The meeting room was already packed. Every seat was filled, and the air inside felt thick with tension. The moment Florence walked in, all eyes turned to her. There was no warmth, no sympathy—only cold judgment and piercing stares.
At the head of the table sat the CEO, Mr. Sterling, his face like thunder. Beside him, looking utterly defeated, was her Manager.
"Sit down, Florence," Mr. Sterling ordered, his voice low and dangerous.
Florence pulled out the chair and sat, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap to hide their shaking.
"You wanted the spotlight, Florence," Mr. Sterling began, slamming his hand on the table. "Well, now you have it. But not in the way you dreamed."
"Sir, I can explain—" she started, her voice trembling. "That's not me! Those photos were forged!"
"No!" he shouted. "You don't explain. You listen! Because of your actions, this company is being dragged through the mud. Sponsors are pulling out left, right, and center. Contracts are being terminated. We are losing millions because of your greed and your stupidity!"
"The evidence is undeniable, Florence," her Manager spoke up, looking exhausted. "The video of you putting something in Isabella's drink has gone viral. The public is demanding justice. They are calling for a boycott of anything associated with you."
Isabella has yet to be found. Reporters swarmed towards Mr. Westley's hotel room, but she was not there. However, the hotel manager insisted she was fine and within their care.
"And Director David Morgan," Mr. Sterling added coldly. "He called personally. He wants nothing to do with you. He said he doesn't work with criminals or manipulators. You are off the project. You are finished."
"Finished?" Florence whispered, her world shattering. "No... no, you can't do this! I worked so hard! I did everything!"
"You did everything wrong," Mr. Sterling stood up. "Effective immediately, you are suspended indefinitely. We are launching an internal investigation. And given the evidence of drugging your sister, the authorities might soon be involved. You are on your own, Florence."
Just then, the doors burst open.
Everyone turned to look. The room gasped. Florence's head snapped around, her eyes widening in sheer terror. Standing there was a man in a sharp suit who looked familiar.
"Mr. Lawrence..." Mr. Sterling stammered.
Mr. Lawrence walked slowly into the room, his gaze fixed firmly on Florence. He was Mr. Westley's legitimate brother and the actual owner of a major shareholding in the company.
"Florence," Lawrence said, his voice icy. "You thought you were using my brother to get ahead? You thought you could destroy an innocent girl's reputation just for a role?"
He held up a folder.
"Mr. Westley is currently home dealing with a family emergency, but he left instructions. He is appalled by your behavior. He never promised you anything. And as for these allegations..."
He turned to the board. "I have proof. I have the receipts, the bank transactions, and I am a witness."
"That's a lie!" Florence screamed, standing up. "It's all lies!"
"By dawn, we are holding a press conference to announce your retirement; that is the only option left for us," Mr. Sterling said firmly. "You will apologize to the public and to Isabella. Go get prepared," he instructed her, then turned to his team. "Have the PR department release a notice immediately."
********************
Florence stumbled into her manager's office, her legs feeling like jelly. The door clicked shut behind her, muffling the noise of the outside world, but it couldn't muffle the heavy silence that filled the room.
Her manager, Mr. Harrison, was standing by the window, his back turned to her. He didn't move. He didn't even look at her. He just stared out at the city skyline, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"Sir..." Florence whispered, her voice breaking. "Please... you know me. You know I wouldn't do this."
Slowly, Mr. Harrison turned around. His face was pale, lined with exhaustion and a deep, profound sadness that cut deeper than anger. His eyes, usually warm and encouraging, were now cold and distant.
"Sit down, Florence," he said quietly.
She sank into the chair opposite his desk, wringing her hands. "I tried to tell them! It's all a setup! The photos are fake, the video is edited—"
"Stop!" he interrupted softly, but firmly. He walked to his desk and picked up a folder, dropping it heavily in front of her. "Don't lie to me. Not anymore. Not after everything I've done for you."
Florence flinched. "What do you mean?"
"I took a chance on you when nobody else would," he said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "I defended you. I fought for your roles. I covered for your mistakes because I believed in you. I thought you were just ambitious, hungry for success. But this..."
He shook his head slowly, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time.
"Drugging your own sister? Forging documents? Playing games with Mr. Westley? Florence, this isn't ambition. This is greed. This is sickness."
"I did it for us!" she cried out, tears streaming down her face. "I did it for the company! I wanted to be the best!"
"You wanted to be the best by destroying everyone else!" Harrison shot back, his voice rising slightly before he calmed himself again. "Look at me. Do you see any pride left in these eyes? I am ashamed. I am truly ashamed to be associated with your name right now."
He leaned forward, his expression grave.
"You had the world at your feet, Florence. Talent, beauty, potential. Everything. And you threw it all away for nothing. You ruined your own life, and you almost dragged us all down with you."
He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms, looking away as if he couldn't bear to look at her face any longer.
"There is no way out of this. The decision has been made. Go to the press conference. Read the statement. And then... just go. I have nothing more to say to you."