughter to suicide!"

I looked at the shattered phone, chaos ringing in my ears.

The most crucial evidence had just gone black right before my eyes.

Ethan looked down at me from above.

"Peyton, from now on, who's going to believe you?"

Someone at the door responded, "I do."