My name becomes the sensational topic on the trending list thanks to my company's employees, who have cyberbullied me relentlessly.

It all started when an intern named Cecily Plinkton posted a complaint on her social media feed, claiming that the seafood thermidor, a new food item that had just gotten released in the company's cafeteria, was sold for 14 dollars, which was four dollars more expensive than before.

"What a scum company! Are the higher-ups that crazy over money? They're just leeching from us white-collar peeps repeatedly!"

The entire Internet doesn't hesitate to curse me out. They claim that I'm a cold-blooded capitalist who's greedy enough to charge her own employees for lunch.

No one cares about the fact that I've been shelling out my own money in order to upgrade the cafeteria's food choices just so I could make the employees happier.

Every day, they get to eat over hundreds of dishes to their fill for free. Every week, the expensive dishes, such as lobsters and crabs, are charged at the net price.

Thanks to these free benefits, the administrative department has been suffering from almost a one-million-dollar loss every year.

So, I announce that the food prices in the cafeteria will be changed to reflect the current market's prices. At the same time, I've fired the head chef and the kitchen staff and left the meal preparation to another company that produces instant meals.

As soon as the announcement is made, the entire company goes into a frenzy. The employees all crowd outside my office while begging me to bring back the benefits with tears streaking down their cheeks.

At 8:30 am on Wednesday, my phone started vibrating like crazy.

Susan Tarp, my assistant, barged in without knocking, her voice already carrying a sob.

"Ms. Clarke! We've got a problem! The company's trending on social media!"

I unlocked my phone. The screen was flooded with unread notifications. All my text messaging apps were blowing up.

I opened InstaBook. The number one trending local topic was "Shocking! One bowl of seafood thermidor costs 14 dollars—heartless company exploits interns!"

The entry had a fire emoji next to it, and the view count had already surpassed three million.

I clicked in. The attached video already had over 700 thousand views.

The video thumbnail showed our company cafeteria's serving window, with the caption reading, "An intern earning 1,500 dollars a month can't afford a single meal in the company cafeteria! How heartless are these capitalists?"

The poster's ID was "Hardworking CCP".

It was her—Cecily Plinkton, an intern who had joined the design department two months ago.

In the video, Cecily sat on the flower bed just outside the office building. The camera zoomed in deliberately, making the glint of tears at the corners of her eyes painfully obvious.

Her voice quivered, full of grievance.

"I really can't believe this… I always thought our company had the best benefits in the industry. I turned down several offers from the big tech companies just because I was drawn to the corporate culture here. I thought I'd finally found a place where I could devote my whole career to.

"But today, the cafeteria suddenly decided to charge for the seafood thermidor—and at 14 dollars per bowl, no less!"

She held up two fingers toward the camera, then folded one back.

"14 dollars!" she wailed, her voice suddenly rising sharply. "That's four dollars more expensive than the previous priciest dish."

She opened her eyes wide, and tears started sliding down at the perfect moment.

"I really want to ask the company's Administrative Director, Moira Clarke—have you lost your mind? Are you that desperate for money?

"Why do you have to treat us, the lowest-level employees, like this? Do you even know how much we make a month? How much profit do you plan on raking in per meal?"

Then, she pulled out her phone to show a screenshot.

It was an audio clip of me speaking at an internal administrative department meeting, now subtitled. My explanation that the ingredients for seafood thermidor were costly and could no longer be provided for free was maliciously edited, leaving only a single, unfeeling line.

"If you can't afford it, then don't eat it. The company doesn't support freeloaders."

At the end of the video, Cecily forced a smile at the camera.

"Forget it… Maybe I was just too naive to think that the company was my second home. I hope all fresh graduates like me will keep their eyes wide open when job hunting. Don't be like me—walking in full of hope, only to end up getting milked dry."

I clicked into the comment section. It had already blown up.

"A four-dollar price increase? Is this company planning to make a run for it? Are they that desperate for money?"

"I support you, babe! Expose that heartless director called Moira Clarke! Kick her out of the company!"

"What's the name of this trash company? Drop the name! Let's all boycott it!"

"Come out and apologize to the interns, @MoiraClarke!"

"These bloodsucking capitalists should be bound at the company entrance for public shaming!"

Three years of my blood, sweat, and tears… Nearly one million dollars of personal subsidies every year… But it'd all been reduced to being "heartless" and "desperate for money".

Susan shoved her phone toward me, her hand shaking.

"Ms. Clarke! The internal company chat has blown up! Everyone's reposting Cecily's video, and some people are even… Some are even saying they're going to report us to the Department of Labor and the Department of Revenue!"

She paused, her voice dropping even lower. "And also… the cafeteria's Chef Pollard just sent word through someone. He asked if we plan to lay off his team and said that several suppliers have been calling about overdue payments…"

My phone rang again. It was the project director from our biggest client, Stellar Group.

His tone was extremely serious. "Ms. Clarke. I've seen the trending news about your company. Our company cares deeply about the reputation and stability of our partners. The board… has expressed serious concern about your current employee relations and the public backlash."

This was a major contract our marketing department had pursued for a whole year, with over five million dollars in annual profit. The profit from this single deal would directly determine the year-end bonuses for everyone in the company.

I took a deep breath, knuckles whitening from how tightly I clenched my fists.

My mind went back to the day of Cecily's final interview two months ago. As the final-round interviewer, the last question I asked her was, "Why did you choose our company?"

Her eyes had sparkled then, full of excitement and hope.

