Harper's words sank into my chest like a knife.

Before I could even process how absurd that sounded, I instinctively asked, "In that case, what about you? You're five years my senior, and your second child is already in kindergarten. How much do you make a month?"

Harper curled her lip and responded casually, "Eight grand, but Mr. Hawthorne is my cousin."

That one sentence knocked the wind out of my sails.

All of a sudden, I recalled the countless all-nighters I'd pulled over the last three years, the countless slices of cold office pizza I had shoveled down at my desk just to meet deadlines, and the professional training courses I'd paid for out of my own pocket just to upskill.

I had busted my ass for so long and put up with so much bullshit, and in the end, none of it mattered because, according to my boss, I was a woman.

Because I was a woman, my staggering contributions meant less than a male intern who didn't know how to do a damn thing. Because I had no connections, I was deemed unworthy of a fair wage, even though this place would literally fall apart without me. It all boiled down to the fact that I was born female.

I let out a derisive chuckle. "Right." I rose to my feet. "I see how it is."

Harper froze. "What?"

Ignoring her, I threw open the door and walked out. It hit me that this dumpster fire of a company should've burned to the ground six years ago.

I yanked open my desk drawer. My eyes landed on the voice recorder I'd recently bought. It was originally meant for meeting minutes, but now, it was the only weapon I had to fight back.

I tucked the voice recorder securely into my breast pocket.

Right then, a cup of coffee was placed in front of me. It was from Mason Brooks, my boyfriend of three years, who was technically my superior. "Harper told me you're throwing in the towel?"

Without looking up, I responded, "Yep."

"Is it because of your salary?"

I froze and looked up at him. "You knew about it?"

He went silent for a moment. "I did."

"How much do you make a month?"

Since we weren't married yet, I had never asked about his salary. However, right now, I was dying to know.

Mason avoided my gaze when he heard that. "30,000 dollars. But I'm a project manager, and you're just the coordinator. We're on different rungs of the ladder, so obviously it's not apples to apples."

Looking him in the eye, I rebutted, "You were promoted to project manager at the start of the year, but you've been pulling that same salary for the last two. I started handling the coordination for the company's major projects the year before last, and my pathetic 5% raise didn't even put me at a third of your salary.

"It's been six years. I know every single project in this company inside out, and every single department takes its cues from me. Without me, this company would collapse before lunch, and we wouldn't be able to ship a single product. Mason, in this company, I'm more important than you!"

His brows knitted. "So what if you are? Talent doesn't automatically mean a bigger paycheck. Mr. Hawthorne calls the shots on salaries. If you've got a problem, take it up with him."

I rose from my seat. "You're right. That's exactly what I'm going to do."

I was going to demand what I was owed for the last six years. With that, I marched straight toward the elevators.

Mason was caught off guard. He chased after me and tried to stop me. "Don't do anything rash, Soph!"

Paying him no mind, I slammed my finger onto the elevator button. As I traveled from the bullpen to the fifth floor, memories of my years here flooded my mind.

Back in 2022, I was a fresh graduate at a fall job fair when I met Vincent Hawthorne, who was only 37 years old at the time. At the time, his startup was in its infancy. He had no capital, just pure, unadulterated drive.

He told me, "Don't judge a book by its cover, Sophia. We might only have a handful of people right now, but we've got vision, and we're willing to break our backs for it. If you join us, I promise you won't regret it!"

I had believed Mr. Hawthorne.

In year one, the company operated out of a puny 200-square-foot apartment in a residential neighborhood. It had been stiflingly hot in the summer and bitterly cold in the winter.

As the only woman on the team, Mr. Hawthorne had made sure to look out for me. Every month on payday, he'd slip me an extra 500 dollars to make up for the rough conditions.

"Sophia, you're a top graduate from a prestigious university. I hate putting you through this," he had admitted. Back then, everyone else had made just four grand a month, while I'd started at six grand right out of the gate.

Year two, things had started looking up. We relocated to an 861-square-foot office in a prime commercial building, and I finally had my own office.

Mr. Hawthorne was over the moon on moving day. He generously granted me a 5% raise at the end of the year, which amounted to an extra 300 dollars. That same year, Mason joined the company as my subordinate with a base salary of 8,000 dollars.

In the third year, I was barely sleeping, churning out 16 different proposals in half a month to secure Imperium Group's project. It was a massive windfall that permanently put the company on the map. My reward, however, was a cheap, wholesale award banner and a mountain of new responsibilities as the sole contact for all major accounts.

Mr. Hawthorne had patted me on the shoulder and said, "I knew I could count on you, Sophia. The future of this company rests entirely on your shoulders now."

I was 25 that year, pulling in a grand total of 6,300 dollars.

Flash forward to the fourth and fifth years; my portfolio grew, the business boomed, and we took over four entire floors of a commercial building in one fell swoop. Ironically, I lost my office in the move because Mason had been promoted to manager, and his new status required my square footage.

Mr. Hawthorn had already spotted a beer belly from all the wining and dining then. His eyes were always cloudy, jaundiced, and he radiated pure, unadulterated corporate sleaze.

