The words barely left her mouth before a colleague next to me, someone I'd always gotten along with, tugged at my sleeve.

"Matilda, just let it go. Mercedes isn't someone you want to cross. Her cousin's in admin, and the manager has her back. If you make an enemy of her today, she'll never let it rest."

"Why don't you just pay this time? Think of it as spending a little to avoid a lot of trouble."

It was my money. Since when did anyone else get a say in how I avoided trouble?

I thanked her for the concern, but I didn't waver for a second.

"I'll say this one last time. I didn't place that order, and I'm not paying a single cent."

"Whoever wants a drink can scan the code and pay for it themselves. Stop using my salary to make yourselves look generous."

The office went dead silent. The people who'd been scrambling to rip open the packaging a moment ago pulled their hands back like they'd been burned, lips curling in distaste.

"Who'd even want one? Eighty bucks for a coffee? That's insane."

Mercedes's face cycled between white and green. A few seconds passed, and then she laughed.

"Fine, Matilda. You've got backbone. Let's see if you're still this tough tomorrow."

The next morning, the break room was unusually crowded.

Mercedes spotted me and raised her voice on purpose.

"Some people love bragging about how they've already paid off their mortgage, but they can't even treat the team to an afternoon coffee run. Yesterday the whole department lost face because of her. I honestly can't figure out what goes on in her head."

Someone chimed in immediately.

"So what if she makes good money? With that kind of stinginess, who'd respect her?"

A cluster of them huddled together, snickering under their breath.

I set my bag on my desk and walked straight over.

"Are you done?"

The break room fell quiet. Mercedes didn't look the least bit guilty. If anything, she let out a deliberate sigh.

"Matilda, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not singling you out. I just think we're all in the same department, seeing each other every day. There's really no need to take things this far."

I looked at her, and the words came out dry as bone.

"Far? Spending my money to buy yourself goodwill. Now that's taking things far."

Mercedes's expression flickered.

"Matilda, that's a pretty ugly thing to say. I was trying to do something nice for the team. Everyone's been working hard, and I thought it'd lift the mood. But you? You made a scene in front of the delivery guy and embarrassed the entire department."

A few of the colleagues who'd been tearing into those bags yesterday jumped right in.

"Seriously, it was such a small thing. Why blow it up like that?"

"I ended up spending an extra hundred bucks, and my husband chewed me out for wasting money when I got home!"

I almost laughed from the sheer absurdity.

Nobody forced them to drink a thing. They didn't get their freebie, and suddenly they were the victims.

"So what you're all saying is, I owe you an apology?"

Conrad put on his best peacemaker face.

"Matilda, no need to be so harsh. Mercedes meant well. You're doing better than most of us. Would it kill you to look out for the team once in a while?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Then why don't you look out for them? Your numbers were the highest in the department last month."

Conrad's mouth opened and closed. Nothing came out.

Another woman picked up the slack without missing a beat.

"That's completely different. Conrad's got a family to support, a wife and kids. Not like you. Thirty years old and still single. If you're not the one treating, who should be?"

A cold weight settled in my chest.

In their eyes, being thirty and unmarried made me the easiest target in the room.

Mercedes watched the crowd rally to her side, and the triumph in her eyes was barely contained.

"Matilda, why put yourself through this? You already offended the whole department yesterday. If you still won't admit you were wrong today, the only person who's going to suffer is you."

"Trust me. All it takes is one word from me about you not being a team player, and the manager will make sure your performance bonus and your client list both take a hit this quarter. And when that happens, not a single person here will have your back."

Everyone within earshot heard what she said. Not a single person spoke up. They all pretended they hadn't heard a thing.

Their seamless solidarity made the whole scene feel pointless.

"Fine. Then let's see if you actually have the pull to back that up."

I turned back to my work and tried to focus.

But the stares coming from every direction never let up. Not for a second.

Someone muttered just loud enough to be heard:

"Must be nice earning so much. Even a cup of coffee is too precious to share."

I acted like I hadn't heard.

I barely survived until the end of the day. I was packing up to leave when my phone started buzzing nonstop.

Someone had dropped a screenshot into the company-wide group chat.

I tapped on it, and the blood rushed straight to my head.

It was my pay stub from last month. Base salary, bonus, project commission. Every single line item, laid bare.

And beneath the screenshot, someone had added a caption that burned itself into my eyes:

"$6,000 a month, and she won't even treat the department to an afternoon coffee run. What's the point of keeping someone like that around?"

The group chat erupted.

"$6,000 a month? No wonder she acts like she's above everyone."

"Making that much and she can't even spring for coffee? Why do we even keep her?"

