folder on her device. Inside were clear, high-resolution photographs of signed internal memos, printed email threads, dated text messages, guest names, and specific employee testimonies regarding ignored complaints.
Ethan felt a deep, profound wave of shame wash over him. Not because of how he had been treated that night, but because the enterprise he prided himself on building—a company whose core mission statement was rooted in respect—had forced a dedicated, hardworking woman to defend her own truth as if honesty were a liability.
“Forward everything in that folder to my personal email address,” Ethan said.
“Yes, Mr. Vance.”
“And please, stop calling me Mr. Vance tonight. My name is Ethan.”
Lupita hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Alright… Ethan.”
Robert looked as though he wanted to physically disappear into his designer suit. “I will fully cooperate with an executive compliance rev
“No, you won’t,”
