They fired me because of my age. As a farewell, I gave all my colleagues roses, and left my boss a folder with the results of my secret audit.
Lena, we have to part ways.
Gennadiy said it with that same paternal softness in his voicethe one he always switched on right before pulling another dirty move.
He leaned back in his massive chair, fingers interlaced over his stomach.
We decided the company needs fresh perspectives. New energy. You understand.
I studied himhis carefully groomed face, the expensive tie Id helped him pick for last years corporate party.
Understand? Oh, absolutely. I knew perfectly well the investors had started demanding an independent audit, so he urgently needed to get rid of the only person who saw the whole picture. Me.
I understand, I replied calmly. So, the new energy is Katya from reception, who mixes up debits and credits but is twenty-two and laughs at all your jokes?
He winced.
Its not about age, Lena. Its just your approach is outdated. Were stuck. We need a breakthrough.
Breakthrough. That was his favorite word for the last six months. Id built this company alongside him from nothing, squeezed into a dingy office with peeling walls.
Now that the office was all glossy surfaces, I apparently no longer matched the decor.
Fine, I stood up smoothly, my insides turning to ice. When should I clear my desk?
My composure threw him off. Hed expected tears, begging, a sceneanything to let him play the magnanimous winner.
Today. Take your time. HR will prepare the paperwork. Compensation, everything by the book.
I nodded and headed for the door. Hand on the handle, I glanced back.
You know, Gen, youre right. The company *does* need a breakthrough. And I might just deliver it.
He didnt get it. Just gave me a patronizing smile.
The open office hummed with tension. Fifteen people, all pretending not to watch.
The girls guiltily avoided eye contact. At my desk, a cardboard box was already waiting. Efficient.
I silently packed my thingsfamily photos, my favorite mug, a stack of professional journals. At the bottom, I placed the little bouquet of lilies of the valley my son had brought me yesterdayjust because.
Then, from my bag, I pulled what Id prepared in advance: twelve red roses, one for every colleague whod stood by me all these years. And a thick black binder.
I walked around the office, handing each person a flower.
Soft words of gratitude. Some hugged me. Some cried. It felt like leaving family.
Only the binder remained. I picked it up, passed my bewildered coworkers, and marched back to Gennadiys office.
The door was ajar. He was on the phone, laughing.
Yeah, the old guards making way Time to move forward
I didnt knock. Just walked in, dropped the binder onto his documents.
He looked up, startled, and covered the receiver.
Whats this?
My parting gift, Gen. Instead of flowers. Every “breakthrough” youve made these past two years.
Numbers, invoices, dates. Thought youd enjoy reading. Especially the part about “creative accounting” for embezzlement.
I turned and left. His stare bored into my backfirst at the binder, then at me.
He barked something into the phone and hung up. But I didnt look back.
I walked through the office, empty box in hand. Now, everyone *was* watching.
Their expressions mixed fear and awe. On every desk, my red roses stood like poppies on a battlefield.
At the exit, the lead IT guy, Sergei, caught up to me. A quiet man Gennadiy treated as furniture.
Last year, when Gen tried pinning a server crash *he* caused on Sergeialong with a massive fineId dug up the logs and shut it down. He remembered.
Olena Petrivna, he murmured, if you ever need anything data, cloud backups you know where to find me.
I just nodded. The first voice of resistance.
At home, my husband and son waited. They saw the box in my arms and understood.
So, it worked? my husband asked, taking the box.
Its begun, I replied, kicking off my heels. Now we wait.
My son, the future lawyer, hugged me.
Mom, youre incredible. I double-checked all the documents you gathered. Its airtight.
Hed helped me organize a years worth of secret recordsGens double books, laid bare.
All evening, I waited for the call. It came at 11 PM. I put him on speaker.
Lena? No trace of that softness now. Just poorly contained panic. What *is* this? Blackmail?
So dramatic, Gennadiy. Its not blackmail. Just an audit. A gift.
Ill ruin you! This is slander! Theft!
The originals arent with me. And if anything happens to my family, these files go straight to the tax office. And your investors.
Silence. Then ragged breathing.
What do you want? Money? Your job back?
Justice, Gen. Return every cent you stole. Then resign. Quietly.
Youre insane! This is *my* company!
*Our* company, I said. Until your greed took over. You have until 9 AM tomorrow.
I hung up mid-curse.
No news came by morning. At 9:15, an email from Gen popped up: *”Emergency all-hands meeting at 10. Come. Lets see who blinks first.”* He was doubling down.
What now? my husband asked.
Im going. Wouldnt miss my own premiere.
I wore my sharpest suit. At 9:55, I entered the office. Everyone was already in the conference room.
Gen stood by the projector screen. Seeing me, he smiled like a predator.
Ah, our star. Sit, Lena. Lets all hear how our supposedly outdated CFO tried blackmailing leadership.
He launched into a speechmelodramatic, about betrayal. Waved my binder like a flag.
Lies from someone who cant accept their time is up!
The team stayed silent, eyes downcast. Ashamed but afraid.
I waited for him to pause for water, then texted Sergei: *”Go.”*
The screen behind Gen went blackthen lit up with a scanned invoice. Payment for “consulting services” to a shell company registered to his mother-in-law.
Gen froze.
More documents flashedpersonal vacation expenses, home renovation bills, kickback percentages from chats.
Whatwhat *is* this? he rasped.
Data visualization, I said, standing. You wanted a breakthrough?
Here it is. A breakthrough from *your* theft. You said my methods were outdated? Maybe. Im old-fashionedI dont steal.
I faced the team.
I wont ask you to pick sides. Just showing facts. Draw your own conclusions.
I set my phone down.
Oh, Gen? This is live-streaming to our investors. Resigning is the *softest* outcome youll get.
Gen stared at the screen, then at me. His face grayed. The act collapsed, leaving just a scared little man.
I walked out.
Sergei stood first. Then Olga, our top sales manager, whom Gen constantly belittled. Andriy, the analyst whose reports hed stolen, rose next.
Even quiet Marina from accountingthe one whod cried over his nitpicking. They didnt follow *me*. They walked *away* from *him*.
Two days later, a stranger calleda crisis manager hired by the investors. Flatly informed me: Gen was suspended. Audit underway.
Thank you for your *assistance*. Would you return to stabilize things?
No, I said. Id rather build something new than clean up his mess.
The first months were hard. We crammed into a tiny rented officeeerily like our early days.
Me, my husband, son, Sergei, and Olga worked twelve-hour days. Our firms name, *Audit & Integrity*, wasnt just branding.
We earned clients by proving our worthnot with words, but results.
Sometimes I drive past our old office.
Different sign now. The company didnt survive Gens “breakthrough”or the scandal.
They didnt fire me for being old. They fired me because I was a mirror, reflecting Gens greed and incompetence.
He wanted to shatter that mirror. Forgot one thing: broken glass cuts deeper.
