Chapter 4

The next morning, the HR director personally called me in to inform me of the formal mediation meeting scheduled for two o'clock in the main conference room.

Attendees would include me, Mandy, our department director Mr. Warren, and two HR managers.

The HR director’s expression was grim.

"Kylie, we hope to settle this once and for all today."

"The company doesn't want to see anyone's reputation damaged, and we hope you come with a problem-solving mindset."

I heard the subtext loud and clear.

She still wanted me to "look at the bigger picture" and back down.

I nodded calmly. "I understand."

At two o'clock sharp, I stepped into the main conference room.

It was a long rectangular conference table, with Mr. Warren and the HR director sitting at the head.

I chose a seat on the left side, my fingers brushing against the phone in my pocket.

The "weapon" I had spent the night preparing was right there.

A few minutes later, Mandy walked in, flanked by two of her friends. Neither worked at our company, but HR had allowed them in under the pretense of being "witnesses."

Mandy wore polished makeup today, but her face was pale, with faint dark circles under her eyes, looking every bit the exhausted victim.

She and her friends sat directly across from me, drawing a clear line in the sand.

As soon as the meeting began, the HR director set the tone.

"We brought everyone here today hoping for open and honest communication to clear up this misunderstanding."

The moment she finished speaking, Mandy burst into tears, her shoulders shaking violently as if she couldn't utter a word.

Her friends immediately handed her tissues. One patted her back while the other spoke up in righteous indignation:

"Director, it's not that Mandy wanted to make trouble, but she was pushed into a corner!"

"Selling fakes and acting so arrogant about it—we're just here to get justice for Mandy!"

Mr. Warren frowned and tapped the table.

"Alright, let her speak for herself."

Sniffling, Mandy pulled a stack of printed A4 pages from her purse—the screenshots of her Ins post and the so-called "authentication certificate."

"Mr. Warren, Director, here is the proof."

She slid the papers to the center of the table.

"I had a professional look at it, and the bag Kylie sold me is completely fake! She scammed me out of over four thousand dollars!"

"I demand an immediate refund, a public apology to me across the company, and a formal clarification to clear my name!"

When she finished, she looked expectantly at Mr. Warren and the HR director, practically glowing with victory.

The HR director picked up the supposed "certificate," skimmed it, and passed it to Mr. Warren.

The printout was amateurish, and the "authenticator" didn't even have a legitimate institution name attached.

Yet in a he-said-she-said scenario, it was the only piece of physical "evidence" Mandy could produce—and HR and Mr. Warren were clearly inclined to accept it just to close the matter.

Mr. Warren’s gaze shifted to me, heavy with pressure.

"Kylie, you heard Mandy's demands."

"The evidence is right here. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me.

Some held pity, some held contempt, and others were just enjoying the drama.

I could feel the venomous, triumphant stares coming from Mandy and her friends.

Meeting everyone’s gaze, I stood up slowly.

I didn't bother glancing at her so-called "evidence."

I simply looked directly at Mandy.

"I stand by what I said. I did not sell a fake."

"You!" Mandy slammed her hands on the table, standing up in fury. "You still have the nerve—"

I didn't let her finish. I raised a hand, gesturing for her to settle down.

"I don't accept these printouts you provided."

"Ins posts can be edited, chat logs can be fabricated, and this so-called authenticator is completely unverified."

My voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to every corner of the room.

"Since you claim my receipts are forged, and I don't recognize your evidence..."

"Why don't we consult an absolute, authoritative third party that neither of us can deny, and settle this right now?"

The HR director, seeing a glimmer of a clean resolution, immediately asked:

"What third party?"

Mandy watched me warily.

Without another word to them, I took my phone out of my bag and placed it on the conference table.

Then, right in front of everyone, I dialed the brand’s official customer service hotline.

And pressed speakerphone.

The ringing tone echoed with razor-sharp clarity in the silent room.

Mandy’s face drained of color in an instant.

She clearly hadn't anticipated this move.

The call connected quickly, and a polished woman’s voice came through the speaker:

"Hello, thank you for calling Celine Client Services. How may I assist you today?"

In the conference room, everyone held their breath.

Looking at Mandy’s rapidly paling face, I spoke clearly into the phone, word by word:

"Hello. I need to verify the authenticity of a product. Please confirm that this call is being recorded."