𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 || j. daniel atlas

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Hanson dropped his eyes to the file for half a second, then back up to meet Alena's, all playfulness gone. He didn't say anything, his jaw set, his shoulders tensed.

"No? Alright," Alena nodded. Keeping her voice calm, she reigned in the thrill that her boss' discomfort provoked. "We'll start with something that's hopefully a little bit easier for you to understand; the exploitation of your female employees." She opened one of the files and presented Hanson with several lists. "It would seem that an alarming number of complaints to HR about workplace harassment over the past year have been written off or blatantly ignored. And since you became CEO, the number of women working for this company that have been fired or have quit without leaving a reason has skyrocketed."

"And you think I have something to do with that?" Hanson asked, scoffing.

"Well, I've been reading through some of these complaints, and our HR department does have a worrying disregard for women's safety. It would seem that every single report of your misconduct has been written off without consideration. You must understand my concerns."

Hanson rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Your concern is admirable, Alena, but sorely misplaced. You shouldn't worry your pretty little mind about this. It's not your job to handle this sort of thing. Where did you even get all of this stuff?"

"Unlike yourself, I have made an effort to cultivate positive relationships with my colleagues. On top of these reports, I have testimonies from women who didn't feel that they could report for fear of being ignored." Alena closed the file and opened another. "There are also these." She placed several pictures of Hanson with women in his office, each showing both his face and a display of behaviour that would be deemed inappropriate for the workplace in any court of law.

"I..er..." Hanson struggled, clutching the pictures so tightly that the edges crumpled in his whitening fist.

"These, along with the testimonies and footage from the cameras I placed around the building, will be enough to charge you, several members of the management staff, and more than a handful of menial office workers with sexual misconduct and harassment in the workplace."

"This is bullshit," Hanson tried to laugh again, tossing down the photographs. "This has got to be a joke. You're doing all this to scare me." He wagged a finger at her. "You're funny, Alena."

"Oh, it's no joke, Mr Hanson." Alena rose slowly from her seat, walked over to the bookshelves, and lifted a tiny camera from inside a plant pot. "Smile for the NYPD," she smirked.

The man stood sharply, striding over to his bookshelves and began pushing the contents aside and onto the floor. Alena stepped back and watched Hanson turn his office upside down in search of more cameras; cameras she had taken great care to remove the day before.

The smash and clatter of plant pots, ornaments, and books was beginning to draw an audience. Through the clear sections of the office's frosted-glass doors, Alena spotted several people trying to peer in from a distance. Rose, the young woman she shared the desk outside the office with, gestured with her hand, asking if she was okay. Alena gave her a thumbs-up and a wink.

Continuing his fruitless crusade, Hanson went to the window and yanked the blinds up, down, left, right, before moving on to the sideboard, on which stood a coffee machine and some company-branded stationery. Alena didn't flinch as more items fell to the floor. Only her eyes followed Hanson, his tailored suit pulling taut over his body as he bent to rifle through draws and scour underneath furniture.

When Hanson's erratic rampage had satisfied Alena's thirst for entertainment, she said, "You won't find any hidden cameras in here. I removed them all yesterday."