The moment I stepped into work in my mini skirt, my supervisor’s unsettling eyes locked onto me.

With a smirk tugging at his lips, he said, “It’s getting chilly; I wouldn’t want you to get cold. How about warming up on my lap?”

“My kidneys are aching. How about you come to give them a little tap, sweetheart?”

Using my black belt skills in Taekwondo, I kicked him back a good two meters. Yet, he had the nerve to twist the story in front of everyone, saying, “I love my wife and kids. I can’t accept your advances, no matter how bold you are.”

Now, everyone at the company thought I was using my looks to move up in the company. And that scoundrel? He’d played this game before! But I wasn’t about to hold back anymore.

As a true heiress, it was time for some girl power to teach this pervert a lesson!

—

“Well, Dixie, wearing a mini skirt and showing some leg today, are we? Come over and sit on my lap.”

Thinking I had misheard, I paused mid-coffee prep and turned around, stunned.

There was Declan Wright, the forty-something supervisor, lounging on the break room sofa, patting his thigh and giving me a clear signal to come over.

He grinned, the kind of smirk that sent a chill down my spine. “Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s getting colder, and I’m just concerned about a delicate young lady like you catching a chill. Come here; I’ll warm you up.”

To me, it was nothing short of bewildering. The same supervisor who had once been all serious and precise, the one who had trained me and earned the respect of the company’s upper management, had shown his true colors in just four days of working together.

In a flurry of nerves, I grabbed my coffee cup and turned to escape the break room, but as I hurried past, Declan’s fingers wrapped around my hand, holding me in place.

"You girls always act so pure," he sneered, his middle-aged voice dripping with disdain. "A new guy picks you up every day. How about I take you home today?"

Out of nowhere, a cold realization hit me. The thought crept in that I felt like I was being followed to and from work lately, and it seemed all too likely that he was responsible.

He wasn’t mistaken. Over the past four days, I’d found myself with men of all ages, from a distinguished 65-year-old to a fit 21-year-old, each giving me a ride. Some had a fatherly demeanor, others were young and muscular, but someone was always new. He must have spotted me with these men and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Not wanting to make waves as the new employee, I subtly pulled my hand free and whispered, “Please, show some respect.”

He seemed lost in his own thoughts, muttering, “Oh, I get it. It’s the office; better keep it low-key.”

With a crooked smile, he turned, bent over, and stuck his rear toward me. “My kidneys hurt; how about you give them a tap?”

I fought to keep my anger buried deep, my voice unwavering as I responded, “Go home and let your wife handle that.”

He sneered, a wicked glint in his eye. “Come on, don’t be shy. You’re already juggling so many men; what’s one more?”

Enough was enough. If I stayed silent now, I’d be letting him walk all over me. Dropping my careful tone, I smiled sweetly, “Are you ready?”

“Come on, baby!” Declan’s smirk deepened, his tongue running over his lips as he tilted his hips in a taunting gesture.

Placing my coffee aside, I raised my right foot and, with the precision of a Taekwondo strike, delivered a solid kick straight to his backside. He shot backward, landing with a thud two meters away, groaning in pain. The sound brought my colleagues rushing into the break room to see what had caused the commotion.

I lifted my coffee, a smug grin playing on my lips, ready to spill the beans on what had just gone down, until Declan, with his usual flair, twisted the entire story, flipping it on its head in a heartbeat.

"Dixie, I love my wife and kids. No matter how daring you get, I’ll never fall for your advances," Declan grumbled, sprawled across the floor, rubbing his backside with one hand. At the same time, his other hand slammed into the ground in irritation.

“You’re young, with your whole life ahead of you. Why cling to an old man like me?” He continued, his voice dripping with disapproval. “I’ve put up with your flirtatious messages, but today you crossed the line. Grabbing my hand and trying to pull it under your clothes, when I refused, you resorted to violence. How did a sweet girl like you end up acting like this?”

I never imagined that Declan would be such a master of deception, weaving one lie after another with such skill. His every word and expression seemed so believable that it was hard to tell where the truth ended, and the deceit began.

My colleagues, charmed by Declan's show, couldn’t help but gossip behind my back.

“She just graduated, yet she's already flaunting a designer bag worth a fortune. And getting picked up in luxury cars? Told you she was no ordinary girl.”

“Maybe she’s just from a wealthy family. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“Rich girls don’t have a new guy chauffeuring them every day. She’s probably keeping a few ‘goldfish’ on the side.”

“And Declan’s not even loaded. Guess she’s getting desperate.”

The comments kept coming, each one driving another nail into my coffin of humiliation.

Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I couldn’t hold back. “Stop swallowing his one-sided story! He’s the one who harassed me. There are cameras in the break room, check the footage, and you’ll see the truth!”

Rather than standing by me, my colleagues merely laughed from the sidelines, their mocking glances as biting as their words. Just as I felt myself drowning in frustration, Skylar White, a teammate, rushed over and gripped my arm, whispering urgently, “The break room cameras? They’re fake, just cheap plastic props to scare off thieves.”

I stared at her, utterly stunned, my disbelief clear.

Declan rose, brushing off his clothes and adjusting his glasses with calculated ease, before adding, “I told you on your first day that the break room cameras were just for show. Who would’ve thought you’d be bold enough to exploit that little detail and pull a stunt like this in the company?”

“Since you’re still young and perhaps didn’t know any better, I’ll overlook this one. Let’s not involve management and instead let this be a learning moment. We should all give her a chance.”

With a dismissive wave, he sent everyone back to their workstations.

As he turned to leave, he cast a sideways glance at me, a frigid, taunting smile playing on his lips.

