The company’s cash flow had seized up. The final project payment, the one I’d promised would be on time, was going to be a month late. I called in Zoe, the girl I’d been sponsoring for years. She was my foreman’s daughter, working as an intern in my office since graduation. I chose my words carefully. “The money isn’t going to come through on schedule. It might be another month. Could you let your dad know? I don’t want him to worry.” But the next day, the crew smashed up my office. “You swore on your life!” they roared. “The project’s done, and now you’re saying you’re broke?” My eyes found Zoe. She was in tears. “All I know is the company has no money right now,” she sobbed. “You can’t pay, and I can’t lie for you. It’s a matter of my character.” 1 My office had been ransacked. I’d just gotten home from a business trip when the call came. By the time I arrived, the place was a disaster zone. The heavy desks and chairs they couldn't break were violently shoved out of place, creating a chaotic maze. Smaller things—mugs, binders, files—were shattered and strewn across the floor like confetti. Computer monitors were smashed, their screens a spiderweb of cracks, glittering under the fluorescent lights. The moment my staff saw me, it was as if their spine had snapped back into place. They all rushed toward me. “We couldn’t stop them. They beat up all three security guards.” “They smashed my computer! My data…” “A whole week of analysis, gone. Just… gone.” Before I could say a word, they emerged from my personal office. A dark, angry mass of a few dozen men, a thundercloud rolling ominously toward us. They had come straight from the construction site, still wearing their hard hats, their clothes splattered with flecks of concrete. These men had worked for me for three years. In my memory, they were always cheerful, salt-of-the-earth types. Now, their faces were grim masks of fury. Some of them even held shovels, their knuckles white. I couldn’t imagine what could have driven them to such destructive rage. A second later, one of the workers answered my unspoken question. He stomped toward me, his voice a low growl. “So you’re the one who won’t pay?” He lunged, his hand reaching for my arm, but one of my guys moved faster, tackling him to the ground. Pinned, the man still struggled, his eyes locked on mine, desperate to drag an answer out of me. His aggression ignited a fire in my own team. “You think you can touch our boss?” “Just because we haven’t hit back doesn’t mean we won’t!” The men on my side squared up, stepping forward. The two groups stood in a tense standoff, a spark away from exploding into a full-blown brawl. It was only then that the foreman, Mr. Miller, stepped forward. He took a long, noisy drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye. “Quiet!” he barked, his voice raw and powerful. The restless crew instantly fell silent. I’d barely spoken to him over the years. My only real memory of him was from a visit to his home last year—a small, worn-down house with a couple of rooms. He’d bowed his head, his gratitude overflowing. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. Thank you for sponsoring my daughter all these years. She never would’ve made it to college without you.” Now, he stood tall, the timid man from my memory completely gone. He looked down at me, his gaze cold. “You said you’d pay the second the project was finished. Well, it’s finished. And now you’re saying there’s no money.” He paused, letting the accusation hang in the air. “What is that, if not a lie?” 2 His words were a signal. The rest of the crew joined in, their voices a rising chorus of anger. “Yeah, a damn lie!” “My whole family is counting on that paycheck!” “Liar! Liar! Liar!” But I never said I wouldn’t pay. I said it would be delayed, a month at the most. In that instant, I knew exactly where the problem lay. I forced my voice to remain steady, my anger a tight knot in my stomach. “Get Zoe in here,” I told my assistant. At the mention of his daughter’s name, Miller took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes fixed on me. “Let’s keep this professional. This has nothing to do with Zoe. This is about you refusing to pay us what we’re owed.” Zoe appeared moments later, looking flustered. I held my temper in check. “What, exactly, did you tell your father?” The question was barely out of my mouth before she burst into tears. “I just told him you can’t pay right now! I can’t lie! The company accounts are empty!” My legs almost gave out from the sheer force of my frustration. This was a delicate matter that should have been handled by HR, but I’d trusted her. I thought that coming from her, the news would be easier for the crew to swallow. I had sponsored her for five years. She was the foreman’s daughter. It was the one task I thought was foolproof. And she’d managed to detonate it, twisting my message into a declaration of bankruptcy. She was still crying, and some of the workers who knew her started to comfort her. “Don’t cry, Zoe. We know you’re on our side.” I gripped the edge of a displaced desk, my knuckles white. My voice was a low, dangerous hiss. “What did I tell you, Zoe? I said it would be delayed a month at most. I said I would pay.” She sobbed, her words a messy defense. “But you can’t pay now! I can’t lie about that! It’s a matter of my character!” 