They Made Me Kneel Now Theyll Bow
Ava, she slurred, her voice thick with what sounded like wine and entitlement. The thermostat in the rendering. Its set to 24 degrees Celsius. The numerology is all wrong. Bad energy. Make it 26.
For a second, my sleep-fogged brain struggled to connect. Then it clicked. The full-home design commission.
I forced my eyes open, the grit in them almost audible. Of course, Mrs. Wallace. Ill make that change first thing in the morning.
Ten minutes later, a FaceTime request lit up the room. I let it ring. It stopped, then immediately started again. I sighed and accepted. Her face, slick with some expensive night cream, filled the screen.
The entryway, she commanded, pointing a manicured finger somewhere off-screen. The shoes you placed by the door. I would never wear those. Fix it.
I mumbled an incoherent agreement.
A few minutes passed. Another FaceTime call.
The windowsill, she snapped. The planter is white. My husband prefers blue. A cobalt blue. And the pattern on it needs to be symmetrical.
I fought the primal urge to hang up. Mrs. Wallace, I said, my voice strained with forced patience, these are just placeholder details for the initial rendering. Youll be able to arrange the decor however you like once the renovation is complete.
I thought that was the end of it. I was wrong.
Just as I was drifting back to sleep, a sound ripped through the quiet of my apartment. BAM. BAM. BAM. Someone was pounding on my door.
1
All traces of sleep vanished, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. I crept out of bed and peered through the peephole. My blood ran cold. It was her. Sharon Wallace.
I unlatched the door, and before I could even process the shock, she was towering over me, radiating fury.
From 2:00 AM to 4:43 AM, I initiated 132 video calls. Why didnt you answer?
The sheer audacity of the question left me speechless.
Dont you dare use I was sleeping as an excuse, she sneered. Your job is to be on call. 24/7.
I glanced at my phone. The call log was a solid, unrelenting block of her name. A hundred and thirty-two calls. Then driving across the city to hammer on my door. The dam of my professionalism broke.
I am not obligated to answer your calls in the middle of the night, Mrs. Wallace. That is my personal time.
Her face contorted. Personal time? she screeched. The client isnt resting, so what gives you the right to rest? She pushed past me into my apartment. Now, open your laptop and make these changes exactly as I say.
She began rattling off a list.
One, the desk mouse is wired. I use a wireless mouse. Change it. Two, turn off that accent lighting in the living room. Are you trying to run up my electricity bill? Three, the fruit bowl on the coffee table. Pears? Pears are for farewells. Are you trying to jinx my marriage? Change them to pomegranates. For abundance. She finally paused, glaring at me. You have ten minutes. Send it to me for review.
That was it. I was done.
You are my client, I said, my voice dangerously low. You do not have the right to give me orders, and you certainly do not have the right to show up at my home and pound on my door.
In all my years working my way up in my familys business, Id seen my share of difficult clients. But this level of aggressive, unhinged entitlement was new.
Are you leaving now, or should I wait for the police to escort you out? I raised my phone, my thumb hovering over the 9-1-1 shortcut.
She let out a string of curses and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
I thought the harassment would end there.
The next day, I went into the office early to revise her files. The moment I opened the design software, a video call came through from her.
Well, look whos alive, she chirped. I told you to make those changes at five this morning. What have you been doing?
Before I could answer, she cut me off. Im going to watch you work. Go on. Faster!
I clenched my jaw. I am the daughter of the CEO of this entire corporation. The only reason I was here, hiding my identity and taking this abuse, was to understand the company from the ground up.
On my screen, Sharon Wallace was lounging on a plush sofa, a green mask on her face, pointing at the design.
The plant in the living room. The third leaf from the top has a spot on it. Get rid of it.
I said nothing, but my internal monologue was a stream of pure venom.
And white flowers in the entryway? Are you trying to curse me? Change them to roses!
I took a deep breath and swapped the lilies for roses.
Then we got to the master bedroom. Her eyes narrowed. She pointed a trembling finger at the pillows on the king-sized bed.
You bitch, Ava! she screamed. You want my husband and me to break up so you can crawl into his bed, dont you!
My patience snapped. And what evidence do you have for that insane accusation?
Evidence? The pillows! Theyre green, and theyre so far apart! What kind of sick game are you playing? I see right through you!
I slammed my mouse down on the desk. My sick game? Youre the one who requested a sage green linen set! Youre the one who said a wider spacing on the pillows looked more aesthetically pleasing for a California king! Have you lost your mind, Sharon?
I ended the call and silenced my phone. The world was finally, blessedly quiet.
The quiet lasted less than five minutes. My supervisor, Mr. Davies, burst into the office, his face a thundercloud. He marched straight to my desk.
Ava, who the hell gave you the nerve to upset Mrs. Wallace? he boomed. You will call her, on video, and apologize immediately. Or you can pack your things and get out.
Apologize? I hadn't done anything wrong.
I suppressed my rage, pulled up the security footage from my apartment buildings hallway, and showed him the log of 132 missed calls.
