Gemotions

The email was still open on her screen, the words “Marketing to Accounts Receivable” mocking her. She slammed her fist on the desk, rattling the already precarious stack of papers. Her jaw clenched so tight she felt a muscle strain. A vein throbbed in her temple. She hadn't even been *consulted*.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, the sound tight and strained in her throat. She pushed her chair back, the wheels squealing against the cheap linoleum, and paced the small, cluttered office, kicking a stray wastebasket across the floor. This wasn’t just a lateral move; it was a demotion, a punishment disguised as "opportunity."

She imagined the smirks of the marketing team, the whispers already swirling. They probably thought she was incompetent. Well, they could all go straight to hell. She grabbed her phone, scrolling through contacts, looking for a way, any way, to fight this.