To HR of course

"I think we will start with the office," Elara decided. "There are only a few people in at this hour, and they will be of great use."

She placed her free hand on her hip, raised an eyebrow, and gave him a small, knowing smirk. "Very well, Richard. Let’s get going… or do you need a formal invitation?"

Richard hesitated. He really didn’t want to go anywhere with this woman. "Go where?" he asked carefully.

"I just confirmed that Susan Harrington, your company’s Chief Human Resources Officer, has arrived," Elara stated matter-of-factly.

Susan Harrington. The name clicked instantly. Richard had never liked the woman. She was cold, cruel, and bitter to almost everyone beneath her. If this was some elaborate scheme, she had cooked up to get rid of him, it was certainly creative.

He didn’t buy for a second that Elara wasn’t connected to her. This had to be one of HR’s twisted games.

"I am not one of that woman’s cronies, Richard," Elara said, as if she had read his mind.

He still wasn’t convinced. Either way, it looked like his time in this office was over. HR had apparently decided to remove him in the most bizarre way possible. Richard quickly weighed his options: he could refuse and make a scene, which would only give them more ammunition, or he could go along with it for now. Taking the path of least resistance might at least spare him the character **** and office gossip that usually came with these things.

He stood up slowly, still wary.

Richard didn’t notice the perceptive gleam in Elara’s ice-blue eyes as she watched his expression. Nor did he see the faint, satisfied smile that touched her red lips when she picked up on every sceptical thought running through his head.

The two of them walked through the quiet, dimly lit office floor, weaving between rows of empty cubicles. The only sound was the sharp click of Elara’s stiletto heels echoing across the tiled floor. Richard followed a half-step behind her, his mind still racing as he tried to make sense of the situation.

When they reached the elevator, Elara didn’t break stride. She simply pressed the call button. The doors slid open immediately with a soft chime, even though Richard knew these particular lifts in the company building usually required an access card for anything above the third floor. She stepped inside without hesitation. He followed, glancing at the panel as she selected the executive level. No card swipe. No code. The elevator simply obeyed.

The ride up was silent and uncomfortably smooth. Richard watched the floor numbers climb higher than he had any legitimate reason to be. When the doors finally opened, they stepped out into the hushed, carpeted corridor of the senior management floor.

Everything here felt different, it felt warmer lighting, wider hallways, and the faint scent of expensive air freshener. Elara moved with absolute confidence, her heels sinking quietly into the plush carpet as she led him down the hall. They stopped in front of a large, polished wooden door.

A sleek silver plaque was mounted at eye level, engraved in elegant, professional lettering:

Susan Harrington

Chief Human Resources Officer

Elara didn’t knock. She simply turned the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside as if she owned the entire floor, Richard trailed awkwardly behind her. The spacious room was exactly what he expected from the Chief Human Resources Officer: sleek modern furniture, a large desk positioned like a throne, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a commanding view of the city.

Seated behind her desk, perfectly poised in a tailored navy suit, the woman’s sharp features tightened the moment the door opened. She was an attractive woman in her early fifties with sleek, shoulder-length dark brown hair that framed her face in subtle waves. Her piercing brown eyes narrowed in immediate displeasure, and her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. Delicate pearl earrings and a silver statement necklace with a small pendant added a touch of elegance to her severe professional appearance.

She looked up, clearly expecting someone else, and her expression shifted from mild surprise to outright outrage when she saw two strangers walking in unannounced. The silver plaque on the door read: Susan Harrington.

"Excuse me?" Susan snapped, rising halfway out of her chair. "Who are you? This is a private office. You cannot just walk in here like that."

Her eyes flicked coldly to Richard and narrowed in recognition. The outrage deepened.

"Mr. Quatre," she said, her voice clipped and professional. "There are established protocols and procedures for requesting a meeting with senior leadership. Entering my office unannounced first thing in the morning, accompanied by an unidentified individual, is entirely inappropriate and against company policy. This behaviour will not be tolerated."

Susan straightened her jacket with a sharp tug, her tone turning icy and formal.

"If you have a concern or a grievance, you schedule an appointment through the correct system like every other employee. You do not ambush me in my office. Frankly, this kind of stunt only confirms the reports I've received about your attitude and lack of professionalism."

She turned her glare back to Elara, clearly expecting an explanation or an immediate apology.

Elara returned the glare with calm, ice-cold authority and spoke in a smooth, professional tone.

"Susan Harrington," she said, addressing the HR executive by name without hesitation. "You will remain silent until I say otherwise. You will not move until I say otherwise."

The change was instant and terrifying.

Susan’s mouth opened — clearly ready to snap back — but no sound came out. Her body froze mid-motion, one hand still gripping the edge of her desk. Her eyes widened in sudden panic as she realized she could not speak, could not stand up fully, and could not even shift her weight. She was completely locked in place, trapped behind her own desk like a statue.

Richard stared, his stomach dropping. He had seen Susan Harrington intimidate dozens of people over the years, but he had never seen her look like this helpless, her eyes bulging with shock and fury, yet utterly unable to do anything about it.

What the hell…?

He glanced at Elara, then back at Susan. The Head of HR, the woman who had always made his working life miserable, was now standing there frozen like a mannequin. No threats, no icy protocols, no carefully worded warnings. Just wide-eyed, impotent silence.

A cold chill ran down Richard’s spine. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t possible. Nobody, especially someone as powerful as Susan Harrington, could be shut down so completely with just a single sentence.

Elara didn’t even glance at Richard as she continued, her voice remaining perfectly calm and businesslike.

"Now then, Susan. Let’s discuss some of the grievances Mr. Quatre has against you."