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, Sophia. We passed on you for this promotion because your real strength belongs out in the field with clients, not behind a desk." Mr. Hawthorne took a drag from his cigar, acting as if he only had my best interests at heart.

"Mason may have joined the company later than you, and he may not have many achievements, but he's still a man. It's a lot more convenient for him to entertain clients at dinners. Plus, when your subordinates step out of line, a guy just has an easier time keeping them in line, wouldn't you agree?"

I had been so naive back then. I thought he had a point.

Besides, I genuinely hated being chained to a desk. So long as my boss valued me, a hollow title didn't mean a thing. Yet now, with Mason's entitled words ringing in my ears—"We're on different rungs of the ladder"—I realized what a joke I'd been.

Just then, the elevator chimed as it reached the fifth floor. I took a deep breath, walked to Mr. Hawthorne's office, and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I pushed the door open to find Mr. Hawthorne smoking. When he saw me, he casually stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray next to him and said lowly, "Harper already filled me in about your resignation."

He personally poured me a glass of water. "Look, I get it; you're unhappy with your salary. However, you're one of our day ones. The company has nurtured you for so many years, and now you're just going to walk out on us? That's a pretty low blow, Sophia."

There it was again. Holding the glass of water, I met his gaze calmly. "I've been with this company for six years, and I make 6,615 dollars a month, Mr. Hawthorne. That intern has only been here for three months, and he makes 12,000 dollars."

His expression stiffened for a split second before morphing into a look of solemn concern. "Yes... Well, the payroll discrepancy was a total oversight on my end. Tell you what, I'll give you another 5% raise. How does that sound?"

A 5% increase on 6,615 dollars would bring me to 6,945.75 dollars. It didn't even crack seven grand. It left me short of that intern's pay by a staggering five grand.

I stood my ground. "I've stuck by you for six years, Mr. Hawthorne. When we were scraping bottom, we didn't even have a water cooler, and we had to stock our own toilet paper. But back then, you started me out two grand more than the others.

"Now that the company's thriving and my baseline projects are clearing five million dollars, you won't even put me on an even playing field with an intern. Why is that?" I locked eyes with him, waiting for the final blow that would make me walk away for good.

Mr. Hawthorne tugged at the corner of his lips and instinctively reached for a cigarette. "Sophia, I seriously didn't want to spell it out for you in this manner, but since you're forcing my hand, let me lay it out for you; it's because you're a woman!"

"Okay, and?"

The fat on his face suddenly quivered. "I've done my research. Do you know the percentage of female executives in Fortune 500 companies? 21%!

"In fact, there are elite corporations out there with zero women in the C-suite. What does that tell you? Biologically speaking, women just don't measure up to men!"

"But my sales revenue has consistently been number one in this company," I bit back.

He scoffed. "So what? Aren't you going to tie the knot with Mr. Brooks any day now?"

I stiffened. "So what if I am?"

"So, you've lost your value," he explained in a deadpan, matter-of-fact tone. "Think about it; once you marry him, you'll have to stay home and be a traditional housewife, and once you have kids, you'll have to be a good mother. How are you going to juggle a job and a household?

"If the company keeps you on, we'll be on the hook for your marriage leave, maternity leave, and childcare leave down the road. Who's going to cover those losses for us? Besides, everyone on the internet claims that women lose their edge after marriage.

"You're 28 now; you're basically 30, and menopause is just around the corner. The market is flooded with fresh, young talent. Why the hell should I keep you on the payroll?"

The warmth had completely drained from my eyes. "My performance is unmatched," I stated apathetically.

"You're a woman. For all I know, you got those clients in bed," he grumbled under his breath.

"I'm highly capable."

"No matter how capable you are, it doesn't change the fact that your boyfriend's the one running the department," he sneered.

"I've been with this company for six years. I built this place up from scratch. I have the highest seniority here."

"And that's the only reason I haven't cut you loose. I even offered to give you a raise. 5% is nothing to sneeze at."

I checked out of the conversation. Staring at the glass of water in front of me, I let the silence stretch.

Mr. Hawthorne reached out and patted me on the shoulder. "Come on, let's put a smile on that face. I'll do you a favor and round it up to a clean seven grand. Consider your resignation revoked. So long as you work hard, the company will take care of you.

"Oh, right, the signing ceremony with Imperium Group is on the books for tomorrow, isn't it? Make sure you prepare well. This is our biggest project of the year. Don't let me down!"

Imperium Group was a client I had been managing for three years. Within the industry, it had always been renowned for a corporate culture that respected women's rights in the workplace and opposed gender discrimination. In a delicious twist of fate, their newly minted CEO, Cecilia Waverly, was a powerhouse of a woman who had once suffered from severe workplace discrimination.

Lifting my gaze to look at the beaming man, I rose from my chair. "Rest assured, Mr. Hawthorne, I won't let you down."

With that, I spun on my heel and left. Hidden inside my breast pocket, the voice recorder and mini-cam—which had been rolling the entire time—cast a faint, barely noticeable red glow.

…

For once, sleep eluded me that night. I wasn't sure if justice would be served tomorrow. I only knew that certain actions must be taken, and someone had to take them. I was willing to be the brave pioneer.

At 8:00 am, I arrived at the company right on time, and everything was business as usual.