3 My hand shot out, grabbing the nearest thing—a glass tumbler. CRASH! It exploded against the wall, and my frayed sanity shattered right along with it. I pointed a trembling finger at Zoe. “Your character? You want the entire company to vouch for your damn character? This was one simple thing, and you couldn’t even do that right! What did I say? And what did you say? I said the money was coming!” Zoe cried harder. “Just tell me! Which part of what I said was wrong?” “Go out there and ask! Find me one construction company that doesn’t have payment delays! I’m late by one month! One month!” A hot wave of anger surged through me. I lunged forward, my hand raised. For years, I had treated her like a little sister. I never imagined she would stab me in the back like this. Before my hand could connect, Miller caught my wrist, his eyes bulging with rage. “You dare lay a hand on my daughter?” I ripped my arm from his grasp and let out a cold, bitter laugh as I looked at the hostile crowd. “The company’s funds are tight right now, but you will be paid. One month, at the latest.” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crew. “So she’s not refusing to pay, just late by a month?” “The last company we worked for, we waited half a year for our money.” “A month? That’s not bad at all…” They were all from Zoe’s hometown. I remembered my first visit to their village three years ago. The villagers had brought me fresh fruit, and I noticed the dirt caked under the nails of the woman who handed them to me. She saw me looking and shyly wiped her hands on her clothes. “I washed them,” she’d said, embarrassed. That single, simple gesture moved me. I decided then and there to help them. The whole village was full of hardworking people with few skills beyond manual labor. I paid for their travel and housing and put them on my payroll immediately. The standard rate for a laborer in Oakridge was three hundred dollars a day. I gave them four hundred. I made sure they had cold water on hot days and hot meals delivered for lunch, personally checking the quality of the food before it was sent out. I never imagined that after all that, a two-week delay would lead them to not just question me, but to demolish my office. Even after I clarified the situation, the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. “It’s a trick,” someone muttered. “She’s planning to skip town.” 4 That single sentence was like a drop of water in a vat of hot oil. The murmuring crew erupted once more. Amid the chaos, someone turned to Zoe. “Zoe, you tell us. We trust you. Is she going to pay or not?” I looked at her, my heart sinking. Between sobs, she answered. “Uncle, the company really can’t pay right now.” A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. My own staff couldn’t take it anymore. “Zoe, tell them!” my assistant, Mia, snapped. “Has our boss ever been late with your pay before?” These men had been with me for three years. Every single time a project ended, I paid them immediately, faster than anyone else in the business. This was the very first delay, and this was how they reacted. Miller’s gaze hardened as he looked at me, and in that instant, he delivered his verdict. “Sorry, Ms. Blackwood. I’ve got hundreds of men to answer to. I can’t afford the risk.” He threw his cigarette to the ground. “Either you pay us now, or we’ll keep making trouble. We’ll camp out right here, in front of your office. Let’s see you try to do business then.” The world swam, dark spots dancing in my vision. For three years… even a dog, if you fed it every day for three years, wouldn’t bite you if you missed one meal. But these men, over a single delayed payment, were ready to tear me apart. In all of Oakridge, no one treated their crews like I did. They were doing this because I was a woman, and they thought their numbers gave them the power to bully me. I had been up all night dealing with work, skipped breakfast, and walked straight into this mess. I was swaying on my feet, but in that moment of weakness, a cold clarity washed over me. If a dog bites you, you get a new dog. Especially when it comes to laborers, who were a dime a dozen. I steadied myself, my voice clear and firm. “How much? Tell me the number.” “Four and a half million dollars.” Seeing me soften, he quickly added, “Look, it’s hundreds of us, working for over four months straight. Our families depend on this…” “Enough,” I cut him off. I took a step forward, and immediately, a wall of workers closed in around me, as if they were afraid I’d make a run for it. “I’m going to my office to make a phone call.” Only when I was inside did I see the full extent of the damage. Files were dumped on the floor, drawers had been emptied, and important documents were torn to shreds. I walked through the wreckage to my desk. Standing amidst the ruins, I picked up my phone and started making calls. “Mr. Lee, it’s Evelyn. I was wondering if you were free this afternoon…” “Catherine, it’s me. I need to ask you a