Revenge of the Silent Heiress

After transferring to the office, my stunning looks made me the target of my boss’s harassment and my colleagues’ nasty rumors.

My team lead, Marcus Vance, even set up a trap, trying to lures me into a hotel room under the guise of "oneonone business mentoring." The next day, the office was flooded with rumors.

People said I only closed my deals because of my "overtime bedroom services." I didn't bother to argue. I wanted to see how far they would push this.

Unbelievingly, they eventually started whispering that I was sleeping with the Chairman himself.

So, I recorded every single piece of evidence and played it right on the big screen during the quarterly gala.

When the corporate executives from the headquarters burst into the conference room and fired everyone on the spot, the entire team went numb.

One by one, they tried to throw dirt on me. But the Chairman just looked at me and smiled: "Had enough fun?

Now, it's time to come home and inherit the family empire." "Did you hear? Chloe from marketing just got a brandnew Maserati." "Seriously?

Her sugar daddy must be filthy rich to spend that kind of cash." "Well, how else do you think she got transferred here and landed the top sales spot every single month?" "Ugh, girls these days.

They’ll do absolutely anything to climb the corporate ladder." Listening to the whispers drifting out of the breakroom, my hand holding the coffee cup didn't even flinch.

Three months ago, I joined this branch and was assigned to Marcus Vance’s team. "Chloe, you're young, and you still have a lot to learn," he had told me. "Why don't you stay late tonight?

I can give you some... private mentoring." He patted his beer belly, his greasy smile loaded with obvious sexual innuendo. I curled my lips into a cold smile. "Sorry, Marcus.

I don't need that kind of mentoring." From that day on, my "nightmare" began. By the next morning, rumors were already flying around the office.

They said I was the mistress of some highlevel executive at the headquarters, forced into this office. They said that besides my face, I was completely useless.

During the weekly meeting, Marcus targeted me directly in front of everyone. "Some people shouldn't think they can reach the sky just by taking shortcuts." "The marketing department doesn't keep pretty trophies.

Performance is all that matters here." "Young people need to keep their feet on the ground." Some colleagues looked sympathetic, some sneered, but most of them were just eating popcorn, waiting for the drama.

I just sat there, expressionless, opening my laptop. Then, word by word, I wrote down every single thing he said. Because I was too lazy to waste my breath on people like him.

He wanted results? Fine. I’d give him results. In the first quarter, the team I led brought in 30% of the entire department's revenue.

During the review meeting, Marcus’s face looked a bit stiff. "Good luck. Keep it up," he muttered.

In the second quarter, I locked down a major client that everyone else thought was impossible to get. Our team’s sales made up 40% of the department's total.

The congratulatory email from headquarters went out to the entire company. Marcus’s face turned visibly green. In the third quarter, I signed the biggest client of the fiscal year.

My team singlehandedly brought in 60% of the entire department's sales.

At the celebration dinner, the big boss himself came over to toast me, patting my shoulder and praising my talent.

Marcus stood in the corner, his face looking worse than a rotting vegetable. I thought he would finally back off. But I was wrong.

When losers get desperate, they only resort to dirtier tricks. Overnight, a new wave of rumors spread like wildfire.

This time, the ringleader was his numberone lapdog, Tiffany Fletcher. "Oh my gosh, you guys have no idea.

She has way more than just one sugar daddy," Tiffany said, sitting at her desk, her voice loud enough for the entire office to hear. "I heard she’s hooking up with several executives from the headquarters." She covered her mouth, faking a shocked laugh. "No wonder her sales are so good.

It turns out she’s doing some very 'deep' networking." A few colleagues laughed along. "And that’s not all! Did you see the new car parked downstairs?

And all those designer bags and flowers delivered to her desk every day?" Tiffany’s voice pitched higher, enjoying the thrill of exposing a scandalous secret. "Those aren't gifts!" "That's her escort pay!" The words "escort pay" exploded in the quiet office.

Instantly, every single eye zoomed in on me. Even people from neighboring departments slowed their pace when they walked past our desks, throwing dirty, judging looks my way.

The "escort pay" they talked about was actually just pocket money and daily necessities sent by my family chauffeur, Arthur, because he was worried I’d struggle living on my own.

The flowers were ordered by my mother, who thought my office looked too dull. And the car was my eighteenth birthday present.

It had been gathering dust in the garage, and I only started driving it recently because I felt like it. But in their mouths, it all became the dirty price of my body.

My fingers finally stopped typing on the keyboard. Perfect. Really, perfect. Let's see what else these people can make up!

