Chapter 12 – Enough Is Enough

Mannie’s POV

I should have known today would go wrong from the moment I walked in and saw Evan grinning like a shark near my desk. The department manager, Mr. Song, stood beside him, flipping through a folder, pretending not to hear Evan's smug little voice.

“Mannie Twain,” Mr. Song said without looking at me. “You’ll be assisting janitorial today. Floors eleven and twelve.”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

Evan stepped forward, arms folded, voice dripping with false concern. “The janitors are short-staffed, and you used to be in housekeeping, right? Just helping out the company, that’s all.”

Liar.

He wasn’t even trying to hide it. This was punishment—for rejecting him, for daring to speak up, for not falling in line like some scared, desperate woman.

I could feel the blood rush to my ears. My fists clenched at my sides.

I had to bite down my pride. Again. I had rent due. Groceries to buy. I couldn’t lose this job. Not yet.

“Fine,” I said stiffly, grabbing the gloves and the mop from the supply closet.

The women’s restroom was bad. Smelled like mildew and cheap floral soap. I scrubbed until my knees ached. Then I dragged my bucket to the twelfth floor and opened the door to the men’s restroom.

I checked twice—no shoes under the stalls, no sounds. Empty.

I knelt beside the urinal, scrubbing in silence, letting my anger fuel each swipe of the brush.

Then the door creaked open.

I stood up quickly, bumping into the mop bucket, nearly tipping it over.

And there he was.

Dominic Blackmoore.

His silver eyes widened for a moment when he saw me, then narrowed sharply.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was cold. Sharp. The same voice that made people jump.

I opened my mouth to explain—but he didn’t wait.

“Of course,” he sneered. “Is this how you get ahead now? Stalking the men’s restroom to catch a CEO off guard? Looking for a promotion on your knees?”

My heart stopped.

How dare he.

I straightened, glaring. “Excuse me?”

His eyes darkened. “You think I don’t recognize this tactic? You tried it at the bar. Now here? It’s getting pathetic.”

That was it.

I dropped the scrub brush into the bucket with a loud splash. “You think I came in here for you?” My voice cracked with anger. “Not everything is about you, Mr. Blackmoore.”

His brow furrowed.

I stepped forward. “You think I want to seduce you while holding a mop? Wearing bleach-stained gloves? I was ordered to clean this floor by your manager. But clearly, your ego is too bloated to consider that.”

He opened his mouth, but I didn’t let him speak.

“You don’t know me. You don’t know the hell I go through to keep food on the table for my kids. So unless you’re here to help clean this damn toilet, step aside.”

I pushed past him and walked out, fire raging in my chest. My hands were shaking from rage, but I didn’t cry.

I’d cried enough in my life.

Hours later, my email chimed.

From: Evan Lin

Subject: URGENT – Room 302, 7:30 PM. Do not be late.

Room 302?

I sat at my desk, staring at the screen.

That wasn’t a conference room.

It was a private suite.

Quiet. No cameras. No foot traffic.

My gut twisted. I already knew what this was.

He wasn’t going to stop unless I made him.

I grabbed my phone and pulled out the tiny pinhole camera I’d borrowed from a friend who worked in security systems. It was small enough to clip to my collar.

I turned on my phone and hit RECORD. Then I tucked it into my purse, camera facing out through a small hole I’d cut weeks ago—just in case.

If Evan wanted to play dirty, I’d record every second.

The room was dimly lit when I arrived. Evan sat in an armchair by the window, nursing a glass of wine he had no business drinking on company time.

“Took you long enough,” he said, standing.

I stayed by the door. “Why am I here?”

He walked slowly toward me, like a predator. “Because I’m giving you a second chance.”

I said nothing.

He circled me like I was prey. “You embarrassed me. You rejected me. But I’m willing to forgive that if you’re willing to… cooperate.”

“Cooperate how?”

He smiled. “You come with me to Room 302 tonight—this room, this suite. I’ll put in a good word for you. Promotions, salary bump, maybe even your own office. Think about your kids. Don’t they deserve better?”

My stomach turned.

I stayed still.

Then he added, “You’re not the first. The girl before you—Linda from marketing? Same offer. She played hard to get for weeks. Eventually, she gave in.”

I remembered Linda. She’d been sweet. Quiet. She used to sit by the vending machine, sipping tea with trembling hands.

“She quit,” I said through gritted teeth.

Evan laughed. “No. She jumped. From the parking garage. Suicide. Tragic, huh?”

I froze.

His grin widened.

“You push a woman to the edge, and you act like it’s her fault when she breaks.”

He stepped closer. “You want to end up like her?”

That was it.

I slapped him. Hard. The sound cracked across the room like lightning.

He grabbed his face, eyes wild.

“You just made a big mistake,” he hissed

He stepped forward like he might grab me.

“Touch me, and the next place you’ll be heading is prison.”

He glared at me, but didn’t move.

I turned and walked out of that room without looking back.

My heart was pounding, hands shaking, knees weak.

But I kept walking.

Straight to the top floor.

Straight to the office of Dominic Blackmoore.

He was going to listen this time.

And if he didn’t?

If he dared to protect Evan?

I’d release everything.

The footage. The audio. The suicide file.

And I’d make sure the world knew the truth about what his company let happen to women like me.

I knocked on the glass office door, my heart thudding like thunder.