The moms at the company post about me online, claiming the free daycare I provide for their kids is a "prison" and a vile tactic to force them to work overtime.

What they don't know is that the daycare was set up with imported equipment and staffed by internationally trained professionals. It costs nearly eight thousand dollars a month per child to operate.

The internet curses me out, calling me a show-off and disgusting capitalist. So I grit my teeth and send out a company-wide announcement.

"To support everyone's desire to handle their own childcare, the company has decided to close the free daycare program. Effective immediately, it will be replaced with a childcare benefit. Eligible mothers will receive 200 dollars a month."

As soon as the notice goes out, the moms panic. They crowd outside my office, begging me not to shut it down.

"Look, Ms. Cooper. This is the nature collage the kids made today."

Mabel Morris, the administration supervisor, had sent me a few photos. In them, a group of children was gathered around the teacher, arranging leaves and flower petals into little animal shapes.

Their faces lit up with smiles. Looking at them, I couldn't help but smile, too.

I built this company with one goal—to create a workplace where working moms could work without constantly worrying about their kids.

To make that possible, I spared no expense in building an in-house daycare in a prime office building where the rent alone cost a fortune.

The facilities used top-tier eco-friendly materials; the teachers were a professional early-education team; and a nutritionist customized the meals. The cost per child was over eight thousand dollars a month, but it was completely free for employees.

Almost every mom in the company had sent her child there. It saved them the commute and the expensive daycare fees.

For three months, the daycare received nothing but glowing praise. I thought everyone would appreciate my goodwill. Until one day, a notification popped up on my phone.

It read, "My Boss Built a Free Daycare, but I Want to Escape This Gilded Cage."

I tapped it open. The post was written by a staff member from the operations department, Keira Brown.

She wrote, "Everyone envies our company for having free daycare. They say only a female boss would understand mothers. Well, guess what? This is also the smartest trap a capitalist can set.

"She uses our children to tie us down so we have no reason to refuse overtime. Want to say your kid has no one to watch them? Sorry, the company is already watching them for you.

"So, we work 72 hours a week just like those with no families, grinding ourselves to dust. This isn't a benefit. It's exploitation disguised as motherly empathy."

At the end of the post was a photo of her from behind, working late at night. The caption read, "I don't want to be bound. I just want to be a normal mom—clock out on time and go home to cook my kid a warm meal."

The photo hadn't even been taken at my company. I laughed in disbelief.

We never forced overtime. In fact, to accommodate the moms, we enforced a strict rule—no meetings after 5:00 pm. Her claim of a 72-hour workweek was pure fiction.

Her comment about wanting to go home to her child was even more ridiculous. Her kid was at the daycare every day, eating meals that were far more nutritious and varied than what most families could provide.

The comments section, unsurprisingly, blew up.

"Damn. What a manipulative boss. She's crafty, I'll give her that."

"I knew it. No capitalist is a good person."

"Every 'benefit' they give you comes with strings attached."

"Expose her! We'll help you take this company down!"

My grip tightened around my phone, and my knuckles turned white. I told my assistant, Claire Norman, to bring Keira in. A second later, someone knocked on my office door. It was Keira.

Behind her stood a few other moms from the company, including Layla West. Last month, Layla's family had an emergency, and I personally approved two weeks of paid leave and even advanced her three months' salary.

Now, she stood behind Keira with her head lowered.

"Got a minute, Ms. Cooper?" Keira asked, lifting her chin. She sat herself down on the couch across from me without waiting to be invited. "I'm sure you've seen my post. I'm just expressing what everyone else thinks."

I looked at her coldly. "How did a company benefit somehow turn into a trap? I'm providing your child with an eight-thousand-dollar-per-month quality education, and you call that exploitation?"

Keira laughed mockingly. "Eight thousand? You're twisting the logic, Ms. Cooper. That money doesn't go into my pocket. Besides, I don't need your fancy-sounding educational philosophy. We moms…"

She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with greed. "We just want something more practical. Convert the daycare budget into cash allowances and give us the money.

"Whether we stay home with our kids or hire a nanny, that should be our choice. That is what real employee benefits are. Understand?"

What she wanted wasn't choice. She intended to turn a collective company benefit into her own personal payout.