She began listing them with clinical detachment, as if reading from an official report.

"Over the past several years, you have blocked every promotion and internal transfer application Mr. Quatre has submitted."

Richard felt a sharp twist in his gut. He remembered the three different times he had applied for senior analyst roles, all of them quietly rejected with no explanation.

"You have consistently given him the lowest possible performance ratings," Elara continued, "while keeping them just high enough to avoid any formal termination process."

Those 2.8s and 3.1s every year, Richard thought bitterly. Always enough to keep him employed, never enough to get him anywhere.

“After he had done the heavy lifting you removed him from every high-visibility project that could have led to real advancement."

He remembered being pulled from the Q3 transformation project at the last minute, replaced by someone younger and far less experienced.

"You assigned him the most difficult, high-pressure projects with impossible deadlines," Elara said, her tone never rising, "while ensuring he remained on every mandatory weekend rotation."

Richard’s jaw tightened. Countless Saturdays and Sundays spent alone in the office while others got time off.

"His requests for flexible hours, remote work, and even basic annual leave were repeatedly denied."

Every single time, he thought. The excuses had always sounded so reasonable on paper.

"For over 13 years, you have kept his salary increases to the legal minimum and blocked every bonus he was eligible for."

Elara paused for half a second, letting that one sink in before she continued without mercy, "You have quietly shared damaging comments with other managers about his lack of leadership potential and negative attitude,” she listed. “You encouraged vague complaints from female team members, keeping him isolated and constantly walking on eggshells."

His hands balled into fist at his sides, trembling with anger. Richard had always suspected it, but now, hearing it spelled out so plainly, his stomach twisted painfully.

"And whenever he tried to set any boundaries around his working hours," Elara finished, "you threatened him with performance improvement plans."

Tilting her head slightly, Elara’s red lips curved into a faint, cold smile. "All of these actions were deliberate, repeated, and designed to keep him trapped in his current position."

Richard stood frozen beside her, his mind reeling. The list hit harder than he expected. He had always suspected someone higher up was quietly working against him, making sure he stayed stuck. Hearing it laid out so clearly—every blocked opportunity, every denied request, every extra weekend—made his chest tighten with years of built-up frustration and exhaustion.

He had never been able to prove any of it. It had always felt like "just how things were." But now, watching Susan stand there unable to speak or move, a horrible realization was starting to sink in.

And the worst part? She could do nothing but stand there and listen

Elara finally spoke, her voice cold and commanding. “You may speak but only to answer why you did this to Richard.”

Susan drew in a sharp, ragged breath. Her frozen posture cracked as her face twisted with barely suppressed rage. The moment she was given permission, the words poured out of her like poison she could no longer contain.

“I have spent years shaping this department into a high-performing, modern workplace,” she hissed, her voice tight and venomous. “Everything I’ve done has been for the good of this company. Everything!”

She leaned forward slightly, eyes blazing with righteous fury. “Mr. Quatre was assessed when he was only twenty-five,” Susan snarled, her voice dripping with resentment. “Twenty-five! And even then, it was painfully obvious he lacked the qualities needed for anything higher,” she snarled. “He never understood hierarchy. He never showed me the proper respect. He actually thought his work and results would speak for themselves instead of grovelling at my feet like he should have!”

Like he should have. That phrase kept turning in Richard’s mind as his blood boiled.

Susan’s lips curled into a sneer as her voice rose. “men like him… they’re all the same.“ she stated with such vitriol. “They always expect the world to bend for them. They whine about long hours, about workload, about ‘fairness’ as if their pathetic little comfort matters more than actual results!”

“I kept him right where he belonged, productive, contained, and useful.” She admitted with smug satisfaction. “That is responsible leadership!” she snarled as Susan’s breathing grew heavier. The mask of professional HR executive was slipping fast. “That is what real management looks like! I made this department what it is. Me. Not him. Not any of them.”

She let out a short, bitter laugh, her eyes wild with narcissistic certainty. “My decisions have protected this organisation for over a decade,” Susan continued, her voice rising sharply. “If I had given him promotions, bonuses, or any of those ridiculous requests, the entire structure would have collapsed.”

Letting out another one of those sharp, bitter laughs, Susan’s eyes flashed with pure delusion. “Collapsed! I am the one who makes the hard calls around here. I am the one who maintains order.”

At those words her voice cracked with pure ego as she practically spat the final words. “Richard Quatre’s career? It was nothing. Just a necessary price to pay for stability, specifically my stability.”

She paused for half a second, breathing hard, before continuing with venomous certainty. “And I stand by every single decision I made. Because I am the only one in this building who actually knows what she’s doing.”

“And there we have it,” Elara said, her tone perfectly calm and professional once more. “An entitled narcissist and megalomaniac who genuinely believes she is the only person who matters in this entire building,” she explained with a shrug. “She has spent over a decade systematically crushing one man’s career simply because he refused to grovel at her feet.”

Turning her ice-blue eyes toward Richard, a faint, satisfied smile played on Elara’s red lips. “Power does tend to reveal what people truly are, doesn’t it?”

Richard ran a hand through his hair, his mind still reeling. He wasn’t naïve enough to think Susan had done this only to him. She must have crushed hundreds of people over the years. He had simply been stubborn enough to stick around this long.

“So,” Richard said, turning to Elara. He still didn’t fully understand why she had brought him to Susan’s office in the first place. “What now?”

A devious smile slowly lit up Elara’s face, her ice-blue eyes sparkling with clear excitement and amusement.

“Oh, Richard,” she purred, her voice dripping with mirth. “I’m so glad you asked.”