Kamila arrived at Cinz the next morning and the chaos outside was worse than the day before. Reporters stood in clusters, armed with cameras, microphones, and questions. As soon as her car pulled in, flashes erupted like lightning.
"Miss Vernz! Can you confirm the abuse allegations?"
"What actions have you taken regarding the employee incident?"
"Is Cinz hiding workplace harassment?"
Kamila didn't stop for any of them. She shoved past the crowd with her bag clutched tightly, jaw locked, and stormed through the doors of her company like a hurricane. Her heels echoed through the marble halls, each step driven by fury.
"Chris!" she snapped as soon as she stepped into her office.
Her assistant was already standing, phone in hand. "The management is waiting in the boardroom. I figured you'd want to see them immediately."
"Smart move." Her tone was icy.
Kamila threw her coat onto the couch and walked briskly toward the boardroom. The doors opened with a sharp push, silencing the buzz of low conversation. Every head turned to her.
She stood at the front, letting her silence fill the room before she spoke.
"When were you all planning to tell me?" she said, voice low but dangerous.
No one answered.
She glared at them. "I said… when were you going to tell me that an employee in my company was harassed by someone in HR?"
The executives exchanged glances. No one met her eyes.
"This company now bears my name. And I'm now in charge, I won't let anything ruin all I've worked for. So, again, when exactly were you going to tell me that someone was assaulted on my watch?"
Finally, Gregory, head of HR, cleared his throat. "We… we didn't have the full details. The employee resigned before we could properly investigate."
"Who was she?"
He hesitated. "Melinda Grant."
"And?"
"She mentioned feeling unsafe… but nothing official was filed. The story only got out after the press got wind of it."
Kamila's hands slammed down onto the table. "I don't give a damn if she wrote it in lipstick on a napkin! You're telling me someone came to HR with a complaint, and instead of launching an investigation, you let her walk out the door and did nothing?"
The room stayed silent.
She turned to Chris, who had just stepped into the boardroom. "Get me her contact information. Address. Phone number. Anything."
Chris nodded and left without a word.
Kamila's voice dropped. "You're all lucky I haven't fired every single one of you yet. But that's coming. Dismissed."
They filed out quietly. No one dared speak.
Later that afternoon, Kamila sat in the backseat of her car, Melinda's employee file open in her hands. She read through the notes—none of them gave the full picture. No real HR report, no follow-up, nothing official. It was like the woman had vanished.
Chris had gotten the address.
"Take me there," Kamila instructed her driver.
The car pulled up outside a small, two-story apartment complex in the outer district of the city. It was a far cry from the luxury and gloss of Cinz. Kamila stepped out, heart pounding.
She knocked gently on the door. After a pause, there was a shuffle from inside.
"Who is it?"
"Melinda? My name is Kamila Vernz. I'm here… as a friend."
The door opened a crack. Melinda looked frightened, suspicious.
"I promise, I'm not here to hurt you," Kamila said gently.
"I just want to talk."
Melinda hesitated. Then she stepped back and opened the door.
The apartment was small. Sparse. A few framed pictures on the wall, one of a young girl with pigtails. Toys were neatly packed in the corner. Kamila stepped inside slowly.
"I didn't tell the media anything," Melinda began immediately.
"I swear. I told a friend what happened in confidence. She's not even a reporter—someone else overheard us. That's how it got out."
Kamila nodded. "I believe you. I'm not here to point fingers at you. I just want to know what really happened."
Melinda's shoulders relaxed just a little. She sat down on a threadbare couch and motioned for Kamila to do the same.
"It started with comments," she said.
"Stupid, gross things from one of the HR guys. At first, I thought if I ignored it, it….it would stop. But it got worse. One night, he waited for me near the elevator. He...He grabbed me."
Kamila's stomach turned.
"I fought him off. The next day, he threatened me. Said if I said anything, I'd be 'handled.' I reported it to his colleague in HR. Two days later, I got a notice saying I was being let go due to restructuring."
"And you have proof?" Kamila asked gently.
Melinda nodded.
She reached into a drawer and pulled out her phone.
"I kept everything. The messages. I took photos after the elevator incident too."
She pulled up a picture and handed it to Kamila.
Kamila's eyes narrowed as she looked at the image. Faint bruises on Melinda's arm. Finger marks.
Her blood boiled.
Melinda added, "I never wanted attention. I just wanted to do my job. I needed the income for my daughter. But they didn't care. They just wanted it to go away."
Kamila stood slowly.
Her voice was soft but fierce. "I promise you this… it won't go away. I'll handle this. And you won't be alone anymore."
Melinda's eyes glistened. "Thank you. I didn't think anyone believed me."
Kamila handed her a business card. "If you need anything—anything at all—call me."
As she stepped out into the cool evening air, her thoughts were a swirl of fury and resolve.
This was her company.
And someone had dared to violate what she built.
They had no idea what storm they'd just unleashed.