I glanced at the women standing behind her. All of them avoided eye contact, unwilling to meet my stare. Only Layla looked up at me briefly, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak.

However, Keira immediately shot her a warning glare, and she shrank back. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

"The board approved the company benefits," I said. "There's no way they'll be changed just to satisfy your unreasonable demand."

Keira laughed as if I had told a joke. "Unreasonable? Ms. Cooper, I don't think you understand the situation."

She waved her phone at me. The screen showed the skyrocketing likes and comments on her post in real time. "This isn't just my demand anymore. This is the voice of every oppressed working mother out there."

I clenched my jaw and snapped, "You're not obligated to use the company benefit if you don't want to, nor do I have any obligation to tailor everything around you!"

Keira stood and stomped toward the door, clearly unwilling to accept it. Before leaving, she threw one last threat over her shoulder. "If you ignore public opinion, who knows how big this will blow up tomorrow."

The next day, the atmosphere at the company shifted completely. Everywhere—in the hallways, break room—the staff exchanged hushed whispers. When they saw me, they averted their eyes, trying to hide their smiles.

Keira's desk had also become the center of attention. A crowd gathered around her, praising her courage while wearing hopeful, eager expressions.

"We've got your back, Keira!"

"Yeah. Why should all that money go to those foreign teachers? We don't get a single cent."

"Go big. They can't fire all of us. The law won't allow it."

I heard every word as I passed. It turned out that they saw me as a gullible boss they could push around however they wanted.

That afternoon, Layla slipped into my office alone. Her eyes were red, and she was holding a cup of coffee. "Ms. Cooper, please don't be mad. Keira's just… getting carried away because people online keep hyping her up."

She set the coffee on my desk, sounding concerned. "Actually, no one really thinks the daycare is bad. It's just that… if that money could be converted into allowances, things might be a little… easier for everyone."

I looked at her, the very employee I had helped more times than I could count. "Really? So you support shutting down the daycare?"

Her eyes flickered with guilt, but she quickly lifted her gaze and forced a smile. "Of course, I'm on your side. I'll always remember everything you've done for me. I'm honestly just worried about you.

"The online noise is badly affecting the company. Maybe… you could compromise a little? You know, offer a small allowance first to calm the others down? Sometimes, it's better to go with the flow rather than fight it. Don't you think so?"

Layla wasn't here to support me. She was their messenger, testing my limit and using my kindness to persuade me into surrendering to their greed.

Just then, Claire burst through the door, her face ashen. "Ms. Cooper, bad news! Keira's post just got shared by several influencers with millions of followers! It's already in the top ten trending topics!"

I refreshed my social media feed, and she was right. The trending headline read, "Female Boss Runs Toxic Daycare to Exploit Mothers".

Underneath, a string of new anonymous comments appeared. The IP locations were clearly displayed—every one of them from inside our office building.

"I'm an employee. I can testify that the meals in the daycare are terrible. My kid had diarrhea last time!"

"Their so-called international curriculum is a scam. The teachers are all the boss's relatives pretending to be internationally trained professionals."

"Ever since the daycare program started, I haven't been able to take a single vacation day. I don't even dare call in sick."

I stared at the comments, my mind buzzing.

I had reviewed every item on the daycare menu with a nutritionist, down to each ingredient. Everything was organic and carefully sourced.

Meanwhile, the teaching staff had been handpicked after screening hundreds of resumes through three top recruitment agencies.

As for the claims that we were denying anyone leave, they were pure fabrication.

I could even picture who had typed these misleading comments. Perhaps it was the same mom who, just last week, had grabbed my hand to thank me for solving their childcare problems.

They happily enjoyed the top-tier benefits I provided, all while stabbing me in the back for Keira's fantasy of a cash allowance. They so readily threw me under the bus.

Layla stood before me, feigning concern. "Look, Ms. Cooper. Things are getting worse. Why don't you listen to my advice?"

I picked up the coffee she had brought and dumped it entirely into the trash. Calmly, I said, "Get out."

She stared at me, stunned. Then, her expression quickly shifted to one of false grievance. "Ms. Cooper, I… I'm just trying to help—"

"I said, get out," I repeated, not even glancing at her again.

