It's time for the Zoom Meeting

The stairwell door creaked as Isabel slipped back onto her floor. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the shirt closed across her chest. She **** herself to move forward, barefoot on the office carpet, each step loud in her own ears.

Almost instantly, heads began to turn. Conversations stalled. Isabel kept her gaze fixed ahead, but she could feel the eyes trailing her, climbing her bare legs, lingering on the hem of the shirt that brushed just above her thighs.

“Is she barefoot?” a voice whispered behind her.

“Where’s the rest of her outfit?” another murmured, this one louder, tinged with amusement.

“She’s not wearing pants,” someone else said, not even bothering to lower their voice. “She’s in her underwear.”

Isabel’s skin burned. Her shoulders stiffened, her chin lifting, as though pretending not to hear could erase the sound of her coworkers’ voices wrapping around her like a noose.

As she passed Ryan’s cubicle, his chair was turned, waiting for her. He looked her up and down, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What happened to your jumpsuit?” His tone was casual, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper.

Isabel’s throat tightened. “Not now, Ryan. I have a meeting.”

The smirk deepened as she walked past, and though he said nothing more, she could feel his gaze stabbing into her back, feeding the office buzz that trailed her all the way to her cubicle.

She dropped into her chair and instantly realized her mistake. The hem of the shirt rode up, exposing the white cotton stretched across her hips. She heard the whispers spike.

“Oh my god, you can see her panties.”

“Are those see-through?”

“She’s really just sitting there like that? In the middle of the office?”

“Is this some kind of dare?”

Isabel shifted quickly, angling her chair and adjusting her monitor to hide what she could, but there was no hiding it from the office around her. They saw everything. They were watching.

The Zoom meeting notification flashed on her screen. No more time. She straightened, dragged the webcam up to frame only her shoulders and face, and clicked “Join.”

The grid of executives appeared. Faces sharpened into view, including Victoria’s father, his silver hair and piercing eyes impossible to miss. Isabel clutched the shirt closed beneath the desk, hiding trembling hands.

“Good morning, Isabel,” one of the executives greeted.

Her voice came out steady, betraying none of the panic crushing her ribs. She launched into her presentation, her tone crisp, her arguments precise. On the screen, the executives leaned forward, nodding, engaging with her points. She could see interest, respect even, building in their expressions.

But all around her cubicle, the whispers continued.

“She’s really trying to act normal up there.”

“Like we can’t see her sitting half-naked.”

“She’s presenting like she’s not flashing her underwear to the whole office.”

A ripple of muffled laughter rose, sharp as needles in her ears. Isabel’s cheeks flamed, her vision blurring with the threat of tears. But she didn’t break. She couldn’t. Not with the board watching, not with everything at stake.

She **** her voice to stay even, her smile confident. To the executives, she was composed, persuasive, commanding. To her coworkers, she was a spectacle.

At last, the call wound down. One of the executives leaned in. “Excellent work, Isabel. You’ve given us a lot to think about.”

Her heart leapt. She had done it. Despite the humiliation, despite every whispered word around her, she had impressed the people who mattered.

The meeting ended. Isabel sat frozen, her pulse still hammering, her ears filled with the echoes of her coworkers’ mocking whispers. Her phone vibrated on the desk, jolting her back.

She looked down. A name glowed on the screen.

Her chest tightened. Whoever it was, it was about to decide what came next.