In less than ten minutes, Chloe Miller posted a new video.

She had screenshotted Rachel's post and all the employee comments.

In the video, she was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, her whole body trembling.

"I'm so scared... They... they are all ganging up on me!"

"Sloane has turned the company into her personal fiefdom! All the employees have been brainwashed by her!"

"They're all conspiring to push me out!"

"This company is terrifying! They're all working together to push me over the edge!"

"Boycott Aura" became the new trending hashtag.

A coordinated cyberbullying campaign against my employees had begun.

Rachel was doxxed.

A photo of her five-year-old son was photoshopped into vile memes and spread across Reddit and 4chan.

Grace's phone was bombarded with abusive calls and death threats.

Every employee who supported me had their personal information leaked.

Vicious private messages flooded their social media accounts.

"The boss's loyal lapdogs!"

"Brainwashed idiots! You deserve everything you get!"

"I hope your whole family dies!"

When Rachel came to see me, she was on the verge of collapse, her eyes red and swollen.

In front of me, she tearfully deleted the post.

"Sloane... I'm so sorry."

"My son is only five... Someone mailed a dead rat to our house..."

"My husband wants to divorce me over this..."

She handed me her resignation letter.

Grace was next.

Then the design department.

The marketing department.

All the employees who had spoken up for me had their spirits broken by the relentless harassment and threats.

One by one, they submitted their resignations.

Chloe Miller became a hero for fighting "workplace bullying."

And my company, Aura, was definitively labeled a place of "group bullying" and "mental manipulation."

Our reputation was in tatters.

A week later.

The office was empty.

Only I remained, sitting alone in the silence.

On my computer screen, every news feed was pushing the glowing image of Chloe Miller and her fiancé, James, being interviewed on Good Morning America.

Her fiancé held her close, promising the camera he would protect her for the rest of his life.

Meanwhile, my DMs were filled with thousands of vicious messages wishing death on my entire family.

My personal information had been completely exposed.

My social security number, home address, and private phone number were all over the internet.

Protesters gathered outside my apartment building, holding signs. Some even threw eggs at my windows.

The words "DEMON" and "GO DIE" were scrawled in black marker on the walls.

The building management gave me an ultimatum: move out, because I was "endangering the safety of the community."

My mom called, and the moment I answered, a torrent of accusations poured out.

"Sloane! Have you lost your mind!"

"Look at what they're saying about you online!"

"Are you just going to let your company die? You need to apologize to that girl right now!"

My dad yelled in the background, "You got into this mess because you're too rigid!"

"Are you really targeting that girl like they're saying online?"

"Your mother and I can't even show our faces in front of our friends! Everyone is talking about us!"

I hung up. The silence lasted all of two seconds.

Chloe Miller brazenly went live.

She was broadcasting her entire wedding planning process.

Trying on wedding dresses, picking out a diamond ring, decorating their new home.

With every livestream, she took a veiled jab at me.

"I really have to thank my former boss."

"It was her trying to hold me down that showed me who truly loves me."

"'Women supporting women' is just a slogan to her. I hope she can get over her bitterness someday."

The livestream chat was flooded with comments like, "Chloe, you're so kind."

Mr. Arthur Caldwell called an emergency board meeting.

After the meeting, he gave me an ultimatum.

"Sloane Hayes, you have two choices."

"One, hold a press conference immediately, publicly apologize to Chloe Miller, approve her leave, and compensate her for emotional distress."

"Two, the board will initiate a vote to forcibly remove you as CEO."

"You choose."

I replied calmly, "I refuse to apologize."

Mr. Arthur Caldwell paused for a few seconds on the other end of the line.

He roared, "You're insane!"

He hung up.

The next day, the fashion industry completely blacklisted me.

My name was removed from all business forums.

I went from "Female Entrepreneur of the Year" to "Industry Disgrace."

No one dared to mention my name.

Chloe Miller posted her digital wedding invitation on social media.

She didn't block me.

She even deliberately tagged several of my former colleagues who had resigned, including Rachel and Grace.

She wanted to make sure I saw it.

That evening, my best friend, Harper, came to try to persuade me.

She looked at the protest signs outside my apartment building, her face etched with pain.

"Sloane, you can't win against an online mob."

"It's not worth torching ten years of your hard work over an intern!"

"Just give in! The PR team already wrote the apology. All you have to do is read it, and this will all be over!"

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

I didn't explain.

I gazed out the window, a strange sense of calm settling over me.

I opened the notes app on my phone.

I silently noted the date of Chloe Miller's wedding and the name of the Napa Valley winery on the invitation.