Chapter 52 Paper Cuts & Power Plays (The Third Floor)
The third floor smelled like toner, burnt coffee, and rising panic.
For the past forty-eight hours, HR had been firing off disciplinary notices like they were running a seasonal sale:
“Failure to comply with assignment timelines.”
“Unprofessional tone in emails.”
“Insubordination.”
“Failure to meet deliverable expectations.”
All to employees who had done nothing wrong.
All mysteriously targeting the third floor.
By Wednesday morning, seven employees had been written up.
By lunch, the number hit twelve.
By mid-afternoon?
Twenty-two.
Joy’s tablet blew up with notifications like fireworks.
“Bro” Joy muttered, scrolling. “This HR inbox looks like a Black Friday brawl.”
Simone poked his head around the cubicle. “I just got written up for ‘breathing with attitude.’ I wasn’t even here yesterday!”
Joy stared. “They’re making up anatomical violations now?”
Lotus walked in with her coffee, took one look at the pile of write-up slips on her desk, and froze.
Her voice dropped.
Soft.
Calm.
Deadly.
“Who. Sent. These?”
Everyone pointed in different directions:
– Accounting
– Supplies
– Customer Experience
– Darlene’s name came up more than once
– Bernard’s signature was suspiciously everywhere
– Cynthia’s forwarded notes appeared like glitter… annoying and impossible to remove
Lotus inhaled slowly.
“This,” she said, picking up one paper like it was contaminated, “is fabricated.”
Joy read another. “This one says Tasha ‘showed violent posture.’ She was literally filing invoices.”
Tasha lifted her hands. “I just stood up!”
Simon slammed his mug down. “I’m telling you these other departments are weaponizing HR. They’re trying to make us implode.”
Lotus and Joy gathered the final stack of falsified reports, when Heather from Payroll stumbled in, flopped dramatically onto the nearest chair, and exhaled like she’d just outrun a bear.
“They tried to write me up,” she announced, hand over her heart.
Everyone turned.
“For what?” Joy asked.
Heather lifted a crumpled HR notice. “For ‘inappropriate communication.’”
“And?” Lotus pressed.
Heather shrugged nonchalantly. “And I ended up correcting their grammar instead.”
Joy blinked. “…Heather.”
“What?” Heather sat up, unimpressed. “If you’re gonna insult me, at least use a proper verb structure. I’m not getting written up by someone who doesn’t know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re.’ I did them a favor.”
Paul whispered, “Oh my God she proofread her own write-up…”
Heather waved a hand. “Honestly, I taught the HR lady how to format the template correctly. She thanked me and told me to reprint it myself.”
Joy stared. “Did she still write you up?”
“No,” Heather said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “I confused her so bad she forgot why she called me in.”
The third floor erupted in a blend of half-laughter, half-despair.
Lotus sighed. “See? They’re not even good at sabotage.”
Joy shook her head. “This building is allergic to competence.”
Still bickering about HR, Lotus and Joy made their way back to their shared office.
Operation: Paper Trail
Lotus pulled up a hidden folder labeled COMPLIANCE / SPECIAL TASKS.
Inside:
a spreadsheet, password protected.
Joy cracked it in the security system within thirty seconds.
The room fell silent.
Before either could speak, the office door swung open.
Joan marched in first—sharp bob, plaid blazer, ready to commit corporate homicide.
Paul followed, hugging a binder like it contained state secrets.
Marco glided in last, floral shirt immaculate, holding a stack of color-coded folders with a level of confidence usually reserved for saints or sinners.
“Ladies,” Joan announced, dropping a heavy binder on their desk, “we’ve got something you’ll want to see.”
Paul set down his own stack. “We’ve been collecting… things.”
Marco added, “Receipts. Literal receipts.”
Lotus and Joy exchanged a slow, dawning look.
Their missing pieces had just walked in.
Joy opened Joan’s binder first.
Inside: photos of compliance discrepancies, copies of falsified forms, vendor logs, strange approval stamps.
Paul’s notes outlined suspicious meeting times and audit red flags.
Marco had compiled time sheets, maintenance invoices, and a suspiciously detailed list of “lost” equipment that looked more intentional than accidental.
Together
It was everything Lotus and Joy had been piecing together…
plus the parts they didn’t know existed.
Joy’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh. Oh, this completes the entire case.”
Lotus nodded once. “Let’s combine everything.”
The five of them huddled together, pulling papers, timelines, emails, logs—
merging their intel with Lotus and Joy’s own investigation until the full picture snapped into place like a trap.
Joy turned back to the screen.
She clicked the forbidden spreadsheet.
Bernard from Compliance appeared in photos, meeting with a vendor banned four years ago for fraudulent billing.
Invoices forged.
Signatures mismatched.
Money moved.
Requests “lost.”
Maintenance funds rerouted.
Paul whispered, “Holy mother of audits…”
And then—
Another file.
Darlene.
The holier-than-thou, Bible-verse-posting menace from Ops.
Joy clicked.
Up popped a web of transactions tying her to Bernard’s kickbacks, fake training programs, falsified community outreach hours, and—Lord help them—
a side hustle selling company equipment on Facebook Marketplace.
Lotus let out a slow exhale.
“She’s been preaching deliverance while stealing toner.”