She finally stomped away, sulking. The office regained its peace, but it was soon shattered by the incessant ringing from my phone. Calls and messages from partners, investors, and the media kept coming nonstop.

A flood of hateful DMs hit all my social accounts.

"You disgusting capitalist. I hope your company goes under tomorrow."

"I thought you were some kind of feminist role model. Turns out you just use other women as stepping stones."

"People like you don't even deserve to be mothers."

That afternoon, I locked myself in my office. Downstairs, several media vans were already parked, cameras at the ready. I let out a bitter laugh.

From today onward, I, Natasha Cooper, would just be nothing more than a businesswoman.

I picked up the internal line and called Mabel. "Notify all employees that our next meeting will be in the main conference room, 9:00 am sharp tomorrow. We'll announce the company's final decision regarding the recent controversy over daycare benefits."

Mabel sounded hesitant. "Ms. Cooper, are we really… compromising?"

"No," I said, staring out the window at the flashing cameras. "It's time they pay for their greed."

The next morning, the main conference room was packed. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation, more like a celebration than a meeting.

Keira sat in the front row, surrounded by a cluster of moms; she was clearly the center of attention. Her makeup was flawless, and she was proudly sharing her "battle strategies" with anyone who would listen.

"You can't go soft on a capitalist," she said. "As long as we stick together and make a scene, she'll definitely be scared. Trust me. Today, she'll give us what we want."

Layla sat beside her, smiling politely and nodding along every now and then.

At exactly 9:00 am, I walked into the conference room. Every pair of eyes snapped toward me instantly—some gleeful, some just watching for drama, some openly greedy.

I walked to the front, ignored the prepared slides, and slowly scanned the crowd. Then, I said, "First, I'd like to apologize to everyone."

A wave of shock rippled through the room, quickly followed by applause and cheers. Keira raised an eyebrow, looking smug. Then, she took out her phone, probably to share the good news.

I straightened my back and looked at them. "Because of my personal assumptions, I failed to fully consider the desire many working moms have to raise their kids independently. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience and misunderstandings this has caused."

The applause grew louder. Someone shouted, "We understand, Ms. Cooper! It's admirable that you can admit your mistake!"

Once the applause died down, I continued, "To fully respect everyone's choices, and in response to the strong demand for independent childcare, we had a careful discussion with the company's senior management last night and decided…"

I deliberately paused. Everyone held their breath, leaning forward, eyes shining with anticipation.

I looked at them and announced my decision. "First, effectively immediately, the company's in-house daycare will be permanently closed."

The conference room erupted into cheers. Keira and her group hugged each other in excitement. They had won!

I ignored their celebration and continued with the second announcement. "Second, to compensate everyone, the company will switch to providing childcare allowances."

The crowd quieted. They stared at me expectantly. I cleared my throat and announced the number they had never dared to dream in their wildest fantasies.

"For all eligible working mothers," I read, "each will receive a monthly childcare allowance of 200 dollars."

The room went utterly silent.

Keira's phone, poised to flaunt her victory, slipped from her hands with a loud crash, the screen shattering.

She was the first to react, jumping to her feet and shouting, "200? Are you messing with us, Natasha? What about the daycare budget? Did you pocket all that money?"

I looked at her coldly. "Budget? What budget are you talking about? The daycare has always been personally funded by me, using my own money. The company never paid for it. Now, I'm done funding it. Do you have a problem with that?"

The truth left everyone speechless. They had assumed the company had funded the daycare. They thought by making a fuss, they could turn this benefit into cash.

What they never considered was that this benefit was never theirs to claim—it was a gift I had paid for from my own pocket.

"Impossible!" Keira screamed. "You're lying! You're a greedy capitalist who's trying to take all the money for yourself!"

"Believe whatever you want," I said expressionlessly. "And one more thing—because of the recent public backlash, the company's reputation has taken a serious hit. As a result, our largest partner has just frozen all cooperation with us."

I swept my cold gaze over every pale face in the room. "The board held an emergency meeting overnight and required me to cut 30% of the company's operating costs within 24 hours to handle the potential crisis.

I took a deep breath and finished, "In other words, your layoff notices will arrive in your email inboxes by tomorrow morning. Meeting adjourned."