You Messed with the Wrong Woman

Everyone in my family knew me as a tattletale. I had one simple rule in life—I refused to endure even the tiniest bit of unfairness. When I was three, my uncle sneaked a slice of my apple pie. That night, I marched straight to my grandpa's bedside, burst into tears, and told him exactly what had happened. The next morning, my uncle ended up getting whacked by Grandpa with his cane, under the excuse that he had left the house without saying goodbye. By the time I was eight, I had learned that Christmas was another excellent opportunity to report suspicious behavior. When my cousin secretly stuffed all the presents into the cabinet, I immediately went to my aunt and whispered the whole story in her ear. Not only did my cousin get a serious lecture, but my aunt also searched the house from top to bottom until every hidden present had been found. After that, Dad established one very important family rule—no one was allowed to steal food in front of me, hide anything from the family, or, most importantly, give me a reason to start talking. After college, I joined my family's company without revealing who I really was. Mom held my hand, looking deeply worried. "There are all kinds of people at that company. Just sit back and watch the show. Keep a low profile. And whatever you do, keep your mouth shut. Stop running to your brother with every little complaint. Give him a few peaceful days, will you?" For the first three months, everyone at the company assumed I was a nobody they could push around. That changed when an intern named Lena Rogers joined the company. She stole my proposal, slapped her own name on it, and presented it as if she had come up with the whole thing herself. "A nobody with no connections thinks she can compete with me for a full-time position?" she sneered. "My brother is the CEO of this company!" The manager beside her immediately nodded along, practically bending over backward to please her. "Once your brother takes over the company, people like you at the bottom will all be packing their things and leaving." I remembered Mom's warning and kept my mouth firmly shut. I did not say a word. However, just because my mouth was shut did not mean my hands could not type. I immediately sent my brother a message: [Hey, your sister just said that once you take over the company, she's going to make me pack my things and leave.]