MY BOSS HANDED ME THE REPORT AND MY HANDS STARTED SHAKING UNCONTROLLABLY
I was already sweating under the harsh office lights when he walked in holding the binder.
He didn’t look at me, just put it on the desk with a soft thud that echoed in the sudden silence. It felt impossibly heavy in my hands, like it contained every mistake I’d ever made, every unspoken fear. My reflection stared back from the polished surface of the binder, eyes wide and panicked, my face pale under the harsh fluorescent office lights. The whole room smelled faintly of stale coffee and something sharp, like fear or disinfectant.
“This is for you,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion I could decipher. He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and walked back into his office, the door clicking shut. “Read it thoroughly,” he called from behind the closed door, his voice muffled but clear. “And tell me what you think by end of day.” What did I think? I thought I was going to be sick, right here, right now. My stomach churned violently, threatening to spill the little breakfast I’d managed to eat.
I forced my trembling hands to reach out and open the cover. Inside, not the quarterly sales figures I expected, not the upcoming project proposal. Pages and pages of dense text, complex tables, confusing charts, and lists of names. Names I knew intimately, names of colleagues I had lunch with, friends I shared drinks with after work. This wasn’t a performance report or a financial summary. It was something else entirely, something that radiated malice and potential destruction.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage, desperate for escape but finding none. The air conditioning suddenly felt icy cold against my skin, raising goosebumps on my arms despite the room’s usual stuffiness. I scanned the pages faster, my eyes blurring with disbelief and a rising tide of nausea. It detailed private conversations, documented meetings I didn’t know about, listed alleged ‘misconduct’ attributed to specific people. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t.
But then I saw the folded paper tucked inside the back cover.
👇 Full story continued in the comments…I unfolded the paper slowly, my fingers stiff. It was a single sheet, typed, no header, no signature. Just a few lines. My eyes scanned the words, and a new kind of cold spread through me, replacing the panic with a chilling clarity.
*Subject: Internal Review Draft – Confidential*
*This report is a preliminary compilation of information gathered regarding recent irregularities. Your name has been added to the distribution list as you have direct involvement with several individuals mentioned and access to relevant operational details.*
*Your task is to review the sections concerning [specific team name or project, let’s call it ‘Project Phoenix’] thoroughly. Validate the listed participants and dates against your own records and memory. Note any discrepancies or critical information that may have been overlooked. Your input is essential for final validation before the report is finalized.*
*This process is highly sensitive and must be completed with absolute discretion. Discuss its contents or your involvement with no one. Your feedback, including any additions or corrections, is required by end of day. Failure to comply fully and accurately will be taken very seriously.*
*Proceed immediately.*
The air conditioning felt like arctic wind now. It wasn’t just about reviewing a report; I was being told to participate in building it. To potentially add bricks to the wall that could crush my colleagues. My heart wasn’t a frantic bird anymore; it was a lead weight in my chest, dragging me down. The shaking returned, worse than before, as I realized the full implications. This wasn’t a mistake, a random act of corporate absurdity. This was deliberate. My boss wasn’t just delivering bad news; he was recruiting me into the process.
I looked from the note to the report, the names leaping out at me now with terrifying significance. Dave from accounting, who always made me laugh. Sarah from marketing, my coffee buddy. Tom from IT, who helped me fix my computer just yesterday. Were these ‘irregularities’ minor procedural errors, or something far worse? The dense text offered no easy answers, only accusations veiled in corporate jargon.
My stomach settled slightly, replaced by a grim determination. I had to understand this. I had to know what I was being asked to do, and what the potential consequences were, not just for me, but for the people whose names were listed on these pages. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, a reminder of the looming deadline. My fingers, still unsteady but driven by a desperate need for control, reached for the first page of the ‘Project Phoenix’ section. The silence of the office pressed in, broken only by the frantic rhythm of my own breathing and the rustle of paper as I began to read. I had been given a weapon, and a choice, and end of day was coming fast.