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Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Return to the Workplace

The atmosphere in the JPMorgan headquarters conference room was as stiff as ice. Beneath her red dress, Alice Howard's palms's palms clenched tight. In her first meeting since rebirth, Mark Stanton was presenting merger data with his usual elegance—but she knew the seemingly flawless charts hid lies that could crash the company's stock.

"Mr. Stanton, regarding the third-quarter profit growth rate…" Alice spoke suddenly, her voice sharp as a blade. She pinpointed the data loopholes intercepted by the wiretap, and under her analysis, the projections on the projector slowly crumbled. Mark's pupils constricted; other executives began murmuring. This intern, once dismissed as a "docile lamb," was now slicing through his facade with razor-sharp data skills.

After the meeting, Mark kept her behind. He stepped close, his fingers gripping her jaw with a threatening force: "Alice, you've changed." Alice leaned into him, the perfume on her collarbone a leftover from last night: "Mark, I just want to prove I'm worthy of your trust." She whispered in his ear, her fingertips sliding toward the inner pocket of his suit—where the encryption key, forgotten from last night, still hid. Mark's palm suddenly pressed her waist, pinning her to the conference table edge: "There are better ways to prove it." His lips crashed down, the rough kiss laced with suspicion. Alice matched his rhythm, then pushed him away abruptly, tears springing to her eyes: "You always… use me like this." His guard shattered at her vulnerability, and she slipped the key free.

That night, at Mark's apartment. Alice wore the black lace lingerie he'd demanded, pretending to lounge while he worked in the study. She flipped through a magazine as if bored, but with the key, she unlocked his encrypted computer files. Merger fraud details, illegal transaction records with the board… the evidence chain took shape on the screen. Mark wrapped his arms around her from behind, his breath hot: "What are you looking at?" Alice quickly switched screens, turning to kiss him: "Pictures from our first project—you said I was never more than then." While he melted into the kiss, she silently transferred the USB's evidence to the cloud.

Lust flared in the midnight hours, Mark's possessiveness growing violent. Alice bit her lip through the pain, her mind coldly calculating: this encounter needed more proof. She deliberately scratched his shoulder during his climax, the bloodied marks to serve as "coercion" evidence in court later. Afterward, as Mark slept, she used his fingerprint to unlock his phone, forwarding key texts to an anonymous email.

Rain fell again. As Alice left the apartment, her phone buzzed—Sarah's email: "Encrypted files cracked. The board chairman's name is there." They met at a street café, and Alice showed new clues from Mark's phone: records of secret meetings between a board member and Ryan Black, the tech CEO. Sarah's eyes widened: "Ryan's company blows up in three months, but he shouldn't have clout in finance yet… unless someone's planning ahead."

Alice thought of the eagle tattoo on Mark's wrist that night in the bathtub—the connection to Ryan grew clearer. She decided to approach him first; her rebirth memories flagged him as critical to taking down Mark. The next day, at an industry gala, she "accidentally" spilled wine on Ryan's suit. Bending to wipe it, her collarbone peeked through her dress: "Mr. Black, JPMorgan is eager to collaborate." Ryan's brushed her bare skin, his smile dangerous: "Ms. Howard, you're more… strategic than rumors suggest." They exchanged encrypted business cards amid banter, and Alice confirmed: his wrist bore the exact same eagle tattoo as Mark's.

Late that night, Mark's probing text arrived: "3 AM tomorrow, Hotel Room 1208. I'll bring the evidence you want." Alice replied "Yes," but sent backup evidence to Sarah on her way to the hotel. Inside 1208, Mark tested her loyalty with whip-like passion. Alice feigned submission through the struggle, secretly hiding a in the bedside lamp. This brutal intimacy would become ironclad proof of "workplace harassment."

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