Chapter 1

On the day of my promotion review, my coworker reported me to corporate compliance.

She broke down in tears, hysterically accusing my son of sexually harassing her.

"Morgan's perverted son sent me creepy voice memos in the middle of the night and stalked my accounts!"

"I asked Morgan to rein him in, but she turned around and blamed me! She said I was trying to seduce her son just to steal her promotion!"

"With someone like her in leadership, this company is doomed! She needs to be fired right now!"

She insisted my son was the culprit.

"Archie kept saying things like 'Don't leave tonight' and 'I'm watching you'... I was terrified! I couldn't sleep all night..."

Hearing this, the coworkers sitting in on the hearing were filled with righteous indignation. They immediately chimed in, demanding severe punishment for my son.

"What a sicko! Morgan is a complete monster!"

"Letting her son harass a female coworker? That's utterly sickening!"

Yet when management ordered me to bring my son into the room to face the music, everyone froze in utter disbelief.

Because my son wasn't human at all.

"Morgan, your perverted son had the guts to harass me, so why is he too cowardly to show his face and confront me?!"

"Hiding him won't save you! I'm not letting this go! Your son has to be blacklisted, you must withdraw from the promotion race, and you will pay me two hundred thousand dollars in emotional distress damages!"

In the review room, my coworker Olivia glared at me venomously, looking as if she wanted to tear me apart limb from limb.

Tears streamed down her face, her eyes filled with wronged innocence and terror.

I stared back at Olivia coldly, repeating the exact same words I had said before.

"My son did not harass you, nor could he ever harass you. Don't even think about pinning your slander on my boy."

Before today, I never imagined Olivia and I would be at each other's throats during the promotion review.

Just last week in the break room, she had sweetly poured coffee for me, saying we were sisters on the same team and that with only one promotion slot available, we should look out for each other no matter who got it.

During our chat, she overheard me mention, "My boy Archie has recently learned to talk back to me." With a bright smile, she pried, "How old is your son? Is he in tech too?"

I casually replied, "About the same age as my project. He's been completely unruly at the office lately."

Her eyes lit up, and she gushed about what an amazing coincidence that was.

Yet the very next day, she filed a formal complaint with compliance, accusing my son, Archie, of sexually harassing her.

I was completely dumbfounded at first. Once it clicked, I tried explaining that it was impossible for my son to do such a thing.

Olivia refused to listen. She doubled down, brandishing screenshots of text messages on her phone. She claimed Archie had used my account to add her, sending late-night messages like "Don't leave tonight" and "I'm watching your window," followed by a voice memo.

No matter how I explained, she insisted my son was engaging in workplace sexual harassment.

She went so far as to demand that I forfeit my promotion, wire her two hundred thousand dollars for emotional distress, and transfer full admin permissions of the project's codebase to her. Otherwise, she threatened to call the police and get my son—along with me—kicked out of the company for good.

Knowing full well my son couldn't possibly harass Olivia, I flatly rejected her demands.

I never expected her to drag this straight before corporate compliance.

Seeing my outright refusal to admit guilt, Olivia instantly blew up.

"Impossible? Morgan, open your blind eyes and look at these screenshots!" She slammed her phone onto the conference table, swiping through page after page of chat logs. "These suggestive texts, these shared locations, this late-night voice note—they all came from your twisted son! As a young woman, receiving this garbage in the dead of night... do you have any idea how terrified I was?!"

Olivia trembled, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. "Morgan, I always looked up to you as my mentor here. How could you let your son do this to me?"

She wrapped her arms around herself, sobbing breathlessly in the middle of the review room.

And I, the mother of the supposed "perpetrator," simply watched with a stone-cold expression.

The coworkers in the gallery pointed at me, hurling insults.