THEY CALLED ME INTO THE CONFERENCE ROOM RIGHT AFTER MARK WAS FIRED
I was still shaking from watching Mark walk out the door, his face pale, when HR motioned for me from down the hall.
The reception area felt too bright, too silent after the commotion. My stomach was churning. I walked towards them, dread settling heavy in my chest.
The cold air from the vent hit me as I stepped inside the room. The polished table gleamed under the harsh fluorescent light. “Have a seat,” the HR manager said, her tone clipped and formal.
My hands felt clammy. “This is about Mark,” the other one began, leaning forward. “We have reason to believe he wasn’t working alone.” My heart hammered against my ribs.
She pushed a paper across the table towards me. “He gave us a name,” she stated flatly. “He said you helped him get past the firewall.” My head was spinning.
“Is that true?” the other one pressed, eyes boring into mine. Just as I managed to open my mouth to speak, the door creaked open behind them.
The shadow in the hallway stretched long, and I recognized the cheap cologne.
👇 Full story continued in the comments…He shuffled in, avoiding eye contact, smelling of stale coffee and that cheap, citrusy aftershave he always used. Steve from IT. My gut twisted again, a different kind of fear now. Steve looked as pale as Mark had.
“Steve,” the HR manager said, her voice losing a fraction of its clipped formality, replaced by impatience. “We’re in a meeting.”
Steve wrung his hands. “Yeah, I, uh… I heard.” He glanced nervously at me, then back at them. “About Mark. And the firewall.”
The other HR person frowned. “We’re handling it. You can wait outside.”
“No, wait,” Steve blurted out, stepping further into the room. “I… I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” He swallowed hard. “I was listening to the recording of Mark’s exit interview after you called me about the logs.”
The two HR managers exchanged a sharp look. “Go on,” the first one said, her tone hardening again.
“He… he didn’t say,” Steve stammered, looking increasingly distressed. “He didn’t say [My Name] helped him. He said… he said [My Name] was the only person he told about it beforehand. The only one he confided in about *planning* to get past the firewall.”
The air in the room seemed to freeze. The HR managers stared at Steve, then slowly turned their gaze back to me. The first manager’s eyes narrowed. “Is that true?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “That Mark confided in you about his plan?”
My throat was dry. Knowing. I knew he was thinking about it. I’d told him it was a terrible idea. But I hadn’t reported him. Dread washed over me for a different reason now.
“He… he mentioned he was thinking about it,” I managed, my voice shaky. “I told him he was crazy. I didn’t think he’d actually do it. I didn’t help him. I didn’t know when or how he did it.”
The second HR person leaned back slightly, tapping a pen on the table. “So, you admit you knew he was planning unauthorized access, but you didn’t report it.”
My mind raced. Caught. Not for helping, but for knowing. “I… I didn’t take him seriously,” I said, the lie feeling weak and transparent. “He was always talking about pushing boundaries. I thought it was just talk.”
The first HR manager sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. She looked at Steve. “Thank you, Steve. We’ll be reviewing the recording ourselves. You can go.”
Steve nodded, visibly relieved to escape, and practically backed out of the room.
They were silent for a long moment, watching me. The accusation of actively helping Mark was gone, but the weight of my inaction, of knowing something I should have reported, settled in its place.
“We will need to investigate this further,” the first HR manager said finally, picking up the paper with my name on it, but not pushing it towards me again. “Your role in this situation, specifically your awareness of Mark’s intentions and your failure to report it, is a serious matter.”
“You are not being accused of directly assisting Mark at this time,” the other one clarified, her tone slightly less severe than before, but still cold. “However, your actions, or lack thereof, will be subject to review.”
The immediate terror of being fired for complicity receded, replaced by a gnawing anxiety. I wasn’t cleared. I was under investigation. My hands still felt clammy, but the shaking had stopped. The polished table no longer seemed to gleam; it just felt cold and hard, much like the situation I now found myself in. The meeting was over, but the consequences of Mark’s actions, and my silence, were just beginning.