Sugar sugar baby

[5] The price

The next day at the office, the air was thick with tension. No one really said much to each other as we waited for Karen to arrive. There had been rumors swirling since last night—rumors about layoffs. The talent show had come and gone, but now, it felt like the real test was beginning.

I sat at my desk, staring at my computer screen, trying to focus on anything other than the pit forming in my stomach. It wasn't hard to guess what was coming. I could see it in the way the others were sitting stiffly in their chairs, casting nervous glances toward Karen's office. We were all waiting for the hammer to drop.

At exactly 9 a.m., Karen's office door swung open, and she walked out, her heels clicking sharply on the polished floor. She was dressed in her usual immaculate, expensive outfit, her hair pulled back in that tight, severe bun she always wore. Her face was unreadable, as usual—cold, professional, and calculating. The kind of look that made you feel like you were always being judged, like she was waiting for you to fuck up.

"Everyone, can I have your attention, please?" she called out, her voice cutting through the room like a knife. We all turned to look at her, the murmur of conversation dying instantly. "I have an important announcement to make."

I could already feel the dread rising in my chest, like a lead weight sinking deeper with every word she spoke.

"As you all know," Karen began, pacing slowly in front of the room, "we recently held a company-wide talent show. It was an opportunity for you to showcase your creativity, your ability to perform under pressure, and, most importantly, your willingness to go above and beyond the call of duty."

Her eyes flicked around the room, landing briefly on each of us. When her gaze passed over me, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. She kept walking, speaking with that same icy, businesslike tone. "Now, as we move forward, it's important to recognize that Reed Estates values those who are willing to step up and show their initiative."

I could see Jason across the room, fidgeting with his pen, his jaw clenched. He knew what was coming, just like the rest of us. The ones who hadn't participated in the talent show were the ones who looked the most nervous—shifting in their seats, avoiding eye contact. They had refused to play Karen's game, and we all knew what that meant.

"Unfortunately," Karen continued, "not everyone in this company has demonstrated the kind of adaptability and commitment we're looking for." She paused dramatically, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And because of that, there will be some changes."

There it was. The other shoe finally dropped. I felt a sick twist in my gut as Karen walked back to her desk, picking up a list of names. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Effective immediately, the following individuals will no longer be with the company," Karen said, her voice as smooth as ever. She didn't look like she was about to lay off half the office—more like she was announcing the weather.

She began reading the names, one by one, each one a punch to the gut. I glanced around the room, watching as faces paled, people's expressions shifting from confusion to disbelief. These weren't just random names. They were all people who hadn't participated in the talent show.

Mark was the first name called. He had been vocal about the whole event, saying it was inappropriate and refusing to perform. His face went white as Karen said his name.

"You've been let go for," Karen glanced down at her paper, pretending to read some bullshit reason, "performance discrepancies and a failure to meet company expectations."

Mark opened his mouth to protest, but Karen cut him off with a sharp glance. "I'm afraid the decision is final. Please see HR before you leave the premises."