Chapter 24
"See this? This was taken at a family dinner with my uncle last year!" she announced proudly.
The colleagues who had been whispering instantly fell silent.
The photo was solid proof. Their looks toward me shifted from sympathy back to contempt, as if I were the petty person who didn't know her place and was maliciously slandering a coworker.
A cold, smug smile crept back onto Amelia's lips.
I looked at that photo, laughing coldly inside.
Nice Photoshop skills, but too bad she picked the wrong source material.
The original photo was from last year's local business association dinner news coverage, with Preston standing next to the deputy mayor.
She had just clumsily photoshopped herself in and made up this ridiculous "family dinner" lie.
Pathetically stupid.
Under everyone's contemptuous gaze, instead of panicking, I walked forward, leaned in close to the photo, and let out an exaggerated gasp of admiration.
"Tessa, you're amazing! You actually have a private photo with the chairman!" My face was full of worship, then I turned to Amelia, my tone filled with innocent suggestion, "Ms. White, this photo is so precious! I remember hearing someone on the phone mention that Mrs. White has all the chairman's social media accounts and passwords, and helps him manage his personal social platforms."
Amelia's smile froze.
But I acted completely oblivious and continued enthusiastically, "How about we ask Mrs. White to cast the chairman's photo album on the big screen right now, so we can all see the original? Such a warm family dinner photo—there must be many more, right? Let us employees feel the chairman's family warmth too, it'll give us more motivation at work!"
I packaged this suggestion so righteously, full of admiration for our boss and love for the company, making it impossible to refuse.
Amelia's nails dug deep into her palms. She stared at me hard, as if her eyes could cut me into a thousand pieces.
How could she not know that photo was fake!
But my suggestion had backed her into a corner.
If she refused, it would be like publicly admitting Tessa was lying, admitting that she, as director, couldn't judge people and had been played by a fraud.
If she agreed...
Tessa's face instantly lost all color.
Her hand holding the phone began shaking violently, as if it weren't a phone but a bomb about to explode.
"Ms. White..." she whimpered like a mosquito, looking to Amelia for help.
The conference room fell deathly silent. Everyone held their breath, eyes moving back and forth between me, Amelia, and Tessa. The air seemed to freeze, and a chill called "truth" was quietly spreading.
I met Amelia's poisonous eyes, lips curving slightly, mouthing silently.
"Cast it."
Amelia's face darkened.
I had pushed her to the edge of a cliff—moving forward meant falling into an abyss, stepping back meant losing all face.
Cast it to the screen? She knew better than anyone that Preston's private photo album couldn't possibly contain any images of this fraud, Tessa.
The conference room was deathly quiet, and everyone was becoming spectators of this silent standoff.
Cold sweat had soaked through Tessa's back. Her hand holding the phone trembled like a leaf in autumn wind, her eyes looking at Amelia filled with desperate pleading.
In the end, Amelia was the first to back down.
She suddenly slammed the table with a loud bang, trying to use momentum to regain some pathetic control. "Enough!"
She shouted, but her eyes wouldn't dare look at me. Instead, she glared at Tessa, "This is a company meeting, not a family reunion! Tessa, as a senior employee, is spreading false information and disrupting the meeting—you're off this project!"
She blamed everything on Tessa's personal behavior, completely clearing herself.
Tessa looked thunderstruck, her whole body going limp, face drained of color. The surrounding colleagues immediately got the message; their looks toward her now openly filled with contempt and mockery.
Those who had once flattered and pleased her now kept their distance.
When the wall falls, everyone pushes—workplace reality has always been this cruel.
"As for you," Amelia turned to me, the hatred in her eyes almost tangible, "since the client specifically requested you, you'll be in charge of this project. I'd like to see what a newbie like you can accomplish."
Amelia dropped this line and walked out of the conference room in her heels without looking back, leaving behind a room full of awkwardness and embarrassment.
The drama ended, and I was the final winner.
Tessa packed up her things dejectedly, not daring to lift her head the whole time, practically fleeing the office amid everyone's whispers.
The next day, Amelia announced the team members for the Aurora Studio project.
The list was simple—just me and Violet Cooper.
As soon as the announcement went out, gasps filled the office.
Violet, the famous Champion of Letting Things Go in Marketing Department Two and even the whole company.
She clocked in right on time, was first to leave after work, pushed off work when she could, slacked off when she could, living by the philosophy "as long as I'm negative enough, capitalists can't exploit me."
Amelia was clearly sabotaging me.
She couldn't openly suppress me, so she stuck me with the most useless teammate, waiting to watch me get dragged down by the project alone, then come begging her in defeat.
I walked to Violet's desk. She was wearing headphones, browsing shopping sites without a care, with a hot chocolate and a bag of chips on her desk, as relaxed as if she were in her own living room.
I knocked on her desk. She slowly removed one earbud and lazily lifted her eyelids. "What?"
"I'm Luna. We're on the same team now. Looking forward to working with you." I extended a friendly signal.
She gave a flat response, her eyes staying on me for less than two seconds before returning to her computer screen, fingers clicking the mouse, clearly not taking me seriously.
I wasn't angry. Instead, I observed her.
Violet had a non-threatening face and dressed casually, but her workspace was organized neatly, with files on her desk all labeled and categorized.
This completely contradicted her lazy demeanor.
I placed a prepared project kickoff plan on her desk. "This is the preliminary proposal. Take a look first, and we can discuss if you have any thoughts."
Violet glanced at the stack of documents without moving an eyebrow. "Whatever you decide is fine. I have no opinion. Just assign me tasks when the time comes."
Really hard to communicate with.
I understood—talking principles with this type of person was useless. I had to find her real switch.
Later, I used the excuse of adding colleagues' contact info for work communication and naturally got Violet's contact information.
Her social media account was like an open personal diary.
Besides sharing some funny posts, all the remaining content was about the same person—the popular top celebrity, Clarence Fisher.
From Clarence's magazine covers to his airport photos to his new drama promos, Violet's social media was basically Clarence's personal fan page.
She wasn't just Clarence's fan, she was a die-hard fan—the kind who would stay up late voting for her idol and defending him online.
So this is where all her passion went.
Looking at my phone screen, I couldn't suppress the smile forming on my lips.
The next day, I sat down next to her with a coffee, acting casual.
Violet's computer wallpaper was a high-definition photo of Clarence.
"You like Clarence, too?" I opened with feigned delight.
At the mention of her idol, Violet's eyes lit up for the first time.
She looked at me suspiciously, as if judging whether I was deliberately trying to get close to her. "You're his fan too?"
"My friend is," I said with a smile. "She talks about him in my ear every day, saying Clarence is the most handsome male celebrity in the entire entertainment industry. She's almost got me liking him, too."