The next morning, an email landed in my inbox. Sender: Marcus Vance. Subject: URGENT! Partnership meeting with Henderson Group. The email was short and direct. It said Mr.

Henderson from Henderson Group had arrived for a sudden visit and specifically asked to meet me, the project leader.

Because of the rush, the meeting was set directly in his suite at the Vienna Luxury Hotel. The CC list included all the marketing department heads.

Just then, Tiffany trotted over in her high heels, her face glowing with fake excitement. "Chloe! Oh my gosh, you are amazing! Mr. Henderson!

If you pull this off, our department's KPI will be legendary this year!" She leaned in, whispering with a touch of envious flattery. "Marcus said he’s only going there to back you up.

You should go get ready. Don't keep Mr.

Henderson waiting." I looked up, closed my laptop, and stood up. "Got it." My voice was so calm that the smile on Tiffany's face froze for a second.

She probably expected me to panic, to ask questions, or at least show some hesitation. But I did none of that.

I just grabbed my coat from the chair, picked up my bag, and walked straight out. Because I knew the real show wasn't in the office. It was in that hotel room.

Vienna Luxury Hotel, Suite 8808. I glanced at the room number, a cold smile playing on my lips. Double eight. How lucky. A perfect room number to send someone to hell.

I knocked on the door. It was slightly ajar. With a gentle push, it swung open. The room was empty. The thick curtains were tightly drawn, leaving the room in dim, gloomy light.

The air smelled of cheap hotel air freshener and disinfectant. I walked in and closed the door behind me. Almost immediately, the bathroom door opened. But it wasn't Mr.

Henderson who walked out. It was Marcus Vance. He had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing his greasy neck.

He flaunted his beer belly, a disgusting, victorious grin plastered across his face.

The smell of stale alcohol and cheap cologne rushed at me, making my stomach turn. "Chloe, I knew you’d come." He stepped closer, his eyes scanning my body. "Why play hard to get?

Huh?" "We both know you slept your way to those sales anyway." "Make me happy today, and the Assistant Director position is yours." I didn't move.

My face didn't even register a hint of fear.

My calmness seemed to piss him off. "You bitch, don't act like you're too good for this!" With a hideous snarl, he lunged at me, his fat hands clawing for my shoulders.

I stepped aside, making him grab thin air. He stumbled and slammed hard into the wall. The hotel carpet was thick, muffling the sound of his impact.

My hand in my pocket tapped the red button on my phone screen. "Marcus," I said, my voice icecold. "You make me sick." As if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world, he leaned against the wall, laughing so hard his fat shook. "Sick?

Haha!" "In a minute, you’ll see how good it feels!" "Let me tell you, Tiffany is waiting right outside.

Even if you scream your lungs out, nobody is coming to save you!" "Once I give the word, she’ll burst in and take photos.

By then, you’ll be completely ruined!" He finally spilled the whole plan, a twisted smirk of victory on his face. "Are you going to strip yourself, or do you want me to rip it off you?" I looked at him and slowly smiled. "Marcus, did you forget something?" "I sign those massive deals because of my brain.

Never my body." Before he could react, I didn't waste another second.

I lifted my leg, bent my knee, and kicked him as hard as I could right between his legs. "Arghhh!" Marcus clutched his crotch, bending over like a boiled shrimp, his face turning instantly purple.

I didn't even look back at him. I walked straight to the door and pulled it open.

Outside, Tiffany was holding her phone, camera pointed at the door, her face a mix of utter shock and terror. She clearly didn't expect me to come out so fast.

And she definitely didn't expect me to walk out completely untouched. I looked directly into her camera lens and flashed a bright, sweet smile.

Then, leaving her frozen in shock, I turned around and walked away.

The next day, the company practically exploded. The corporate Snapchat group, which had over eight hundred employees, was flooded with photos and text early in the morning.

The angles of the photos were extremely malicious. One showed me pushing open the hotel room door, making it look like I was eagerly entering on my own.

Another was a snapshot of me stepping aside inside the room, but from that angle, it looked like Marcus was holding me from behind while I playfully resisted.

The last one showed me standing at the door, smiling at the camera. The caption was even more toxic: “CONFIRMED! Chloe from Marketing caught meeting her boss at a hotel room.

She’ll do anything to get promoted!” It was a total bombshell. The group chat instantly turned into a public trial. "Oh my god! Is this real?

She actually did that?" "I knew her sales were too good to be true. Now we know her little secret." "Disgusting!

She’s an embarrassment to the company!" "Marcus too... how could he fall for someone like her?

