Chapter 3: The Lamb and the Lion

Chapter 3: The Lamb and the Lion

Elara’s words hung in the stale air of Conference Room 7B, chilling and absolute. “If we don’t have the perfect piece of evidence, we’ll have to make him create it for us.”

Leo stared at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You want to poke the bear?” he said, his voice a low growl of disbelief. “You want to deliberately set him off? Elara, we’re not just poking him. We’re locked in the cage with him. If this goes wrong, he’ll maul us all.”

“He’s already mauling us,” Sarah countered, her voice shaking but firm. “He’s just doing it slowly, one bite at a time. I’d rather face him once than get bled dry over another year.”

The logic was grim but undeniable. They had a choice between a slow, certain demise and one desperate, high-stakes gamble.

“So what’s the plan, General?” Mark asked, looking at Elara. The title was half-joking, but laced with a newfound respect. She had become their de facto leader.

“His vanity,” Elara answered immediately, her strategic mind already several steps ahead. “His entire sense of self is built on the belief that he is brilliant and everyone else is an idiot. The only thing that enrages him more than being disobeyed is being made to look foolish. We’re not going to disobey him. We are going to give him exactly what he wants: a report for his big presentation.”

She paused, letting the idea sink in. “And that report will contain a single, beautifully calculated error.”

Leo leaned forward, his tech-savvy brain engaging. “An error that’s small enough for us to plausibly deny as a mistake, but big enough to derail his presentation and trigger a meltdown.”

“Exactly,” Elara confirmed. “Something in the key metrics. A number that he’s memorized and loves to boast about. We’ll inflate the engagement percentage for a campaign that underperformed. When he presents it, he’ll look like a god. But if—when—someone on the board questions it, the whole thing will unravel live, in front of his bosses. He won’t be able to contain himself. The fury will be directed at whoever gave him the bad data.”

A heavy silence fell over the table. The elegance of the trap was matched only by its danger. They all knew who that fury would be directed at. The question hung in the air: who would be the sacrifice? Who would be the one to hand-deliver the ticking bomb?

Mark shifted uncomfortably. “My kid has a dentist appointment tomorrow…” he mumbled, looking away. Sarah bit her lip, her own fears evident on her face. They had families, mortgages. They had more to lose.

It was Lily who broke the silence. She pushed her chair back and stood up. She was still physically small, dwarfed by the imposing conference table, but her posture had changed. The timid slump was gone, replaced by a straight-backed resolve that made her seem taller.

“It should be me,” she said.

All eyes turned to her.

“Lily, no,” Elara said, her voice softening with concern. “You’ve been through enough. He’s already got you in his sights.”

“That’s why it has to be me,” Lily insisted, her gaze unwavering. “He already thinks I’m incompetent. He already thinks I’m weak. He’ll believe I’m capable of a stupid mistake. If one of you did it, he’d be suspicious. With me… it fits his narrative.” She took a deep breath, and a spark of defiance lit her eyes. “This morning, he told me I wasn't paid to think. I’ve been thinking about nothing else since. He wants a lamb for the slaughter? Fine. Let’s see what happens when the lamb bites back.”

The transformation was astonishing. The timid junior designer had found her steel. Her bravery shamed their fear into submission and galvanized their resolve. This was no longer just Elara’s plan; it was Lily’s battle.

“Okay,” Leo said, his voice gruff with emotion. “Okay, Lily. If you’re the tip of the spear, we’re the shaft. We’ll have your back every step of the way. Here’s how we do it.”

The war room buzzed with a new, focused energy. Leo took charge of the technicals. “We can’t plant anything. Too risky. We have to use what we have: our phones. Three points of capture. Redundancy is key.”

He pointed at Lily. “Your phone will be on your desk, propped against your coffee mug, angled toward where you’ll be standing. Start the video recording before you walk over. Frame it so it looks like you’re filming a screen tutorial. Plausible deniability.”

He turned to Sarah, whose cubicle was adjacent to the confrontation zone. “Your phone is our primary audio. Hide it behind a stack of papers. We need to hear every single word, every threat.”

“What about me?” Mark asked, eager to contribute.

“You’re the roving camera,” Leo instructed. “Five minutes after Lily goes in, you’re going to get up to go to the coffee machine. You’ll walk past his office. Your phone will be in your breast pocket, the camera lens peeking out. You’ll get us a clean shot through the glass wall of his office. It’ll look natural.”

The plan was meticulous, layered, and dangerous. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a tense, secretive rehearsal. Elara took on the role of director, coaching Lily on the psychology of their target.

They sat together at the dusty table, a printout of a dummy report between them. “We’ll change the Q3 social media conversion rate,” Elara decided. “He loves that metric. We’ll bump it from 3.2% to a jaw-dropping 8.2%. It’s a huge, glorious lie that his ego won't let him question.”

She looked at Lily, her expression serious. “When he starts to yell, and he will, you can’t fight back. You can’t get defensive. That’s what he expects. You will absorb it. You will look scared, your voice will tremble, but you will hold his gaze. Then, you will say, ‘You’re right, Mr. Thorne. It’s my mistake. I’ll fix it immediately.’ Your absolute submission will feel like defiance to him. It will drive him insane.”

They rehearsed it over and over, Elara playing the part of Marcus with chilling accuracy, spewing insults and condescension until Lily could stand her ground without flinching, her face a perfect mask of terrified compliance.

By the time they slipped back to their desks, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the office. The air was thick with an unspoken countdown.

The next morning, the office felt like a stage set for a tragedy. The quiet was back, but now it was charged with electricity. Leo, Mark, and Sarah moved with a forced casualness that was almost painful to watch. Every keystroke, every sip of coffee was part of the performance.

At 9:45 AM, Elara sent a single, coded message to their secure chat group: ‘Greenlight.’

From her desk, she watched as Lily took a slow, deep breath. She stood up, smoothing down her skirt. In her hand, she held a single-page report, the crisp white paper a stark contrast to the dark storm they were about to unleash. Her hand trembled slightly, but her eyes were fixed on her destination: the glass-walled corner office where the lion sat, oblivious.

Lily started her phone’s video recorder, propping it carefully against her mug. She took one last look at Elara, who gave her the smallest, most reassuring of nods.

Then, she began the long walk across the office floor. Every head stayed down, pretending not to watch. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic click of Lily’s heels on the linoleum, a metronome marking the final seconds of peace before the trap was sprung. The office held its breath.