2025-04-15 05:06:21Chapter 4
The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the room. Birds chirped relentlessly outside, their cheerful songs piercing the silence of dawn. He groaned as consciousness slowly returned, his head throbbing with a dull, persistent ache. Blinking against the intrusive light, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The bed beneath him was unfamiliar—soft, with floral sheets that smelled faintly of lavender. His stomach twisted when his gaze landed on the vanity mirror across the room, reflecting his own disheveled appearance. Stark Naked. Nicholas bolted upright, his heart hammering against his ribs. His breath hitched as the events of the previous night flickered in his memory—fragmented, unclear. Fiona’s face flashed in his mind “No, no, no…” he muttered under his breath, scrambling for his clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with his shirt buttons, his mind racing. ‘What the hell happened last night?’ He muttered to himself. He snatched his phone from the nightstand, and the time displayed made his blood run cold. — 9:47 AM. “Shit!” he cursed inwardly, his pulse beating heavily. He was really late. Dressing in record time, Nicholas barely spared a glance at the room before rushing out, his shoes barely tied. The air outside was crisp, but it did little to clear the fog in his mind. One thought dominated his panic: ‘Did I… did we…?’ He couldn’t remember. “Shit!” He cursed inwardly. He thought he must be drunk yesterday and instantly, he was mad at himself. He dashed towards the company right away. The moment he stepped into the office, he could see everyone's gaze on him. They were looking at him intensely but he shrugged it off and went his way. Nicholas ignored them, his jaw clenched. He needed to find Fiona. Her department was eerily quiet when he arrived, but Fiona was nowhere in sight. Again, the weight of dozens of stares pressed against him, their intensity suffocating. A wave of unease crawled up his spine. ‘Why is everyone looking at me like that?’ He thought to himself. Shaking it off, he decided to report the supervisor’s misconduct himself. If Fiona hadn’t done it yet, he would. But before he could take another step, a stern voice cut through the tension. “What’s your name, young man?” Nicholas turned to face a middle-aged woman—her expression unreadable, her posture rigid with authority. “Nicholas Bellingham, ma’am,” he answered politely, though his nerves were frayed. “Is there anything you want me to do for you, ma'am?” Her lips thinned. “Come with me, Mr. Bellingham. You’re being summoned by Management.” Relief flickered in his chest. ‘Good. Fiona must have reported the supervisor to the management, and they need my statement to confirm if the accusation was true.’ He assumed. Without hesitation, he followed her, his mind already rehearsing what he would say. But the moment they entered the management room, his confidence shattered at the scene before him. Fiona sat beside the supervisor, her eyes red-rimmed, her fingers knotted tightly in her lap. The air in the room was thick with tension. The supervisor’s face was unreadable, but the way Fiona avoided his gaze sent a chill down Nicholas’s spine. Something was very wrong. Nevertheless, he kept his calm and stayed behind the woman. The middle-aged woman gestured to an empty chair. “Can you take a seat, Mr. Bellingham? We have some serious questions for you and we need nothing but the truth.” Nicholas swallowed hard but complied, his eyes darting between Fiona and the supervisor. “Of course. I’ll answer whatever question you ask.” The woman folded her hands on the table, her voice icy. “A report was filed this morning regarding an incident involving Miss Fiona Collyer. We expect nothing but the truth from you.” Nicholas straightened, his mind racing. ‘Finally. They’re addressing the supervisor’s harassment.’ “Absolutely,” he said firmly. “I’ll be completely honest.” The woman’s gaze hardened. “Yesterday, we received disturbing allegations that Miss Collyer was sexually harassed. We need you to confirm—” Nicholas didn’t let her finish. With the anger coursing through his veins, he was not able to read the room. “It’s true!” he burst out, his fists clenching. “The supervisor has been harassing her! I saw it happen yesterday—he had her pinned against the desk! This isn’t the first time either!” Silence. Then chaos erupted. The supervisor slammed his hands on the table, his face purple with rage. “What the hell are you talking about? You *dare* accuse me of something I didn’t do? When did this ever happen? You must be crazy!” Nicholas’s temper flared. “Don’t play dumb! I saw you shamelessly having your way into her! Fiona was crying—she told me you’ve been threatening her!” He turned toward Fiona, desperation creeping into his voice. “Tell them the truth! Why are you just sitting there and saying nothing?” Fiona’s tear-filled eyes lifted to his, but there was no fear in them, contempt and hatred was laced in them. “Stop lying, Nicholas,” she whispered, her voice trembling, it was not that of fear but anger, “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to push the blame to the Supervisor when he hasn't done anything wrong?” Fiona blurted out, glaring at him dangerously. Nicholas froze. He was totally taken aback, he never expected this. "What are you talking about, Fiona? You should…” The middle-aged woman’s voice cut through his confusion like a blade. “Shut up! That is enough! You’re the one being accused here, Mr. Bellingham. How dare you try to lie against the supervisor? You are the accused one. You're the one who'd sexually harassed Miss Fiona Collyer, a member of this company.” The words hit him like a physical blow. His vision blurred. His lungs refused to work. “What?” he choked out. “That’s—that’s impossible!” What are you talking about? What do you mean by ‘I had harassed Fiona!’?” He stood up angrily, he was totally furious. “You guys are really joking, aren't you?” The middle aged woman rebuked him, “Will you sit down, Nicholas? We aren't done here! Here are the pictures of your mischief! The picture of you in Miss Collyer’s bed!” The woman slid a photograph across the table. Nicholas’s stomach dropped. There he was—naked in Fiona’s bed, the room a mess. His clothes, his face, the unmistakable evidence of… something he couldn’t remember. He grabbed the pictures and his eyes widened. This is truly his picture and the clothes he wore yesterday were also the same in the pictures. “Nooo….Nooo….There is a mistake somewhere!” He turned his gaze towards Fiona and shouted at the top of his voice. “Explain everything that happened to them. I really went to her house to pacify her.” “Shut up, Nicholas! When would you stop lying? All evidence is pointing towards you, and yet, you are trying to deny it!” The middle-aged woman mumbled and banged her hand on the table. “That's because I'm not the one, ma'am! I never had sex with Miss Collyer yesterday! All of these are all lies!” He kept insisting. “Then how come you are naked on Miss Collyer’s bed?” The middle-aged woman demanded. “Yesterday evening, I caught the supervisor and Fiona having sex in the office. I threatened to report them to the Management, and Fiona convinced me it wasn't intentional and that she was being forced, abused, and threatened by the supervisor. She called me on the phone and invited me to her house. Then she offered me a cup of wine, and that's everything I could remember!" He narrated properly, not leaving a single thing out of the story. “Do you have proof? The messages and calls?” the woman demanded, while she turned her gaze towards Fiona and the supervisor. “Sure!” He brought his phone and skimming through his phone, frantically searching for call logs, messages —anything to prove Fiona had contacted him. Nothing. Deleted. “What? I couldn't find any record of her calling or messaging me!” He blurted out, glancing at Fiona and the supervisor. He could see the mocking smiles on their faces. Obviously, they were all deleted by Fiona. His misfortune was really planned by them and he was taken unguided. His blood turned to ice as realization dawned. This was a setup. Fiona and the supervisor had planned this. The middle-aged woman stood, her verdict final. “Nicholas Bellingham, your employment here is terminated immediately. Your final salary will be given to Miss Collyer as compensation.” Her voice was cold, unforgiving. “We do not tolerate predators in this company. Pack your things and leave.” Nicholas’s world crumbled. He had been played. And now, he had been sacked.
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