PART 2
“That’s it, Mark. You’re done tap dancing between us. You’re either with me or with them, so decide.”
Silence. Long, heavy. I could almost see the war in his head: fear of his mother versus something that looked suspiciously like love for me.
“With you,” he finally exhaled. “I should have chosen you a long time ago.” That night, he became my accomplice.
First stop, HR. “I need to document a potential conflict of interest,” I told the HR specialist calmly. “One of the internship candidates is a relative, and I want everything handled by the book so no one can complain later.”
Her eyebrows climbed. “You understand that direct relatives in a reporting line violate company policy?”
“I do,” I said. “But we’re short on interns this quarter, and she applied first. If we reject her because she’s family and she finds out, she can scream discrimination and file a complaint, so please record it formally while I declare the conflict and take responsibility, and HR can co-sign every decision made about her.”
She sighed. “All right. But if there are problems, we want to hear about them immediately.”
That piece of paper, I thought, watching her type, is going to be my trump card. A week later, Ellen couldn’t resist and called to brag.
“My smart girl got into a top firm,” she crowed. “Tell your dear wife to help her out since she works there, not that we expect much. She’s just office plankton.”
Mark actually snapped for the first time in his life. “Emma does a great job, Mom.”
“Oh, we found a knight in shining armor,” Ellen sniffed. “We’ll see how bright my star shines. She’s a project coordinator, you know.”
After he hung up, Mark gave me a sideways look. “That’s it,” he said quietly. “No more swallowing it.”
“Good,” I said. “Because they started this. They just don’t realize who they picked a fight with.”
Allison’s first day was a show. She strutted in wearing a sharp suit, sky-high heels, and the face of someone who’d already ordered her nameplate for the corner office.
“Everyone, meet our new intern,” I said to my team. “She’ll be handling basic admin tasks. Any questions come to me because I run the internship program.”
I saw the way her smile twitched. Reality was starting to knock.
From day one, I kept a file. Every late arrival got a formal note, and every missed deadline got an incident report. Every major mistake got a written warning with a required explanation, all fully aligned with company policy and HR guidelines.
I wanted a neat paper trail. Nothing more, nothing less. It took her three days to botch a task that should have taken two hours.
“Sort the client database,” I’d told her. “By region, revenue, and last contact date.” She managed to scramble half the entries, invent dates, and quietly delete a chunk of files.
When I opened the result, it looked like a blender had gone off inside our CRM. “System issues?” I asked mildly, scrolling through the chaos.
“Yeah, software is glitchy,” she sniffed. “Whatever. Once I finish this internship, I’ll move to a real department.”
Sure you will, I thought. Just not the one you expect. I logged the incident with the time, date, and detailed description of the errors.
In the middle of all this, Ellen stayed busy in the family WhatsApp chat. My princess is already running projects, she typed, while some people remain low-level paper pushers. Aren’t you embarrassed that your sister-in-law will be teaching you how things are really done?
Mark, sitting next to me on the couch, typed back calmly. Emma’s learning a lot from your daughter. It’s been very educational.
We read those messages together. Every smug sentence, every little dig was another log on the fire.
“You sure you want to go through with this?” Mark asked one night, looking at the thick folder in my hands.
“They fired the first shot,” I said, saving yet another memo into the digital file. “I’m just following procedure.”
Midweek, Ellen called and summoned me for coffee and a heart-to-heart. That’s how she put it.
The heart-to-heart turned out to be an ambush at a cute cafe near downtown. She was parked at a corner table like a queen on a throne, sparkly dress, lashes so thick she could barely blink, and that fake smile that always makes my stomach twist.
“Sit down, dear,” she cooed when I walked up. “We need to talk woman to woman.”
“Your future,” she said, stirring her cappuccino slowly, stretching every pause. “And my son’s future.” She sighed theatrically.
“Look, I know you’ve tried, but it’s obvious you can’t give Mark the life he deserves. Now, Allison…” Her eyes lit up.
“That’s an ambitious woman. A week in, and she’s already running projects. Management adores her.”
She leaned closer and dropped her voice. “Maybe you should study how she works, see how a successful woman does it, and stop being a dead weight.”
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