Chapter 2

That night, a video shot straight to the top of the trending list.

The title read, "Forced Into 'Voluntary' Overtime Over the Holidays—How Am I Supposed to Love My Company?"

The star of the video was none other than Sylvie.

She maliciously edited my explanation from the afternoon meeting into cold, heartless soundbites, like "If you don't work overtime, it means you're not working hard enough," and "If you're poor, that's on you."

Then she paired it with her own masterful performance of being "utterly exhausted after having worked overtime continuously for an entire month".

On camera, her eyes were red-rimmed, and her voice was hoarse.

"I'm just a fresh graduate. I just want to take a proper holiday. Why is that so hard?

"Triple pay and a 500-dollar cash bonus—sounds tempting, right? But we're basically trading it for our lives! I don't even know how I'm supposed to love a company that traps employees with money like this!"

The video's damage was immense. Instantly, the comment section was flooded with furious commenters.

"Damn, what kind of evil boss is this? It's 2025! How is stuff like this still happening?

"Girl, run! The company isn't worth it!"

"Boycott! The company must be boycotted! Dox her! Expose this sweatshop!"

"I shared your video! More people should see how ugly and twisted capitalists are!"

My phone rang nonstop, and the company website crashed from the overwhelming traffic.

…

The next morning, I arrived at the office building with two huge dark circles under my eyes, only to find more than a dozen independent reporters blocking the entrance.

The moment I walked into the office, Sylvie strutted right in behind me, with Ryan in tow.

Ryan put on a fake look of concern. "Goodness, Ms. Pierce, this has really gotten out of hand. I've already tried talking some sense into Sylvie, but you know how impulsive young people can be.

"But then again, with public opinion being like this right now, maybe you should just go with the flow. Show some empathy for the youngsters and cancel the overtime."

Sylvie smugly waved her phone, the screen showing that her video's view count was already in the tens of millions.

"Ms. Pierce, the whole internet is on my side," she said. "I suggest you cancel the overtime immediately and issue a public apology to all employees."

She leaned in closer, lowered her voice, and added, "Otherwise, you might be getting a call from the Department of Labor."

The words had just left her lips when Bree burst in, panic-stricken.

"Ms. Pierce! It's bad! The Department of Labor just called. They received an anonymous complaint and are sending people to investigate the company this afternoon!"

Sylvie's smile became even more brazen. "Hear that, Ms. Pierce? I'm just carrying out justice on behalf of the people."

I ignored her and stared fixedly at the phone Bree handed me. On the screen was the repost list for the video, and one familiar username jumped out at me.

Elara Radcliffe. I had mentored her personally.

Just last year, she'd gotten addicted to online shopping and throwing gifts at livestreamers. As a result, she racked up 20 thousand dollars in high-interest debt. The debt collectors had even shown up at the company entrance to look for her.

Without a second thought, I had paid off the 20 thousand dollars out of my own pocket.

Back then, all I had said to her was, "All young people make mistakes. Just work hard from here on out."

Yet now, she had quietly reposted Sylvie's video and written the most soul-crushing words.

"No choice at all."

Those four words hurt me more than any cruelest curse ever could.

Sylvie noticed the sudden change in my expression and assumed I was scared. She grinned even wider, saying, "So, Ms. Pierce, have you made your decision?"

Just then, my phone started vibrating like crazy. Calls from partners and suppliers came one after another.

"Ms. Pierce, are those things online true? If your company's labor situation is unstable, we'll have to reevaluate our future partnership."

"Ms. Pierce, I'm afraid we'll have to put your payments on hold until this matter is resolved."

Overnight, my company became synonymous with "employee exploitation". My personal information, including my home address and phone number, was all dug up. Hundreds upon thousands of angry and threatening text messages flooded my phone.

Downstairs, more and more reporters and influencers gathered, holding up signs and chanting, "Boycott the evil boss! Give people back their holiday!"