It was Mr. Lewis, a longtime employee who had just applied for $4,500 in emergency assistance for his father’s medical bills last month.

I had personally gone to the hospital to visit his father.

Now he had silently liked Tara’s video.

When Tara saw the change in my expression, the curve of her mouth deepened. She even tapped her screen on purpose, showing me the numbers climbing at a terrifying speed.

“Ms. Lee, do you still think this is just my personal request?”

As soon as she finished speaking, the front desk called through the internal line.

“Ms. Lee, the company phone is getting flooded. People are calling nonstop to curse us out. Several partners have also called to ask how we’re handling the backlash.”

Just like that, a social media firestorm against the company had been sparked by one intern and one holiday gift basket.

I looked at Tara, smug and self-satisfied in front of me, then at Greg, pretending to mediate beside her, and suddenly I felt exhausted.

Give people an inch, and they will take the whole world.

I had given them too much.

So much that they had forgotten who they were.

Overnight, negative stories about our company spread all over the internet.

The company name and my photo were plastered everywhere.

Insulting private messages and phone calls flooded my phone.

Some called me a heartless capitalist. Others said my company deserved to go bankrupt by tomorrow.

The PR manager came to me with dark circles under his eyes and handed me an emergency plan.

“Ms. Lee, we have to issue a statement immediately. We should explain the $300 gift cards and attach records from previous years. That should clear things up.”

I rubbed my temples.

At first, I had thought the same.

I asked him, “Do you think posting that now will look like an explanation, or like a guilty excuse?”

The manager froze and said nothing.

I had believed that if we put the facts out there, someone would believe us.

But I was wrong.

I refreshed the comment section under that trending video. A new anonymous comment had been pushed all the way to the top.

The commenter’s profile picture was gray, and the username was a string of gibberish.

[Stop trying to clean this up. I work at this company. What $300 gift card? I’ve never seen one. We just want one holiday gift basket so we can feel appreciated. Is that so hard?]

Under that comment, the likes were climbing visibly by the second.

Plenty of people claiming to be current employees started echoing it.

[Exactly. I can confirm it. There were never any gift cards.]

[Our boss is insanely cheap. Last year, the annual party raffle prizes were expired products from her own house.]

The lies spread like a virus.

I stared hard at that comment.

I knew this was the last straw.

If Tara had been the one to light the match, then these “current employees” who echoed her and liked her video were the ones pouring gasoline on the fire.

A flood of images flashed through my mind.

In the early days, all of us had crowded into a tiny office, eating instant noodles together.

On employees’ birthdays, I booked restaurants to celebrate with them.

When an employee had a family emergency, I led the donations and approved half a month of paid leave.

I could honestly say I had never mistreated any of them.

Yet in the end, this was what I got in return.

A collective knife in the back.

They enjoyed my goodwill, then stabbed me the moment they turned around.

So the “family atmosphere” I had worked so hard to build was nothing but a self-indulgent joke.

The PR manager was still urging me.

“Ms. Lee, if we don’t say something soon, this backlash is going to spiral completely out of control.”

I waved my hand and pushed the PR plan aside.

“No need.”

My voice was frighteningly calm.

“No clarification. Prepare a new notice.”

My assistant froze, at a complete loss. “Ms. Lee, are we really doing this? What if...”

I cut her off. “Do it.”

I stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Downstairs, I could even see several media vans parked outside.

I gave a self-mocking smile.

I had not lost to Tara.

I had lost to my own ridiculous kindness.

From today on, I, Vivian Lee, would be nothing more than a businesswoman.

I picked up my phone and called my assistant’s line.

“Notify all employees. Tomorrow morning at nine, everyone is to be in the main conference room on time. We’ll discuss the final plan for this year’s Memorial Day benefits.”

On the other end, my assistant sounded hesitant.

“Ms. Lee, are you... going to compromise?”

“No.”

I looked out the window and said each word clearly.

“This is a test.”

At eight fifty the next morning, the main conference room was already packed.

Everyone was there. For the first time in company history, not a single person was late or absent.

The air buzzed with excitement that no one could quite suppress. Whispers and laughter rose and fell across the room.

Tara and Greg sat in the front row, surrounded by colleagues as if they were celebrities.

Greg was bragging with great enthusiasm. “I told you all. Vivian only listens when people stop being nice. There’s power in numbers!”

Tara’s face was bright with unconcealed victory. She even took out her phone and started a livestream.

The title of the stream was glaring.

[Justice Will Defeat Greedy Bosses! Watch History Happen With Me!]

At exactly nine, I walked into the conference room.

Every eye in the room turned to me at once. Some were gloating, some were waiting for a show, and some looked worried.

I walked to the front. I did not open the prepared PowerPoint. I simply placed my phone on the lectern connected to the projector.

Then I faced the room and bowed deeply.

“I’m sorry.”

The room erupted.

In Tara’s livestream, the comments flooded in instantly.

[The boss apologized!]

[Gen Z did it!]

I straightened and continued.

“Because of my stubbornness, I ignored how much everyone values a sense of occasion. Because I handled this improperly, I also brought tremendous negative attention to the company.

“So here, I apologize to all of you.”

Applause began. Sparse at first, then louder and warmer.

Greg took the lead and called out, “Vivian knows how to correct a mistake. We support you!”

Several employees echoed him.

“Long live Vivian!”

Tara looked even prouder. She pointed the camera at me as if showing off a trophy.

I waited until the applause died down, then changed direction.

“Since everyone online seems so concerned about our holiday traditions, I spent all night carefully considering this year’s Memorial Day benefits. I have decided to make a major adjustment.”

Everyone held their breath.

They were waiting for me to announce a double reward.