Chapter 1

The new intern publicly blasted me on the company intranet.

In an anonymous tell-all post, she accused me of being a deadweight Creative Director—coasting on past glory, burning through huge budgets, and running a team that produced absolutely nothing.

What she didn’t realize was that Creative Team 1, under my lead, was notoriously known across the entire company as the "Golden Sanctuary."

We never clocked in or out. Attendance and basic compliance accounted for only thirty percent of our evaluations. The remaining seventy percent rode entirely on the final project outcomes at the end of the year.

You either delivered a game-changer, or you packed your bags and got out.

Overnight, the intranet's anonymous forum went wild.

"I always knew Creative Team 1 was sketchy. You never see them at their desks. Turns out they’re just slacking off together."

"Director Sue has been here forever. Word is she’s just coasting on old client relationships until retirement."

"I feel so bad for the new grads on her team. Wasting their prime career years like that."

Fine. If you all think I’m "deadweight," I’ll show you what real deadweight looks like.

After reading the post, I kept quiet, simply scrolling through the sea of hate comments underneath.

Our CEO, spooked by the public outcry, called me in for a chat.

The next morning, I posted an announcement directly in the department-wide Slack channel:

"Starting next Monday, Creative Team 1 will be rolling out new internal policies: Flexible working hours are canceled. We are strictly enforcing a 9-to-9 facial-recognition punch-in schedule; being late will be marked as an unexcused absence.”

“All team members must work at their assigned desks and submit a daily 3,000-word work log. Performance evaluations will now weigh attendance and daily compliance at seventy percent, with project results counting for only thirty percent."

The moment the message was sent, the hundred-person channel went dead silent. Three seconds later, notifications started blowing up at ninety-nine-plus pings per second.

The people who usually only replied with "Copy that," the ones who only lurked, and even the ones who hadn't spoken in years all lost their minds.

"Sue, I was wrong! I can handle a nine-to-five punch-in, but nine-to-nine plus a 3,000-word daily report? You're literally killing us!"

"Boss, I have a family to feed! Your old management style was an absolute blessing for creative minds. Please, take it back!"

"Seventy percent on process compliance?! How are we supposed to create anything? We'll spend all day brainstorming how to write reports!"

A few of my senior team leads even rushed directly to my office door, misery written all over their faces, practically barricading my entrance to beg me to revert the rules.

Outside my office, a crowd of furious employees was gathering by the second.

Through the frosted glass, I spotted a young, smug face—the corners of her lips curling into an uncontrollable smirk.

It was our new intern, Chloe.

A self-proclaimed princess draped in the prestige of an elite overseas university, her resume stacked with flashy awards, and an ego that reached the sky.

On her very first day, she had demanded the prime desk with the best natural sunlight.

When the office admin politely turned her down, she passive-aggressively shaded him across multiple work channels.

She even went around whispering that he only gave her a hard time because he had hit on her and been rejected.

Right now, Chloe wasn’t crowding the door with the rest of them. She stood a few feet back, elegantly holding a cup of artisan pour-over coffee, savoring the drama as if admiring a masterpiece she had personally directed.

Ignoring the wailing outside my door, I pulled up Chloe’s personnel profile.

In her headshot, she wore flawless makeup and a sweet smile, though an unmistakable glimmer of calculation hid behind her eyes.

She was the author of that anonymous post.

How was I so certain?

Because the phrasing in the post complaining that I didn't give her enough opportunities and wouldn't let her touch core projects was word-for-word identical to what she had said to my face two days ago in that tearful, victimized tone.

She thought hiding behind an anonymous handle made her bulletproof. She had no idea that to me, these petty corporate schemes looked like child's play.

I pressed the intercom and summoned my assistant inside.

"Send out an update. The new policies take effect tonight at six o'clock sharp. Everyone must submit today's daily log retroactively. If anyone falls short on the word count, tell them to figure it out."

"Also, send Chloe in."

My assistant’s face drained of color. She nodded quickly and bolted out like she was escaping a fire.

Moments later, Chloe strutted in on her high heels, gracefully slipping through the door and thoughtfully shutting it behind her.

"Director Sue, you wanted to see me?"

She fluttered her wide, innocent eyes, striking a tone that carried just the right amount of concerned empathy. "Is... everything okay out there? Everyone seems really upset."

I leaned back against my chair, watching her performance with quiet amusement.

"It's fine. Just an internal operational shake-up. Growing pains are inevitable." I pointed to the chair across from me. "Take a seat."

She sat down demurely, holding an immaculate posture.

"Chloe, you've been with the team for almost a month now. How are you settling in?"

She instantly broke into a radiant smile. "It's been amazing! I love the company culture, especially Creative Team 1. Everyone is so talented. Being able to learn from you and the senior leads is literally a dream come true."

"Is that so?" I smiled faintly. "Here I thought you felt I was just an empty suit coasting on seniority."

The smile on Chloe’s face froze for a fraction of a second before quickly snapping back into place.

"How could that be? Director Sue, you’re my absolute role model! That post... it had to be a malicious smear campaign by someone jealous!"

She spoke with righteous indignation. "Don't you worry, I'm entirely on your side!"

"Wonderful." I nodded. "Since you're so supportive of my leadership, starting today, you will personally oversee the enforcement of our new department policies."

"Every evening, you will compile everyone's daily logs and hand them to me. If someone is short on words, if the formatting is off, or if someone clocks in late or slips out early, you are to log every single infraction. It will directly dictate their compliance scores."

Chloe completely froze.

She had clearly expected to watch me get eaten alive by an angry mob, completely overwhelmed by chaos. She never imagined I’d flip the script and throw her straight into the crosshairs.

This role was a ticking time bomb.

Do it well, and she would make an enemy of the entire department.

Slack on it, and she would be in open defiance of my direct orders.

Color drained and rushed back to her face several times over. In the end, she had no choice but to grit her teeth and accept.

"Understood, Director Sue. I definitely won't let you down."

Watching her walk out of my office with that painfully strained smile, the smirk on my lips deepened.

The game had only just begun.