OFFICE ENEMIES : I HATE YOU EDAN (Workplace Enemies Series)

CHAPTER FIVE

SIX GIRLS AND A SMIRK

Imogen’s POV

I could not get any sleep later that night. Sitting at the edge of my bed with the city lights bleeding through the blinds, rebuilding the plan until every piece was sitting clean in my head.

Thinking about the event that happened today. Edan had used my own laptop against me. He was standing at the back of that room, watching my face while the video was playing, calm as if he was reviewing a quarterly report. It is all fine, because if he wants a war, then I’m ready for him to leave a mark that people would still be talking about next week.

By six a.m the following morning, messages were already dropping on my phone as I returned them with my plan still intact. By seven a.m, the money had moved through two separate accounts so nothing was tracing directly back to me.

By eight a.m, I saw six women looking expensive and sounding louder than necessary, who already knew exactly where to be, what to wear, and what to say. They didn’t need scripts to exhibit their jobs perfectly.

The fundraising brunch was held in the glass atrium on the twentieth floor as morning lights were pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows thereby turning the white table cloths to something almost clinical.

Belvane’s people were sitting at the front row with three mid-level investors clustering around a platter of fruit no one was eating. Greg was moving between tables with the tight smile he has been reserving for days when money was supposed to walk in and stay. Half of the marketing team were lingering near the edges, pretending not to watch Edan like he was the main event.

I arrived late on purpose but not too late enough to miss the start of the event. I chose to sit at a spot near the far windows where I could see everything unfold.

Edan was already at the front with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, as the polished version of the smile that used to undo me. He was mid-sentence about platform reach and conversion rates when the first girl walked in.

She was tall, weeding a red dress with her voice like a blade cutting through the soft jazz.

“You are Edan Cross right?” She asked.

“Yes I am. How may I help you? He turned as the smile on his face was still there, but it tightened at the edges the way it always did when something unexpected entered his carefully managed frame.

“You are owing me three thousand dollars. And you said you would transfer it last week. I’m tired of waiting.” she said, loud enough for the nearest tables to hear.

Before she could conclude her statement, another girl appeared, followed by the third person.

Within thirty seconds there were six of them, arranged in a loose semicircle that blocked the clearest path toward the elevators. One was holding her phone up like she was already recording. Another was crossing her arms and looking up at him with the kind of familiarity that made people lean in.

“You told me the same thing, after the after-party. Remember? You told me that you don’t carry cash.” The second lady said.

Confusion clouded Edan’s face slowly before the sick realization that this was not random and it was not going to stop on its own.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he started, voice still measured.

“There’s no misunderstanding as far as we are concerned. You hired us, didn’t pay and we are not leaving here unless we collect our money.” The tall lady cuts in.

The room went quiet in stages as conversations were beginning to die down mid-sentence. The chairs stopped scraping.

“Is this some sort of prank?” Someone whispered and no one answered because the women did not look like they were joking.

“What is going on here?’ Greg’s voice cut across the atrium, sharper than usual.

“Ask your star. He knows exactly what this is about.” One of the girls turned toward him without missing a beat.

I noticed Edan's jaw locked as he kept looking past the women and scanning the room the way people scan for an exit when the building is already on fire. His eyes found me at the far edge of the atrium, standing near the tall windows with a glass of untouched orange juice in my hand, but I didn’t look away.

Instead, I let the corner of my mouth lift not to a full smile but a private acknowledgment that the board had shifted and he was the one standing on the wrong side of it.

His expression changed as he was able to recognize that I was the person behind it. In that exact second, across a room full of investors and executives and half the company, he knew it was me.

“Imogen,” he said, and my name sounded like a warning and a promise at the same time.

I raised my glass a fraction, as if toasting him.

“We’re not leaving until the money enters our accounts. You can do it now, or we can keep talking in front of all these nice people. The choice is yours to make.” The tall girl said, stepping closer.

From the onlookers, someone from Belvane’s team had already pulled out a phone to record. An investor near the front was looking like he was calculating the fastest polite exit. Greg’s face had changed to a darker mood. A junior staff member from the marketing department had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, already drafting the story she would tell later.

“This is a setup. I don’t know these women.” Edan held up both hands.

“Sure you don’t. That’s what they all say when the bill comes due.” One of them laughed.

I stayed where I was, quietly watching him as well as his reactions to the scenario before him. At some point, he stopped trying to explain and started calculating damage control instead.

Four years ago he had sat in a bed and told me it wasn’t that serious, but today the entire room was learning how serious a well-timed humiliation could be.

“Everyone, enough of this bullshit. Both of you, to the conference room. Now.” Greg’s voice rose above the noise, strained and final and he meant me and Edan.

Edan was still staring at me across the chaos, as the six women were still talking over each other, and phones still raised, with the careful image of the campaign cracking in real time under the glass ceiling.

Setting the glass of juice down, I walked towards the conference room first. And I could hear Edan’s footsteps behind me. Also there was the rising sound of Greg trying to contain a disaster that had already left the building and was heading for every group chat in the company.

Entering the conference room, the door closed behind us with a soft and final click. Greg looked between us like he was deciding which one of us to fire first and whether the board would let him do it before lunch.

“Can any of you please explain the situation that just happened downstairs,” he said.

Neither of us spoke for a while before Edan’s voice came first, with his eyes locked on mine.

“Imogen I’m sure you hired these ladies.” He said.

I met his stare and didn’t blink. He still has the same calmness he has been wearing since yesterday while my private video was playing for a room full of strangers.

“You don’t need to be upset, because you made the first move,” I said.