He’s old enough to know better." When I walked into the office, the entire floor fell dead silent. Every single eye was pinned on me like needles. Tiffany sat at her desk.

Seeing me walk in, she immediately looked down, but her shoulders were shaking. She was laughing with triumph.

But I walked to my desk, opened my laptop, and started working as if nothing had happened. As if the person they were gossiping about wasn't me at all.

In the afternoon, it was the company's quarterly gala. The main conference room was packed.

Every department head, executive, and even several big bosses from headquarters were present. Marcus sat in the front row, his face pale, walking with a slightly awkward limp.

When it was time for the marketing department's review, he was the first to walk up to the stage.

Instead of presenting the sales deck, he cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone with a deeply sorrowful look. "Before I start my report, I want to make a public apology." The crowd murmured. "I admit, as a department head, I failed to resist temptation.

I made a mistake that any man might make." He bowed deeply. "I was foolish..." He looked up, his eyes drifting toward my direction. "But I also want to use this opportunity to warn some of our younger colleagues." "It's good to have ambition." "But taking shortcuts and actively seducing your boss for a promotion... we cannot tolerate this kind of toxic behavior in our company!" He spoke with such righteousness, making himself look like the innocent victim who had been preyed upon.

The crowd buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Everyone’s eyes shot toward me once again.

This time, besides disgust, there was a sense of "I knew it." In a split second, I became the villain—the wicked woman who sold her body for a promotion and then turned on her boss.

The host, caught off guard by the drama, stuttered into the mic. "OOkay... Thank you, Marcus, for your sincere reflection.

Now... let’s welcome Chloe to the stage for her quarterly performance report." I stood up. Under the gaze of hundreds of people, I walked up to the stage, step by step.

I didn't look at anyone. When I reached the podium, I didn't open the presentation slides like everyone else. Instead, I took out my phone and a USB cable.

Under the puzzled looks of the crowd, I leaned down and connected my phone to the projector. Once it was done, I stood up and looked straight at Marcus in the front row.

The righteous look on his face hadn't even faded yet, but a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.

I picked up the microphone and brought it to my lips. "Marcus, your acting is pathetic."

The room went dead silent. Then, I slowly raised my phone. On the massive screen behind me, there were no slides, no pictures—only an audio waveform gently rippling.

I spoke into the mic, my voice crystal clear. "Why don't we let everyone hear the truth?" I pressed play. A sharp beep echoed. The recording began.

Marcus’s greasy, nauseating voice echoed through the speakers: "Chloe, I knew you’d come..." Marcus’s face turned paperwhite in an instant. "We both know you slept your way to those sales anyway..." Instantly, the room erupted.

The people who had just been pointing fingers at me immediately turned their glaring eyes toward Marcus. He slumped in his chair, his lips trembling. The recording kept playing.

My cold voice came through: "Marcus, you make me sick." Then came Marcus’s twisted, arrogant laugh: "Let me tell you, Tiffany is waiting right outside!

By then, you’ll be completely ruined!" In the crowd, Tiffany let out a sharp gasp, her face frozen in terror.

The recording ended with a sharp, painful scream from Marcus before cutting off.

I picked up the mic, my eyes sweeping over the lifeless Marcus and the shivering Tiffany. "What you just heard was the complete recording I made yesterday afternoon in Suite 8808 at the Vienna Luxury Hotel." "Marcus Vance used his position to sexually harass his subordinate, and conspired with Tiffany Fletcher to set up a malicious trap to defame me." I paused, looking at their completely shattered faces. "This audio file, along with the screenshots from the company group chat last night, has already been submitted to the police as evidence." "First thing this morning." I smiled slightly, calling out their names. "Marcus.

Tiffany." "I am officially suing both of you for defamation and workplace sexual harassment." "Oh, and by the way," I added, as if just remembering. "The ceaseanddesist letters should have already been delivered to your desks." Marcus couldn't take it anymore.

His legs buckled, and he slid from his chair onto the floor. Tiffany let out a choked sob, her tears running down her face, ruining her makeup.

The entire conference room was in chaos. Insults, whispers, looks of disgust... the tide of public opinion turned 180 degrees in a second.

Just then, the heavy double doors of the conference room were pushed open. Several men and women in sharp black suits walked in.

The man leading them had a powerful aura, his eyes sharp as daggers. Someone in the crowd gasped. "Oh my god!

That’s David Briggs, the HR Director from headquarters!" "And the woman next to him is Sarah Jenkins, the Head of Legal!" The corporate executives? Why were they here?

And how did they get here so fast?