He sat down in his chair and leaned back. "You've worked hard since you joined this company. I've noticed that. But sometimes hard work isn't enough to protect you from office politics."
Ethan looked down at the floor, his heart sinking lower with each word.
Mr. Holt sighed again, then added, "If things don't go well, I can try to talk to a few of my friends who handle security contracts. They're always looking for people who can handle paperwork and logistics. It's not the same as this job, but it's something."
Ethan lifted his eyes slowly.
"I don't make promises," the manager said, his tone flat again. "But I'll see what I can do. You seem like a good kid. You just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Ethan nodded slowly.
Mr. Holt glanced at him for a moment longer, then waved his hand toward the door. "You can go now. Just... keep your head down for the rest of the day."
Ethan nodded again, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Yes, sir."
He turned around and opened the door. As he stepped out into the open office, the other workers looked up briefly, then turned away, pretending not to stare.
Collins stood near his desk, his face pale. "What did he say?" he asked quietly.
Ethan forced a weak smile. "Nothing much. Just that the higher-ups will decide what happens next."
Collins rubbed the back of his neck. "Man, I feel like this is my fault."
"It's not," Ethan said. "Don't worry about it."
But deep inside, he didn't believe his own words.
He walked back to his desk and sat down. His computer screen was still open to the spreadsheet he had worked on last week. The same numbers he had tried to double-check before sending them in.
Now those same numbers were all over the news.
He stared at the monitor, but the lines of data began to blur. His mind felt heavy, and his chest ached with a dull pain.
All around him, the office buzzed with nervous whispers and the sound of fingers typing. Yet, to Ethan, it felt like silence.
He leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, trying to hold himself together.
Somewhere deep inside, a small part of him wished he hadn't cared so much about doing things the right way. Maybe then, the disappointment wouldn't hurt this much.
After a few minutes, he stood up again, walked toward the break room, and filled a cup with water. His reflection on the glass looked tired, eyes red, lips pressed together.
He took a sip, then placed the cup down slowly.
From across the room, Collins watched him. He wanted to say something, maybe to apologize again, but the look on Ethan's face stopped him.
Ethan turned toward the window, staring outside. The city lights were faint even though it was still morning. Cars moved below like ants, and people rushed through their daily routines, unaware of the small storm breaking inside his world.
The Rusty Tankard Bar sat quietly at the edge of the street, dimly lit and filled with the low hum of people talking over cheap drinks. The air smelled of old wood, cigarette smoke, and spilled beer. Outside, cars passed by with dull headlights flashing through the glass windows.
Ethan sat at one of the small corner tables, his shirt sleeves rolled up, the top button loose. A half-empty glass of whiskey sat in front of him. His eyes were fixed on the drink, his mind lost somewhere far away.
Across from him sat Collins. His tie was gone, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and his speech was already slurred from too much alcohol. He laughed at random moments, even when nothing was funny.
"Man," Collins said, leaning forward, his breath smelling of beer. "I can't believe that report blew up like that. Everything just went straight to hell."
Ethan didn't respond. He just swirled his drink gently, staring at the amber color.
Collins continued talking. "I mean, who could've guessed that the board would find out so soon? They're acting like it's the end of the world."
Ethan finally looked up at him. "You think this is funny?" he asked quietly.
Collins stopped laughing. "No, I don't think it's funny. I'm just... trying to breathe, you know? Trying not to panic."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "You were supposed to handle that report. It was your section. You pushed it to me at the last minute."
Collins raised his hands slowly. "I know, I know. I get it. I messed up, alright? But we can't undo it now." He leaned forward again, lowering his voice. "That's why I wanted to meet you tonight. To talk."
Ethan took a sip from his glass, the bitter taste burning his throat. "Talk about what?"
Collins hesitated. His eyes darted around the bar as if making sure no one was listening. "About what happens next," he said. "You know the higher-ups are calling the office soon, right?"
"Yeah," Ethan replied.
"They'll ask for explanations. They'll want someone to take responsibility for the report."
Ethan looked at him with a frown. "I already know that."
Collins leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower. "Look, Ethan... I need a favor."
Ethan's brows furrowed. "What kind of favor?"
Collins sighed, scratching his head nervously. "I need you to take the blame for this one."
Ethan froze. For a moment, he thought he hadn't heard right. "What?"
"Just listen," Collins said quickly. "I know it sounds bad, but hear me out. If I go down for this, my job's finished. My girlfriend's pregnant again, man. We've got another baby on the way. I can't afford to lose this job right now."
Ethan blinked, speechless. "And you think I can?"
Collins placed his hand on the table, leaning forward. "You're single. You don't have a family yet. If they fire you, you can get another job somewhere else. But if I get fired, I'm done. My girlfriend's counting on me. I can't let her down."
Ethan stared at him in disbelief. "You're asking me to sacrifice my career for your family?"
Collins's voice softened, almost pleading. "Not sacrifice. Just... take the fall, temporarily. You know how these things go. They'll probably suspend you for a while, maybe give you a warning, and then you'll be back. You're new, they'll pity you. But me? They'll crush me."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "You're unbelievable."
Collins sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm just asking for your help. One time. Please."