Clearly, he feared any slip that might reveal his deceit, and so he dispersed the crowd. But I was left with no power, forced to bury my anger and suffer the indignity in silence.

Noticing my frustration, Skylar gave my shoulder a gentle pat, her sigh full of sympathy. “Dixie, don’t waste your energy fighting him. Just let it slide.”

Hearing her tone, I sensed she understood the truth. “You believe me?”

“It’s not about believing you,” she replied coolly. “I just don’t trust a single word that spills out of Declan’s mouth.”

I looked at her, confusion clouding my face, and she took her time, carefully laying out the situation.

“He once invited me for a late-night drink,” she began, frustration lacing her words. “When I turned him down, he shoved all the dirty, back-breaking tasks onto me and started spreading rumors about my so-called incompetence. Every month, he gives me a ‘C’ rating, so after more than six months here, I’m still nowhere near a promotion.”

“Didn’t you report him to management?” I asked.

“It’s no use. The HR director, Fergus Clark, is his uncle; they’ve got each other’s backs,” she retorted.

"The girl who held your position before was named Tessa. We started here at the same time, but when she reported Declan's behavior to HR, they fired her without a single explanation the very next day."

I scoffed, “Good riddance to that place! Who’d want to stay in such a toxic environment?”

Skylar shook her head, continuing, “It wasn’t that simple. After she was fired, Tessa tried to apply to other companies in the same field. Still, each time they ran a background check, Declan slandered her, piling on false accusations. In the end, the only work she could find was in a coffee shop, doing odd jobs.”

“As far as I know, Tessa didn’t come from a wealthy family,” Skylar murmured. “Her parents were both disabled, and she had to rely on scholarships and social assistance just to get through school.”

Just as she finished speaking, Declan appeared in the break room doorway, his voice sharp. “Skylar, where are the 500 promotional flyers I asked for? Make sure they’re printed by 4 p.m. and delivered to the storage room on the tenth floor. If you don’t finish, you’ll be staying late.”

Under Declan’s biting command, Skylar hurried off to complete the task, leaving me alone with him, locked in a silent, searing stare. His gaze was taunting, while I, brimming with rage, wanted nothing more than to tear him apart.

In this unfair world, where it was already an uphill battle for women to secure decent jobs, people like Declan poisoned the path for hard-working, talented women. Anger simmered within me.

Once I was home from work, I went straight to Hunter’s room and spoke with authority. "Tell your headhunter to head to Artemis Coffee Shop tomorrow and find a girl named Tessa. Get her a position in the publicity department, level P3 or above, and make sure her salary is at least ten thousand. Handle everything else however you see fit."

Hunter was in the middle of a video meeting when his eyes flicked up to mine, his face a mix of surprise and confusion.

Even with the bewilderment lingering in his gaze, he didn’t skip a beat.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand in a sharp motion, flashing me a confident "OK" sign.

A sense of satisfaction settled over me as I made my way to my room. The door clicked shut behind me, and just as I let out a breath, my phone buzzed with a message from Declan. [I want to see a beauty.]

He was slick, quickly retracting the message, likely to avoid any screenshots. A video call request popped up not a moment later, which I rejected with such force that I nearly jabbed the screen in frustration.

Declan sent another message. [Scorpios are truly ruthless. I’m honestly scared you’ll eat me alive.]

I slammed my fingers against the keyboard, fury coursing through me. [Don’t worry. I don’t eat garbage!!]

Dad noticed the tension in my expression and asked with a hint of concern, "Dixie, Carlo mentioned you seemed upset when you left work. Was it because I didn’t come to pick you up today?"

Since my graduation, Dad had been urging me to step into the family business, but my pride stood in the way. I was determined to carve my own path.

With a job finally secured, Dad and my brother’s concerns about my driving still lingered. They wouldn’t hear of me taking the subway or bus, stubbornly insisting on driving me to and from work themselves.

Their busy lives often kept them from driving me around, so occasionally, their driver would fill in. That was how I ended up with a different man picking me up every day.

That’s when the idea struck me. Since Declan believed I thrived off men, thinking he might be next in line, why not let him chase that fleeting hope?

Letting go of my usual tough, independent act, I softened my voice. I asked sweetly, “Dad, could you take me to work in your favorite car tomorrow?”

Dad raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. “Wait, wasn’t Miss Low-Profile just talking about keeping things low-key? And now you’re after my prized car?”

I shifted back into full-on boss mode, my tone sharp. “So, are you going to agree or not? If not, I’ll take the bus to work tomorrow!”

“Alright, alright, who could possibly say no to my darling girl?”

The next morning, Dad took the wheel of his Maserati, driving me to the office with his usual flair.

As soon as the car rolled to a stop, I caught sight of Declan lurking in an alley, casually munching on a sandwich. He looked like he’d been camped out there for a while, waiting to snap photos for his “evidence” collection.

Pretending I hadn’t seen him, I leaned over and kissed Dad’s cheek, then hugged him tightly, my arms slipping around his neck. Sitting stiffly in the driver’s seat, Dad wore a blend of confusion and concern. “Dixie, if work’s making you miserable, just quit. Don’t push yourself until you’re ill.”

I pulled back with a grin. “Smile, and make it look natural! No disgusted faces! And when I get out, don’t forget to say a heartfelt goodbye, or I swear, I’ll never let you drive me again!”

Under the pressure of my threats and persuasion, Dad finally relented. I made sure to play the part, acting shy and playful, as I slipped out of the car and waved him goodbye.

The reverse psychology worked like a charm. I hadn’t even reached the office doors when Declan appeared.