Sharon Wallace harassed me all night, and when I didnt answer, she showed up at my apartment and tried to break down my door, I explained calmly. Just now, she accused me of trying to sleep with her husband. If anyone should be apologizing, its her.
Smack. Davies slapped his hand on my desk, the veins in his forehead bulging. If you want to keep your job, you will apologize. Now. Otherwise, youre fired. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a hiss. And your final paycheck? That five thousand dollars goes straight to Mrs. Wallace as compensation for your attitude.
Every word was a command. I felt my composure cracking.
I looked him dead in the eye. Dream on.
A cold, ugly smile spread across his face. Youre forcing my hand, Ava. He turned and raised his voice to address the entire office. Listen up, everyone! Since Ava refuses to take responsibility for her actions, the whole department will pay the price! For every hour she refuses to apologize, five hundred dollars will be deducted from each of your paychecks!
The room erupted in groans and angry murmurs.
Just say youre sorry, Ava, someone whined. Its not a big deal. Dont make us all suffer for it.
Greg, from two desks over, shot to his feet. You want to be a martyr? Fine. But dont drag us down with you. Some of us have mortgages to pay!
Then Quinn, who sat next to me, the one Id always considered a friend, stood up. Guys, dont be too hard on Ava, she said in a placating tone. She just only ever thinks about herself. She looked at me with pity. Shes not trying to get us all fined. Shes just petty like that.
Her words were a slap in the face. I laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. Quinn, if I recall correctly, you only got this job because my family pulled some strings, didn't you? Her face went pale. I have the power to get you in here, and I have the power to get you thrown out.
She sank back into her chair, her head bowed.
I looked around at the faces of my colleagues, the people Id covered shifts for, helped with deadlines, brought coffee for. The people now glaring at me as if I were the enemy. My heart turned to ice.
In front of everyone, I ripped my employee ID from its lanyard and tossed it on the desk.
If the choice was between screwing over my colleagues and screwing over myself, Id rather go back to corporate headquarters. Back to the position my father had waiting for me.
I quit.
Davies strode over, a smug look on his face. Ava, Ava, Ava, he said, his voice dripping with condescension. A girl like you, with no connections, no special talent. Whos going to hire you after you leave us? This firm has been good to you. Out there? You wont even be able to afford rent.
I had lost all patience. I turned and walked toward the door. Let someone else have this godforsaken job.
Just as my hand touched the handle, my phone rang. It was the corporate Compliance Department.
Ms. Scott? a stern voice said. Per the request of your client, Mrs. Sharon Wallace, you are required to complete her design draft as specified. Failure to do so will result in a breach of contract, and you will be liable for a penalty of two hundred thousand dollars.
I laughed in disbelief. Shes the one making baseless demands, and youre siding with her without even investigating? It seemed the entire department needed a complete overhaul.
I was about to hang up when the voice on the other end added, And given your history of insubordination, this penalty will be passed to your official mentor to be paid out of his medical leave fund.
My blood ran cold. William.
This has nothing to do with him!
William was the only person in this entire office who had been genuinely kind to me. He was in the hospital, recovering from a sudden illness. He didn't have family money; he had a wife and two kids. Without that fund, hed be ruined. I couldn't let a good man suffer because of me.
I swallowed my pride and my rage. Fine, I bit out. Ill finish the project before I resign.
The person on the other end chuckled. Wise choice.
They had no idea what I was really thinking. A department this corrupt didnt need an overhaul. It needed to be dismantled, and every single person in it needed to be fired for gross negligence.
I walked back to my desk.
Davies smirked when he saw me. Changed your mind? I told you. Someone like you could never survive without this company. He then placed a small, white device on the corner of my deska pet monitoring camera.
Before I could ask, a shrill, tinny voice erupted from its speaker.
Ava! What are you waiting for? Get back to work!
My phone pinged. An email from Sharon. I opened it. It was a 20-page document titled Working Protocol.
I scanned the list, each rule more insane than the last.
If your hand leaves the mouse for more than three seconds during work hours, this months performance bonus is forfeited.
Bathroom breaks may not exceed three minutes. Any longer will be considered an unauthorized absence.
All messages from me must be answered within 20 seconds, including nights, weekends, and holidays.
When communicating with me, you must address me as Mrs. Wallace.
The final rule, on page twenty, was the kicker.
If any of the above protocols are violated, you must kneel on the floor and continue your work until I am satisfied.
What fresh hell is this? I rolled my eyes and deleted the file.
Trying my best to ignore the camera spying on me, I quickly finished a new version of the design and sent it to Sharon.
A few seconds later, her voice shrieked from the camera. Ava! You did not address me as Mrs. Wallace in your email! The command followed instantly. Kneel! Now! And state the reason for your violation!
Her voice was so loud that the entire office turned to stare.
Davies rushed over and put a heavy hand on my shoulder, his face beaded with sweat. Just do it, Ava! Are you trying to get us all fined again?
Sharons voice, dripping with smug satisfaction, floated from the speaker. Let me tell you something, sweetheart. In here, I am the law. And when you break the law, you get punished. The threat was clear. Ill count to three. If youre not on your knees, your entire company will be kneeling with you.
