Chapter 3

Overnight, my company went from being everyone's dream workplace to being universally condemned online as a "sweatshop."

The company name and my photo were all dug up.

Abusive messages and harassing calls flooded my phone, making it vibrate violently on my desk.

"Cold-blooded exploiter, hope your company goes bankrupt tomorrow!"

"Trash company exploiting workers—already reported to the Labor Department!"

The PR manager, sporting heavy dark circles under his eyes, handed me an emergency PR plan.

His voice was hoarse: "Xavier, we need to make a statement now! Draft an official response immediately and get all the facts out there!"

I rubbed my aching temples and looked at him.

"If we make a statement now, in the eyes of the internet, we won't be calmly explaining—we'll be defensively justifying and showing off our wealth. It'll only trigger more outrage."

The manager froze, mouth open, unable to speak.

When emotional floods drown out reason, no amount of facts can make a ripple.

I was wrong.

I thought that treating people sincerely would always find believers.

But as I refreshed that trending video, a new anonymous comment, boosted by countless likes, rose to the top position.

The familiar tone made me almost certain this also came from inside the company.

"Stop defending them. I'm an internal employee of this company. The so-called paid vacation actually has to be exchanged for our own precious annual leave! If you don't agree, your supervisor will find fault with your work. We're all afraid to speak up!"

I stared at that comment, my head buzzing.

Not with anger—with a bone-deep exhaustion and disgust.

I could even imagine who typed those words. Maybe it was that veteran employee who'd thanked me just last week.

This comment, like a boulder, completely crushed the last shred of hope in my heart.

It used more vicious lies to poison even the company's only gesture of goodwill into conspiracy.

Below it, countless self-proclaimed "internal employees" piled on.

My mind flashed back to when the company first turned a profit and everyone celebrated at a simple gathering.

Back then, everyone's smiles were genuine.

I asked myself—in terms of benefits and compensation, I'd never shortchanged anyone who fought alongside me.

But in the end, this is what I got—betrayal from everyone.

They comfortably enjoyed my generosity while unhesitatingly stabbing me in the back for the vague promise of "cash benefits."

Turned out the team culture I'd worked so hard to build was just a joke of self-congratulation.

The PR manager was still anxiously urging me: "Xavier, if we don't speak up, our partners and investors are going to be overwhelmed with calls!"

I wearily waved my hand and pushed the plan aside.

"No need."

My voice was frighteningly calm.

"Prepare a new announcement instead."

I stood up and walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window.

Below, several media interview vans had already parked.

I laughed at myself.

I didn't lose to Dylan Sanders. I lost to my own ridiculous trust.

From today forward, I, Xavier, would only be a businessman.

Businessmen only discuss interests, not feelings.

I picked up my phone and dialed my assistant's extension.

"Notify all staff. Tomorrow morning at 9 AM sharp, everyone reports to the main conference room to discuss the final optimization plan for this year's team-building."

On the other end, my assistant's voice hesitated: "Xavier, are we... giving in to them?"

"No."

I looked at the media lying in wait outside, speaking each word deliberately: "It's time to make them personally pay for their own greed."