I stared at the wall of messages, and something inside me sank, slow and heavy.

A leaked pay stub was a serious violation. But not a single person in that chat cared who had posted it.

All they cared about was why I wasn't spending my money on them.

The next morning, I had barely stepped into the department before I saw a crowd gathered around the bulletin board.

Pinned right in the center was my pay stub.

Next to it, someone had taped up unflattering photos of me with a label scrawled across them: CHEAPSKATE OF THE YEAR.

The cleaning lady looked uneasy.

"Ms. Chavez, it was already up when I got here this morning. I was going to tear it down, but that intern in your department told me to leave it."

I reached up and ripped every sheet off the board. Mercedes walked over right on cue, pressing a hand to her mouth in exaggerated shock.

"Oh my God, who would do something like that? But honestly, Matilda, if things have gotten this bad, you can't really blame everyone else, can you?"

I stared at her.

"Was this you?"

Mercedes blinked, the picture of innocence.

"Matilda, don't go throwing around accusations. There are hundreds of people in the company chat. Could've been anyone. But hey, I did stay late last night putting together your attendance records and colleague feedback. I'm about to hand them to Manager Whitney."

I looked at that face, barely concealing its smugness, and felt nothing but revulsion.

I didn't waste another word on her. I turned and headed straight for the manager's office. But before I could even open my mouth, Mercedes was already there, eyes rimming red.

"Manager Whitney, I'm so sorry to bother you with this. I never thought it would blow up like this. If I'd known Matilda was going to come make trouble for you, I would've just paid for the coffee myself."

She glanced at me, timid and wounded, as if she were the one who'd been wronged.

"Here are her recent attendance records, colleague evaluations, and client reception notes."

Maurice picked up the folder, flipped through two pages, and tossed it onto his desk with open irritation.

"Well, well, Matilda. So this is how you've been working. Half your colleagues describe you as selfish and uncooperative. How exactly do you expect to be a team player with an attitude like this?"

Right. I didn't buy them coffee, so now I was selfish and uncooperative. They were the ones who'd lost their minds.

I was about to respond when the door swung open and Duncan Swanson walked in. His gaze found me almost immediately.

"What's all the noise about? You're Matilda Chavez?"

"That's me."

Mr. Swanson's expression was cold, his face stamped with undisguised contempt.

"You think a decent paycheck makes you untouchable? Someone asks you to cover one coffee run and you turn it into a company-wide circus? This company needs people who can work with a team, not some overpaid prima donna who makes life miserable for everyone around her."

He didn't even give me a chance to speak. He turned to Maurice and said,

"Is the termination process done yet? Keeping someone like her around will only poison the culture. Freeze her performance bonus, have her hand over every single client account, and get the exit paperwork finished today."

The office went dead silent.

I stared at him, the sheer absurdity of it almost laughable.

How much business had I brought this company over the years? My active contracts this year alone were worth over ten million dollars. And he wanted to fire me now, at the worst possible time. Had he lost his mind?

I looked at them and asked a single question.

"So if I just make sure the afternoon coffee run is taken care of every day from now on, you won't fire me?"

Mercedes's expression froze for a split second, but she recovered fast, putting on a magnanimous smile.

"Oh, Matilda, don't be so dramatic. Nobody's trying to take advantage of you. It's just that what you did before was really a bad look. How about this: if you post a public apology in the group chat today and cover the afternoon coffee for the rest of the month, I think we could let you stay."

Mr. Swanson jumped in immediately.

"You hear that? If it weren't for Mercedes putting in a good word, you'd already be packing your desk."

Maurice spoke up too, his face like stone.

"Matilda, don't push your luck. Post the apology in the group chat before end of day, start buying the afternoon coffee tomorrow, and I might be generous enough to let you keep your job."

Mercedes could barely contain her grin.

"Oh, let's not be too hard on her. But you know, it's been so hot lately, just coffee in the afternoon isn't really enough. Some fruit and little cakes would be nice too, don't you think?"

I said nothing.

I gave her one long look, then turned and walked out. Behind me, Mercedes's laughter spilled through the office door, barely restrained.

"Manager Whitney, you and Mr. Swanson really know how to handle people. Some folks just don't behave until you put them in their place."

I pulled out my phone and dialed the number.

The call connected almost instantly.

"Ms. Chavez, you've finally made up your mind?"

I leaned against the wall and let out a slow breath.

"The offer. I accept. But before I leave, I need you to look into something for me."

My voice dropped cold.

"I want you to dig up everything there is to know about three people in my department: Mercedes Brady, whoever's backing her, and Maurice Whitney. Tonight."