She laughed, a low, cruel sound. What else is a bottom-feeder like you good for, anyway? Your only purpose is to kneel and keep me happy.
That was it. I couldn't take another second. Helping my father, learning the businessnone of it was worth this level of degradation. But if I didn't kneel, all these innocentwell, mostly innocentpeople would be dragged down with me.
Three two
I snatched the heavy ceramic mug from my desk. With a roar of pure frustration, I hurled it at the camera. It shattered on impact.
Kneel for my ancestors! I screamed, my voice raw. Who the hell do you think you are to command me? Fuck your rules! Ive had it with you, you entitled, sadistic bitch! Get the hell out of my life!
I yanked the cameras cord from the wall and threw the useless plastic on the floor.
The office was dead silent.
Daviess face was a mottled purple. Ava, he hissed, do you have any idea who you just insulted? That is the fiance of the richest man in this citys son!
An older employee, who had been quiet until now, stood up and pointed a trembling finger at me. Youre insane, Ava! Dont you know Mrs. Wallace could have us all blacklisted from the industry with a single phone call? Youve ruined us! All of us!
Quinn jumped to her feet, her face twisted in rage. You troublemaker! The future daughter-in-law of Robert Sinclair! Are you happy now that youve dragged us all into your mess? She swung her arm, aiming to slap me across the face.
I caught her wrist in a vice grip and twisted. She cried out in pain.
The son of the citys wealthiest man, I said, my voice eerily calm. You mean Leo Sinclair?
Davies froze, then let out a derisive snort. So, now you realize who youve crossed?
I nodded slowly and pulled out my phone, opening my photo gallery to a recent family picture. In it, my brother had his arm slung casually around my shoulders. Standing behind us, beaming, was the man they all feared: Robert Sinclair.
Let me properly introduce myself, I said, turning the screen for them to see. My name is Ava Sinclair. And Leo? Hes my idiot younger brother.
The office was silent for a full thirty seconds. Then, it erupted in laughter.
Keep lying, Davies choked out, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. I could photoshop something more convincing than that. He clapped me on the shoulder. Alright, Ms. Sinclair. If Robert Sinclair is your father, call him right now. If he shows up, well all apologize to you. On our knees. Well even slap ourselves ten times each.
I smiled grimly and dialed my father.
Dad, its me
CRASH! The office door flew open, kicked in with tremendous force.
My phone was snatched from my hand and smashed against the floor. Sharon Wallace stood there, flanked by two burly men who looked like hired thugs.
You worthless piece of trash! she shrieked, her face a mask of fury. I gave you the honor of kneeling for me, and you dare to curse me? She lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. I was forced to look at her two goons.
She broke the rules, and she defied me, Sharon said to them. Tell me, what do we do with lowlife scum like this?
She needs to be taught a lesson, Mrs. Wallace! they chanted in unison.
I tried to break free, but one of them kicked the back of my knee, sending me crashing to the floor. The other pinned my arms behind my back. My kneecaps hit the hard floor with a sickening thud. I struggled, but their grip was like iron.
Davies scurried to offer Sharon a chair. She sat, crossing her legs, looking down at me like a queen surveying a particularly disgusting insect. She extended one leg, the razor-sharp heel of her stiletto pressing into the back of my head.
Ava, since you cant seem to learn the rules, I guess Ill have to teach them to you myself.
At her nod, one goon twisted my arm while the other tightened his grip on my hair. A bolt of agony shot through me, and my body went limp, pitching forward.
Thump.
My forehead hit the tile. The world exploded in a flash of black and white.
Again, Sharons vicious voice cut through the ringing in my ears. Until Im satisfied.
She pressed her heel down, grinding it into the floor, my head trapped beneath it. The pain was so intense I thought I would pass out.
Thump.
Whats wrong, Ava? she taunted. Wheres all that fight? Wheres that backbone? Look at you now, kneeling like a pathetic dog.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The goon slammed my head against the floor again and again. A warm stream of liquid trickled down my forehead, blurring my vision. I bit my lip, tasting blood, and forced myself to look up at her.
When my dad gets here, I squeezed the words through clenched teeth, youre finished.
Sharon froze for a second, then burst into maniacal laughter. Your dad? What, is he some construction worker from a job site down the street? Her eyes glittered with a new, venomous idea. Fine. Let him come. Let him see what his daughter really is.
She leisurely stood up and retrieved a utility knife from her purse. I tried to turn my head away, but the goon held me fast.
Click. The blade slid out, glinting under the office lights.
A worthless bitch like you should have it carved on your face for the whole world to see.
The cold metal traced a path along my cheek, sending a tremor of pure terror through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the searing pain. Its over. Its really over
The instant before the blade could cut
BANG!
The main door of the firm was thrown open with such force it slammed against the wall. A powerful voice, filled with a familiar, grounding authority, echoed through the room.
You dare lay a hand on my daughter? Grant, liquidate every asset tied to the Wallace name. Terminate all our contracts with their familys companies. Immediately.
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