Scarred By a Simple Purchase

ing, the offi

down the aisle. It was a prickly, uncomfortable feeling, like walking through a patch of thorns. I gave a tentative sm

oing on? Did I have something on my face? I subtly ch

ying a little too hard to fit in, her ambition so naked it was almost charmin

"Sarah," she said, her voice a stage whisper that carried across t

' . And there, at the top, was a picture of me. It was my profile picture from my own pri

uge, bold red letters,

f-a-kind designer dress from my boutique. The second it was delivered, she initiated a fraudulent chargeback, effectively stealing the item.

y workplac

The post had hundreds of shares. The comments were a nightmare. 'Scumbag.' 'Hope she gets fired.' 'Look at that smug face, you can just

barely a whisper. I felt dozens of eyes on me. My colle

phone, my fingers clumsy as I pulled up the USPS tracking page. "Look! See?

ced at it, but her eyes were unconvinced. She shrugged, a small, di

ed them the screen too. "Look, please. It says '

one can fake a screenshot, Sarah. But that post... a bus

my quiet, complicated truth. I was isolated, standing in a circle of people I

emanding. It was Mr. Harrison' s e

turned to watch. Mr. Harrison was sitting behind his large

ce cold and clipped. "From clients. From the media. They'

a complete fabrication. The man is t

or if you' re Mother Teresa. What I care about is the reputation of this firm. Right now, when you Google Sterling-C

like a physical

e how you do it. Pay the man. Beg him. I don' t care. Just get that post taken down and your name out

g convicted by my boss, by my colleagues, by strangers on the i

s. I sat down, the weight of the injustice pressing down on me, threatening to crush me. For a

r. Harrison' s callous ultimatum. I thought of Thorne' s sneering voice on the

victim. I wouldn' t be

e call recording I' d made and dragged it into the folder. I saved the email from the credit card company confirming I had not, in fact, initiated a chargeback. I was building an