Joan slapped her knee. “I knew that woman was a demon in kitten heels.”
Marco made the sign of the cross. “Saint Cadeyrn forgive us, but drag them to hell.”
Joy copied everything.
Lotus started assembling timelines, documentation, proof chains.
“Marco,” Lotus said softly,
“get the printer.”
He scurried off like a loyal servant of chaos.
Three Days Later — The War Chest Complete (Third Floor)
They didn’t sleep much.
They didn’t talk about it.
They just worked.
By Wednesday afternoon, their office looked like a federal sting operation:
Wall-to-wall receipts
Red strings mapping connections
Photos, emails, logs, time stamps
A forensic audit of the entire 3rd-floor debacle
And the smoking-gun evidence tying Darlene & Bernard to a full-blown internal scam
Marco stared at the stacks.
“This isn’t a case. This is a warhead.”
Joan nodded once.
“This will blow the top floors off their ivory tower.”
Paul swallowed hard.
“Are we… actually sending this?”
Lotus clicked her pen.
“We don’t have a choice.”
Joy pulled up the email template, her hands surprisingly steady.
“This goes directly to the Chairman. No middle management. No Cynthia. No filters.”
Lotus added the attachments—over 226 files:
Reports.
Screenshots.
Financial losses.
The scam.
The cover-ups.
The negligence.
The rot.
Joy added the final line at the bottom of the email:
“For the integrity of the House of Charuzu, immediate intervention is required.”
The Send — No Turning Back Now
The subject line glowed like a threat:
SUBJECT: INTERNAL CORRUPTION FINDINGS — URGENT ACTION REQUIRED (Chairman Only)
Lotus hovered her finger above the button.
Marco held his breath.
Joan braced herself against the desk.
Paul whispered a prayer to every IT deity.
Joy met Lotus’s eyes.
“You ready?”
Lotus nodded.
“Let the empire feel this.”
Then
Marco whispered:
“Oh… they’re not ready for this smoke.”
Joan leaned over her shoulder and grinned. “Capital ‘R’ Regards. That’s how you end a war diplomatically.”
Paul raised his mug. “I like them. They weaponize courtesy.”
Marco snapped his fingers. “And the email font, classic sans serif. Elegant. Unthreatening. It says, ‘I’m polite, but I will ruin you in quarterly review.’”
Joy laughed, spinning her pen. “They should be nervous.”
Lotus stood, clipboard in hand. Calm. Focused. “Time to flip the floor.”
Marco straightened his cufflinks, lips gleaming under the fluorescent light. “Finally, something worth breaking a nail for.”
Joan smirked. “Let’s make them regret ignoring us.”
Paul raised his mug like a toast. “To chaos with structure.”
Joy grinned. “To the third floor.”
As the room’s energy buzzed around them, Lotus added the final line to the email—steady, precise, and without hesitation.
To: Mr. Wue’s Office
CC: Mr. Rei, Lotus Witnley, Joy Witnley
Subject: Immediate Review – Third Floor Operations
Dear Ms. Liang,
I hope this message finds you well.
As part of our internal audit and reintegration work, we have completed an extensive walkthrough and investigation of the third-floor division.
What we discovered reveals a deeply troubling pattern within the department’s recent operations. The staff on this floor have demonstrated exceptional skill and initiative, yet they are forced to work with virtually no resources, outdated equipment, and minimal managerial support, a condition that appears neither accidental nor incidental.
More concerning, multiple reports and firsthand accounts point to a consistent pattern of upper management claiming credit for the intellectual labor and technical achievements originating from this floor.
Additionally, we have attached evidence indicating unauthorized outsourcing of internal responsibilities, accompanied by signs of potential property theft and asset mismanagement.
To ensure full transparency, we have included all 226 compiled files, consisting of:
– Reports
– Screenshots
– Financial losses
– The documented scam
– Cover-ups
– Negligence
– And the systemic rot that has been allowed to spread
Attached, you will also find a structured report outlining:
– Maintenance deficiencies and infrastructural neglect
– Talent distribution and current workloads
– Specific technical contributions originating from this division
– Evidence of improper outsourcing and potential property theft
– A proposed update and restructure plan
We are formally requesting immediate intervention, beginning with essential resource allocation and a protected review of the individuals involved.
We believe the third floor—repeatedly dismissed and left unsupported—is, in truth, a critical strategic asset to the company’s future. Its continued neglect poses both operational and ethical risks to the House of Charuzu.
Warm regards,
Lotus Witnley
Community Reintegration Director
Joan whistled low. “That’s not an email. That’s a declaration of war with bullet points.”
Paul grinned. “And attachments.”
Marco struck a pose. “And class. Never forget class.”
Joy leaned back, smiling. “If this doesn’t wake them up, nothing will.”
Lotus hit send.
The screen blinked once, confirmation appearing at the top: Message delivered.
The room was silent for a moment,half awe, half disbelief.
Then Marco exhaled dramatically. “Finally,” he said. “Revenge, but make it administrative.”
The group laughed softly, tension breaking. Somewhere above them, the fifth floor gleamed under its polished lights, unaware that the revolution had already begun three floors below
She hit send.
Joy leaned over her shoulder, grinning. “Think that’ll get their attention?”
Lotus didn’t smile, but her eyes flickered with quiet satisfaction. “It’ll