The Boxing Champion CEO's Hidden Little Sister

3: 3

3

Calmly I pulled out a paper towel, dried the back of my hand, and looked at the smug face in the mirror.

"Whether Ms. Fox will or won't, I wouldn't know. But this much I do know: you'll never claw your way up and become somebody in this lifetime."

I turned to leave, and she blocked my path, her face twisted with anger.

Right then, the door to the next stall opened.

Cecilia James from finance stepped out. She glanced at my arm, then at Jeanette.

"Jeanette, that's enough."

Cecilia turned on the tap and washed her hands, her voice cold.

"The most important thing for a woman is her good name. You spend every day smearing people with filth like this. What's the point?"

The water rushed on.

She shook the water off her hands and turned to fix Jeanette with a stare.

"If you're really that jealous she gets driven around in a Mercedes, then go find yourself a rich man too. What are you being so bitter about in here?"

Like a mask ripped away, Jeanette's face flushed scarlet, and she shouted, "I—when did I ever envy her?!"

"Then why are you watching her every single day?" Cecilia rolled her eyes. "Nothing better to do."

Jeanette's eyes reddened again.

She bit her lip, shot me a vicious glare, and stalked off in her heels.

Cecilia clapped me on the shoulder. "Bonnie, don't mind her. The whole company knows what she's like. Any time a pretty intern shows up, she gets put through this."

Hearing that, I was a little surprised.

So Jeanette treated the company like her own arena for tearing other women down.

Lucky me. Tearing down women who love to tear down women happens to be my specialty.

I'd barely sat down at my desk when my phone buzzed.

I picked up, and an oily man's voice came through. "Heard you're pretty easy. Name your price."

I said nothing, just hung up and blocked the number.

The next second, texts started pouring in one after another.

*Bed-hopping slut, how much for a night?*

*I've got a Mercedes and a big-name sports car. Want to give it a try?*

*Cheap whore, come out and turn your tricks!*

I stared at the screen, my fingertips going cold.

Across the desk, Jeanette's eyes were full of smugness and challenge.

It was clear enough to me. I screenshotted every one of them and saved them to my cloud drive.

At the same time, a few email alerts popped up in the bottom corner of my screen.

*Miss Fox, we'll be switching the handoff for the follow-up project to Miss Jeanette Dickerson. Apologies.*

I opened the second, then the third.

The wording was identical, like it had been copied and pasted.

I leaned back in my chair and tipped my head up at the ceiling.

Those clients were ones I'd pulled off three all-nighters to close.

I'd reworked the slides a dozen times, written proposals until four in the morning, and shown up the next day pitching with dark circles under my eyes.

I gave a small laugh.

Never mind. I hadn't been counting on that commission to put food on the table anyway.

But having it taken from me like this felt like swallowing a fly.

I closed the email and opened a document to keep working on a new proposal.

Michael's call came through. I meant to hang up on it, but my thumb slipped and hit answer.

"Bonnie Fox!" His voice came crashing down on me. "You put your coworkers up to workplace bullying! Ganging up on a girl from a poor family! Are you even human?"

"Come out right now and apologize to Jeanie! Right now! This instant! Do you hear me? Bonnie Fox! Bon—"

"Michael, were you born from a toad? You're deafening."

I hung up and blocked him, one smooth move.

The screen went dark, and I flipped the phone face-down on the desk.

I'd typed two keystrokes when Manager Lambert called me into his office.

There were seven or eight cigarette butts piled in the ashtray on his desk, and the cramped space reeked of stale smoke.

He looked me up and down out of the corner of his eye and pushed a few sheets of A4 paper across the desk.

"Bonnie Fox, your recent personal conduct…"

He cleared his throat, his shifty eyes darting toward my chest while his face put on a picture of propriety.

"…has seriously damaged the company's image and the team atmosphere. After a full review, the company has decided to terminate your employment."

I froze, almost thinking I'd misheard. "On what grounds?"

"Still asking on what grounds? You know perfectly well in your own heart! Rumor or fact—" He spread his hands. "None of it matters. What matters is that the whole company's talking about it now. You staying on is good for no one."

I nearly laughed from sheer anger and asked coldly, "Terminating an employee requires Ms. Fox's approval. You don't have that authority."

Lambert leaned back, and the leather chair let out a creak.

"Bonnie Fox, filthy as you've gotten, you still think Ms. Fox would protect you?"

He added, unhurried, "I'll tell you the truth. I've already sent Ms. Fox the photos of your filthy disease."