"Ms. Clarke! I've watched all your interviews! I especially resonate with what you said about how a company should be the strongest support for its employees! Especially the cafeteria here—it's practically a legend in the industry! It's my dream to work here!"

Strongest support? Legend?

I also recalled that in recent employee feedback sessions, there was always one longtime employee, nearly ten years in, leading the complaints. His name was Jeremy Stinson, from the technical department.

"Aren't our company's benefits a bit too excessive? Eating like this every day—how much does this cafeteria cost daily?

"Ms. Clarke is still too young and doesn't know how to manage money. How much company profit is wasted here?"

And every single time, Cecily just happened to be sitting next to him, nodding furiously.

I laughed bitterly.

Had I done too well these past three years that they had come to take everything for granted? Did they assume I was a pushover—someone they could push around at will?

I opened my laptop and pulled up the administrative department's financial records for the past three years.

The award-winning chef team had an annual salary of 1.6 million dollars. Daily procurement costs for premium ingredients were around 12.5 thousand dollars. And then there were the costs of afternoon snacks for the employees, holiday benefits, and so on.

After deducting the company-approved basic meal subsidies, I personally had to subsidize the cafeteria by approximately 935 thousand dollars every year.

I closed the laptop, and calmness returned to my gaze.

Since all they could see was that "four dollars", then I'd just show them what would be left in their bowls without my subsidy.

I began drafting a new announcement.

At 9:30 am, I hadn't even left my office when the door was suddenly shoved open from the outside.

Cecily and Jeremy walked in one after the other. Cecily wore the smug expression of a victor, her back straight as her gaze swept over me appraisingly, while Jeremy had a hypocritical smile plastered on his face.

He spoke first, "Ms. Clarke, don't take it personally. Cecily's just outspoken and blunt. She doesn't have any bad intentions. She just felt that the sudden price hike hurt everyone's feelings, so she wanted to speak up for us longtime employees."

Cecily no longer pretended to hide anything. She shoved her phone screen right in front of my face, showing me the skyrocketing video stats.

"Have you seen this, Ms. Clarke? The whole internet is talking about our company."

Cecily continued, "My account gained 100 thousand followers in just half an hour, and several big accounts with millions of followers have already reposted my video.

"If you insist on not lowering the price and refuse to apologize to us, I'm afraid… things could spiral beyond the company's control."

Jeremy immediately jumped in to play the good cop.

"Actually, resolving this is pretty simple. We're not unreasonable people, either.

"First, the seafood thermidor has to go back to being free. That's a matter of principle. Second, the administrative department needs to issue an apology in your name to all employees.

"And third, to compensate for the emotional distress this incident has caused everyone, the company should credit 250 dollars to every employee's meal card as compensation.

"If you handle it this way, everyone can walk away with their dignity intact, and we can put this behind us."

At that moment, Susan frantically burst in again, her face deathly pale.

"Ms. Clarke! It's bad! Downstairs… Downstairs in the lobby… A huge group of employees has gathered in the lobby, and they're saying that… if you don't give them an explanation today, they're not going to get back to work!

"And they've… They've even printed out a bunch of banners…"

I took Susan's phone and clicked on the photos she'd taken.

On the polished marble floor of the company's lobby, dozens of employees were either sitting or standing, holding up bold, striking banners that read "Evil company! Give us back our hard-earned money!" and "The heartless director must go!"

My eyes landed on a figure at the front of the crowd. It was Kenan Jeller, the director of the design department.

Last year, when a major mistake occurred on one of the projects he was in charge of, I went against everyone's objections to vouch for him and even voluntarily took half the blame and penalty myself.

I personally went with him to apologize to the client and pulled three consecutive all-nighters to salvage the project.

Afterward, he came to my office holding a cup of coffee, his eyes red.

"Ms. Clarke, from now on, my life is yours… Just say the word, and I, Kenan Jeller, will follow without question!"

But at this very moment, in the photo on Susan's phone, Kenan could be seen holding a sheet of paper high above his head. On it, in bold black letters, were the words "I stand with Cecily! Punish Moira! Give us back our benefits!"

My hands started shaking, and my nails were digging so hard into my palms that they nearly broke the skin.

I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, only icy calm remained.

I looked at Cecily and Jeremy in front of me and asked flatly, "What you want… is for me to answer for this, right?"

…

As time ticked toward 2:00 pm, the company's largest conference hall was packed to capacity.

More than 400 employees company-wide—except for those required to stay on essential duty—were almost all present. This was the largest all-hands meeting in the company's history.

Cecily and Jeremy were surrounded by a crowd of supporters in the center of the front row. People kept going up to them, patting them on the shoulders and giving them thumbs-ups.

"Well done, Cecily! You're the whistleblower our company needed!"

"Jeremy, we owe this all to your behind-the-scenes strategizing!"

"You two are heroes to the rest of us working people!"

Whispers spread through the crowd.

"Just watch. That Clarke lady is definitely done for this time."

"No doubt. With how big things have gotten, the chairman will have to deal with her."

"Maybe we'll even get some compensation out of this!"

"Let's see if she can still strut around the office after this."

At 2:00 pm sharp, I stepped onto the stage, followed by a few department heads whose expressions were unreadable.

The moment I appeared, the entire hall fell silent, and hundreds of pairs of eyes locked onto me instantly.

I walked up to the microphone and got straight down to business.

"I apologize for taking your valuable afternoon work time to announce a major reform regarding our company cafeteria," I started, my voice calm and steady.

"First, regarding the recent public uproar over the cafeteria pricing… I, Moira Clarke, as Administrative Director of the company, would like to apologize to everyone."