Before the Lie Could Bury My Brother

Camille's POV

My brother's first day on the job, and the new intern, Ashley Pratt, accuses him of trying something with her in the break room.

In my last life, I panicked under all those judging stares and my father screaming at me over the phone. I grabbed my brother by the shoulder and forced him to bow and apologize to her, tried to pay her off to make it go away.

She turned around and leaked the wire transfer online instead, twisted it into a story about rich people paying to buy back their good name. The backlash spiraled out of control. My brother couldn't take the flood of hate anymore and jumped from the roof. He hit the ground and there was nothing left of him to recognize.

My father used my failure to handle it as an excuse to push me off the board. I ended up watching the woman responsible climb over my brother's grave and take the CEO seat at Merritt Industries.

Fate is giving me a second shot.

My brother reaches for me, eyes rimmed red. "Camille, I swear I didn't do anything."

I pull him behind me and look down at the woman crying on the floor.

"She's saying you assaulted her? Fine. Let's call the cops."

"Sullivan, just because your sister's Camille, you think you can pull that in the break room? I don't want to live anymore!"

The shriek cuts through the quiet of Merritt Industries headquarters.

My eyes snap open.

My desk, the scattered papers, the crowd building outside in the hallway, all of it familiar.

I've been reborn, back to the first day Sullivan Merritt started his internship, fresh out of college.

The horror of my last life flashes through my mind. I take a breath and force it down.

Reliving this whole day again. The bigger picture? My reputation?

Screw the bigger picture.

I push open my office door and head for the break room at the end of the hall.

The crowd parts for me without a word.

Outside the break room, Ashley sits crumpled on the floor, collar torn, hair a mess, hands over her face, shaking.

"I'm just a normal girl. I worked so hard to get this internship at Merritt... how could you do this to me..."

Employees whisper around her, shooting Sullivan disgusted looks.

"Gross. Thinks he can pull that just because he's got money."

"He always seemed like such a nice guy. Turns out he's an animal."

"Poor girl, first day on the job and this happens to her..."

Sullivan stands frozen a few feet away, face drained of color, fists clenched. I've always kept him too sheltered. He's never faced anything like this.

"I didn't touch her!" His voice shakes. "Camille, I swear I didn't do anything! I just came in to get water and she grabbed onto me out of nowhere, then ripped her own shirt and started screaming..."

He turns to the crowd, trying to explain. "You have to believe me, I never laid a hand on her!"

"Liar!" Ashley's tears keep coming. "If you didn't force yourself on me, why would I ever drag my own name through the mud like this? How am I supposed to work in this industry ever again?"

That line does it. The crowd tips entirely toward her.

Right. Because no girl would ever lie about something like this.

Sullivan has no way to defend himself. He turns to me. "Camille, please believe me, I really didn't do it..."

I walk up to him and study his face, the same face I once watched shatter beyond recognition, whole now, untouched. Something ugly rises in my chest.

I keep my expression flat and pull him behind me. "Not another word. From now on, you don't say anything unless I tell you to."

Sullivan blinks, startled, but he's listened to me his whole life. He presses his lips shut.

I turn and look down at Ashley on the floor.

Panic flickers across her face for a second, then she settles back into a look of hurt and fear, shrinking away from me.

"Ms. Merritt... I get that you want to protect your brother, but I'm somebody's daughter too. You can't just cover for him because he shares your last name..."

I let out a short laugh and crouch down in front of her. "Ashley, right? You're telling everyone my brother forced himself on you. Where's your proof?"

She hesitates, clearly thrown. I'm not playing the part she expected.

Most people in my position would've already hauled her into an office to smooth things over, then quietly cut her a check.

"My... my torn clothes, the scratches on my neck, that's my proof!" She bites her lip. "Ms. Merritt, you can't treat me like this! This is harassment, I could sue you!"

"You tore your own clothes. Those are your own scratches on your own neck. All that proves is your shirt's ripped and your skin's red." I turn to the crowd of onlookers, raising my voice. "Did anyone here actually see my brother touch her? Speak up."

Dead silence. Nobody says a word.

"No witnesses. Got it." I turn back to Ashley. "So there's no one who saw anything. What gives you the right to decide it was him?"