Emily Meyers had reached her limit. Again. The Argentina Day chaos was the final nail in the coffin of her patience. Her desk, her computer, and her sanity had all fallen victim to Luke Edmunds' latest round of antics. The Provoleta-covered desk was bad enough, but now IT had outright insulted her, and HR continued to act like Luke was their golden child.
Her plan was simple: march into Campbell's office, demand action, and finally put an end to Luke's reign of absurdity.
When Emily reached Campbell's office, she froze in disbelief. Tango music was blaring from inside, so loud it was vibrating the door. It wasn't just music—it was La Cumparsita, the quintessential tango anthem, and it was on full volume.
She pushed the door open without knocking. Campbell sat at his desk, feet up, lazily flipping through a file while the music blared around him.
"Campbell!" she shouted over the music.
He glanced up, seemingly unfazed. "Emily, what a surprise. Can I help you?"
"Yes, you can turn that down!" she yelled, pointing to the speaker on his desk. "This is ridiculous!"
He sighed dramatically, reaching over to lower the volume—by about two notches. The music was still deafening.
"Better?" he asked, clearly uninterested.
"No!" she snapped. "I need to talk to you about Luke. He's destroyed my desk, ruined my computer, and turned this office into a circus!"
Campbell leaned back in his chair, swirling his coffee like he was at a wine tasting. "Luke's parties are good for morale, Emily. You need to learn to loosen up."
"Loosen up?" she repeated, incredulous. "My computer is literally broken! IT can't fix it, and HR is completely useless!"
Campbell shrugged. "Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on HR. They're doing their best."
"Are they?" she shot back. "Because it seems like they're doing Luke's bidding."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're overthinking this."
Her fists clenched. "I'm not overthinking anything. You're just ignoring the problem because you're too busy enjoying Luke's chaos!"
Campbell smiled, leaning forward. "You know, you could learn a thing or two from Luke. He knows how to make work fun."
Emily's jaw dropped. "This isn't a theme park, Campbell. It's a hedge fund!"
"Exactly," he said. "Which is why we need to blow off steam now and then."
Her hands trembled with frustration. "You're impossible."
"And you're uptight," he replied.
Before she could respond, he reached over and cranked the music back to full volume, drowning out any chance of further conversation.
Fuming, Emily stormed out of his office, her ears ringing from the music. If Campbell wouldn't take her seriously, she'd go straight to HR. Again.
She found Sylvia in the HR office, sitting behind her desk with the same calm, unreadable expression she always wore.
"Sylvia," Emily said, barely containing her anger. "We need to talk."
Sylvia glanced up from her laptop, her fingers still poised over the keyboard. "What's the issue, Emily?"
"The issue," Emily began, her voice tight, "is Luke. Again. He's ruined my desk, destroyed my computer, and IT won't help because they think it's funny. Campbell refuses to listen, and now I'm here because this madness has to stop."
Sylvia nodded slowly, as if Emily had just asked her to calculate the meaning of life. "I see. And what exactly do you expect HR to do?"
Emily blinked, stunned by the question. "Your job! Hold Luke accountable, enforce some kind of discipline—anything!"
Sylvia closed her laptop and folded her hands on the desk. "Emily, I understand your frustration, but Luke's events are meant to foster a positive workplace culture."
"Positive?" Emily repeated, her voice rising. "There's cheese on my desk! My computer is unusable! How is that positive?"
Sylvia shrugged. "Sometimes, these things happen. It's all part of the creative process."
Emily stared at her, her rage bubbling over. "Creative process? Are you serious right now?"
"Luke has a unique way of boosting morale," Sylvia said, her tone annoyingly calm. "Perhaps you should try embracing it."
Emily's jaw clenched. "You've got to be kidding me. He's brainwashed you, hasn't he?"
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Emily snapped. "He's brainwashed you. That's the only explanation for why you're enabling his nonsense!"
Sylvia's calm demeanor didn't waver. "Emily, I suggest you take a moment to collect yourself."
"I don't need to collect myself," Emily said, her voice trembling with fury. "What I need is for someone in this office to do their job!"
Sylvia sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Emily, you're being irrational."
That was the last straw. "You're fired," Emily said, pointing at her.
Sylvia blinked, genuinely surprised. "Excuse me?"
"You're fired," Emily repeated. "Pack up your desk and leave. You're useless."
Sylvia's expression hardened. "Emily, you don't have the authority to—"
"I don't care!" Emily yelled. "Get out!"
The entire office went silent as Sylvia gathered her things and left, shooting Emily a withering glare on her way out.
For a brief moment, Emily felt triumphant. But her victory was short-lived. As she turned back toward her desk, she spotted Luke standing nearby, holding a plate of empanadas and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"Did you just fire HR?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.
"Yes," she snapped. "And you're next."
Luke chuckled, taking a bite of his empanada. "Good luck with that, Evita."
"Stop calling me Evita!" she shouted.
"Never," he replied, his grin widening. "You're the gift that keeps on giving."
Her fists clenched, and for a moment, she seriously considered throwing one of the empanadas at his face. Instead, she turned on her heel and stormed back to her desk, determined to figure out her next move.
Back at her desk, Emily stared at the sticky, cheese-covered mess in front of her. Her phone buzzed with a notification.
Luke Edmunds: Instagram Story
She groaned, opening it.
The video showed Sylvia leaving the office, with Luke narrating: "Breaking news: Evita Meyers takes on HR. Spoiler alert: It doesn't end well."
The caption read: "#CheeseGate #OfficeDrama "
Her blood boiled as she typed out a reply:
"You're unbearable."
His response came almost immediately:
"And you're predictable, Evita. "
She threw her phone onto her desk, glaring at the sticky mess that still covered it.
The feud wasn't over—not by a long shot. But as Emily sat there, plotting her next move, she vowed that Luke—and his enablers—would regret underestimating her.
Because if they thought this was the end, they were sorely mistaken.