Rochelle shook her head.
“That is not true.”
Mateo continued anyway.
“She said if I could hold a pen, I could hold a box.”
Another worker stepped forward.
“She made Terrence clean a chemical spill without proper gloves.”
“Because he was trained for it,” Rochelle said.
“No,” the worker replied. “He wasn't.”
Another voice came from the back.
“She made us clock out and finish loading.”
A woman near the vending machine spoke.
“She told me temporary employees were disposable.”
A man near the door added:
“She called my brother stupid because English is his second language.”
Rochelle's face hardened.
“You people are exaggerating.”
Celeste turned sharply.
“You people?”
Rochelle hesitated.
“I didn't mean—”
“You did.”
The room had changed.
Workers who had spent months or years lowering their eyes were looking directly at Rochelle now.
Not because they suddenly became fearless.
Because they realized they were no longer alone.
Celeste looked at Elliot.
“How many complaints reached your office?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“I would have to review the files.”
“I already did.”
Elliot's eyes lifted.
Celeste opened her backpack.
She removed a folder.
It wasn't large.
That made it worse.
“Fifty-one complaints in twenty-six months.”
She turned a page.
“Seventeen specifically named Rochelle Dane.”
Rochelle's face went pale.
“Eight named assistant leads.”
Nolan shifted.
“Eleven described schedule retaliation.”
Avery looked down.
“Six were marked resolved without a recorded employee interview.”
Elliot stared at the folder.
Celeste looked directly at him.
“Your name is on thirty-two closure approvals.”
Elliot's shoulders dropped.
“I trusted site leadership.”
“No.”
Celeste's voice was quiet.
“You trusted clean reports.”
“I was trying to maintain stability.”
“You maintained silence.”
Nobody moved.
Rochelle wiped her eyes.
“I can apologize.”
Celeste looked at her.
“You can.”
Hope appeared briefly on Rochelle's face.
“But not as an employee of this company.”
Rochelle froze.
“Rochelle Dane, your employment with Warren Freight Systems is terminated effective immediately.”
“What?”
“For gross misconduct, discriminatory behavior, retaliation, and abuse of supervisory authority.”
Rochelle gripped the table.
“You can't fire me in front of everyone.”
Celeste's eyes hardened.
“You humiliated people in front of everyone.”
She pointed toward the door.
“You will be held accountable in front of everyone.”
Security arrived.
Rochelle began protesting.
“This is ridiculous.”
“No one told me she was the CEO.”
“I've worked here eight years.”
“You're destroying my career.”
“You don't understand what happened.”
Celeste said nothing.
Security escorted Rochelle down the hallway.
Her voice faded.
Then disappeared.
The workers remained still.
Nobody clapped.
Celeste preferred that.
Accountability was not entertainment.
It was necessary.
She turned toward Nolan and Avery.
“You two.”
They stood straighter.
“You laughed.”
Neither answered.
“You repeated her behavior.”
Silence.
“You helped create this environment.”
Avery's eyes filled.
“I was scared of her.”
Celeste nodded.
“I believe you.”
Avery looked surprised.
“But fear doesn't erase responsibility.”
Nolan stared at the floor.
“You are both suspended pending investigation.”
Avery nodded.
Nolan didn't move.
Celeste turned toward Elliot.
He already knew.
“Ms. Warren…”
“You approved thirty-two complaint closures.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You did.”
“I should have acted sooner.”
“You should have acted the first time.”
He closed his eyes.
“I understand.”
Celeste nodded.
“Elliot Frayne, your employment is terminated effective immediately.”
His face changed.
“After twelve years?”
Celeste didn't raise her voice.
“After fifty-one complaints.”
Elliot handed over his badge.
Then his company phone.
Then his tablet.
When he walked away, the breakroom became quiet again.
Celeste looked at the workers.
“No one is losing hours because you spoke today.”
Several faces remained skeptical.
“No schedule changes.”
A few heads lifted.
“No retaliatory write-ups.”
Someone exhaled.
“And nobody is going to be punished for telling the truth.”
Tanya wiped her cheek.
“What happens now?”
Celeste knew the question underneath.
Will you disappear?
Will management punish us later?
Will everything return to normal tomorrow?
Celeste answered directly.
“This facility will pause operations at noon.”
A murmur spread through the room.
“Outside investigators will arrive tomorrow.”
She opened her folder.
“Payroll records. Injury reports. Complaint logs. Shift changes. Disciplinary files. Supervisor communications. Terminations. Everything.”
Mateo looked at her.
“And our jobs?”
“You keep them.”
Henry studied her.
“And if we don't believe you?”
Celeste nodded.
“Then don't believe me yet.”
That surprised them.
“Watch what I do.”
Henry's expression changed slightly.
That answer, more than any promise, made sense to him.
Celeste looked at the stained jacket she was still wearing.
She hadn't changed.
She wanted them to remember.
“Today,” she said, “you don't have to trust me.”
She paused.
“But you do have to know this.”
Her eyes moved across the room.
“Your dignity is not a performance bonus.”
No one spoke.
Celeste picked up the temporary badge.
She looked at the name.
C. WARREN.
Then she placed it beside the bucket.
“I'll see everyone at noon.”
She walked out.
Behind her, Henry looked at the badge.
Then at the bucket.
Then at the workers.
For the first time in thirteen years, he smiled.
Only a little.
But enough.
The Numbers Were Lying
At noon, Westbridge stopped.
The sudden silence felt almost unnatural.
Forklifts parked.
Conveyor belts stopped.
Bay doors paused halfway open.
Workers gathered between towering pallet racks.
There were hundreds of them.
Some stood with crossed arms.
Some kept their hands in their pockets.
Some watched the managers.
Others watched Celeste.
She stood on a low metal platform near Dock Five.
She still wore the stained jacket.
She could have changed.
She didn't.
“My mother worked in places like this,” she began.