favor…” “Ben, it’s Evelyn…” Twelve calls. Twelve times I had to swallow my pride, something I hadn’t done since I was a child. Through the glass wall of my office, I could see my employees, all of them looking down, unable to meet my eyes. The workers, on the other hand, stared at me like a pack of wolves, waiting to tear a piece of flesh from my bones. I transferred the money, every last cent. Then I walked out, holding my phone. “It’s all there. Check it.” 5 Miller confirmed the transfer on his phone. He looked up at me, a smirk on his face. “See? You had the money all along. Why make us go through all this trouble?” I changed the subject. “The police are on their way. Let’s calculate the damages. You’ll be paying for them.” They must have anticipated this when they started smashing things. A few of them looked angry, but no one argued. While we waited, Zoe spoke up. “Evelyn… let them go. They have another project lined up. Every second they’re here is a loss for them.” I shot a sideways glance at her. One of the workers, thinking she had a point, started to shuffle toward the door. Mia, seeing the look on my face, brought me a glass of hot water. I took a sip before speaking. “You don’t need to go back to the site.” Miller finally looked at me directly. “What’s that supposed to mean, boss?” “You’re all fired.” Flick. The sound of a lighter. Smoke curled up into the air. Through the haze, Miller’s voice was laced with contempt. “Ms. Blackwood, we’re halfway through the new project. It’s not right to fire us now.” Zoe looked at me, her voice pleading. “Evelyn, they’ve been with you for three years.” I held the warm glass in my hands and looked at her. “So have you. You’re a big girl now. Pack your things and be out of my house by tonight.” She fell silent. In the dead quiet, Miller threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, where it landed on a pile of shredded paper. A small wisp of smoke began to rise. I poured the hot water from my glass onto it. The water hissed, extinguishing the glowing ember and the threat of a fire. I looked at the man. “Get out.” 6 They left. All of them. That night, I worked frantically to hire a new crew. The extra hundred dollars a day I offered meant I found one quickly. The new foreman gave me his word there would be no trouble. By the time I finished, the sky was already turning a pale gray. The apartment was still a mess. I realized Zoe hadn’t come back to pack at all. The next morning, she was waiting for me at the office, a resignation letter in hand. She was wearing a brand-new outfit, the designer logo loud and conspicuous. My eyes fell on the handbag she was carrying. It was bright purple crocodile skin, an ostentatious piece that screamed old money, not the taste of a young woman. I recognized it. It cost close to sixty thousand dollars. In Oakridge, there was only one prominent single man old enough to appreciate a bag like that, and he was a widower who had remained single for years. All the other men in that circle had kids her age. I had sponsored her for five years, watched her grow from a timid girl into a young woman. My voice was harder than I intended when I asked, “Where did you get the bag?” She stammered, “Evelyn… that’s none of your business, is it?” None of my business? I was the one who drove her to college for her first semester. I bought gifts for her roommates so she wouldn’t feel left out. I had guided her through every major decision she’d ever made. And now, it was none of my business. My face hardened. “Where. Did. You. Get it.” Cornered, she finally broke. “My boyfriend gave it to me.” I pointed a finger at her. “He gives you a gift like this, and you have any idea what you’re expected to give him in return?” She looked at me, genuinely confused by my anger. “Return? What do I have to return? He gave it to me because he likes me.” It was never that simple. Teenagers giving each other milk tea, I could believe that was innocent. A sixty-thousand-dollar handbag? There were always strings attached. She continued, her voice gaining a defiant edge. “Evelyn, you sponsored me all this time so I could make something of myself, right? So I could make money? Well, I have. This bag, this outfit… do you have any idea how much they cost?” Was that why I sponsored her? I sponsored her because she had stood before me with tears in her eyes and said, “I have good grades. I just want a chance to learn.” Now, she was proudly showing off her new clothes, a smug look on her face. “Do you know how much this dress costs? It’s more than I would have made in years working for you.” I grabbed the cup of coffee off my desk and, without a word, poured it over her head. The hot liquid streamed down her face, dripping onto her expensive dress. It wasn’t enough. I snatched a pen from my desk, grabbed the purple bag from her, and started scribbling furiously all over the exotic leather. “What are you doing?” she shrieked, trying to wrestle it away from me. Black ink smeared across her arms, but she ignored the stains on her skin, frantically trying to wipe the marks off the bag. “What is wrong with you?” I ignored her, threw the ruined pen on the floor, and walked back to my desk. I took out my checkbook and wrote out a check. My head was throbbing. I pressed my fingers to my temple and held up the check. She immediately fell silent. The sharp click of her heels on the floor echoed in the quiet office. My hand was suddenly empty. She had snatched the check and placed the ruined handbag on my desk. “Evelyn,” she said, her voice laced with a bitter triumph, “you must really look down on me right now, don’t you?” I kept my head in my hands, saying nothing. “Everyone has different goals in life,” she continued. “I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.” She didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. “Zoe,” I called out as she turned to leave. I pushed myself up and walked toward her. A storm of anger had been brewing inside me since the moment I saw my trashed office. I raised my hand. CRACK. The sound of my palm striking her cheek echoed through the office. She clutched her face, the door wide open. No one dared to look our way. Everyone knew how much I had valued Zoe, how I had personally mentored her, desperate for her to learn the ropes and stand on her own two feet. I couldn’t understand how she had become this person. Zoe held her cheek, a cold smile spreading across her lips. “Evelyn, every penny you ever gave me, I will wire it back to your account. This isn’t over. You just wait.” She walked out, head held high. Mia peeked her head around the corner. “Boss? Are you okay?” I dragged myself back to my desk. The defaced purple handbag sat there, a monument to my failure. I reached out, picked it up, and hurled it into the trash can. As it hit the bottom with a dull thud, the world went black, and I collapsed. 7 When I opened my eyes, Mia was sitting by my hospital bed. She looked like she was bursting to say something. “Spit it out,” I said. She was young and impulsive. Someone else in the room tried to shush her, but it was too late. The words tumbled out. “The new crew got into a fight with Mr. Miller’s crew.” A nurse came in to check on me. “Let’s not talk about work right now,” she said kindly, changing my IV bag. “You need to rest. Eat on time, sleep on time. All these late nights will catch up to you when you’re older.” I nodded obediently. As soon as she left, I turned back to Mia. “The reason.” The others in the room tried to signal her to stop. “Boss, you need to rest. It’s a small thing.” But this was why I’d hired her. She was smart, bold, and fresh out of college, unafraid to say what needed to be said. She pressed her lips together, trying to hold it in, but failed. “Our water truck was on its way to the new site, and it had to pass by the place where Miller’s crew is working now. They blocked the road and ambushed it. The driver was scared, so he stopped, and they just… stole all the water. The whole shipment. Our new foreman took some guys to get it back, and they beat them up. Our guys have to work this afternoon, so they just bought some antiseptic and went straight to the site. The new foreman said it’s not a big deal and he didn’t want to bother you, but it is! That was thousands of dollars worth of water!” She was talking a mile a minute, her voice thick with righteous anger. I understood. Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door. It swung open before I could answer. “Ms. Blackwood! We came to see you!” It was a few of the old workers, carrying a fruit basket. Miller was with them. I would have welcomed a visit, but the moment he sat down, his words dripped with sarcasm. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. Thank you so much.” His voice was full of mock gratitude. “Thank you for letting us go. We’re making eight hundred a day now! You have no idea how happy the guys are.” He was practically beaming. “The new boss, he’s a young guy. Generous, open-handed. Not a penny-pincher like you. We’re building a villa for him. A real villa!” His men snickered. Miller continued, “And since leaving you, my Zoe’s found herself a wonderful boyfriend. We’ve all landed on our feet. We really have you to thank for all this.” His words were laced with poison, but I ignored them. After the laughter died down, the worker who had first tried to grab me in the office spoke up, his tone suddenly serious. “Now that we’ve had our fun, let’s talk business.” All eyes turned to him. He stared at me. “We worked for you for three years. Turns out, the real rate for this work is eight hundred a day. You were paying us half. We can’t even imagine how much you pocketed.” He paused, then delivered the real punchline. “We’re here to get paid.” My staff exploded. “Get paid? For what?” “Go ask around! See what the real rate is! We gave you everything, paid time off for bad weather… we were practically a charity!” “A couple of days building a villa has fried your brain!” Miller ignored them, flicking ash from his cigarette. His face was a grim mask. “We’re here to get paid. You owe us for the three years of work you shorted us. You pay us the difference, and we walk away.” “Eight hundred a day,” he repeated, his voice low and menacing. “You do the math. We’ll wait.”
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