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"You're twenty bucks short," the bookkeeper said to Anya.

"Are you certain?"

"I'm afraid it's true."

Frowning, the experienced human rights lawyer studied her neat gray-haired bookkeeper. Each month she kept their accounts straight and tallied their cashbox. If she stated twenty bucks were missing, they were.

"Leave it with me," Anya said. "Thank you."

She trusted her staff. The idea of theft sickened her. Their business was trust.

In her black leather executive chair, responsibility weighed on her shoulders. She couldn't ignore theft. Drawing up a suspect list was her immediate task.

She flicked her laptop screen to their security camera system. They'd upgraded their security, installing sophisticated cameras several years ago when a foreign government threatened a high-profile client. To catch a petty thief, their camera system was overkill. Its electronic gaze covered reception, including the desk drawer containing their gray metal cashbox, kept for modest needs.

Swearing her two senior lawyers to secrecy, she drafted them to watch surveillance footage. The sanctity of her trusted firm justified their collective time. Their high-speed month played over two days.

Armed with her list of suspects, the poor video angle didn't reveal their exact actions. Taking her practical start, she matched each cashbox withdrawal against its video clip. Staff had logged their withdrawal and reason: coffee, stationary, a taxi.

The primary user, their receptionist in her fifties, had corresponding entries for her actions. Inclined to doubt her guilt, Anya matched videos with cashbox entries, completing her list, leaving a single glaring suspect.

Buried in the cashbox drawer for significant seconds, her suspect's actions raised serious misgiving. A missing withdrawal log entry solidified her suspicion.

Staring at Carly on her twenty-inch screen, her heart grew cold. Resolving Carly's grievous mistake with Miss Roberts, she'd given her an enormous chance, inviting her to perform office admin.

Aware her young employee had boosted productivity, providing insightful research for her experienced team, she accepted her excellence. Carly wished to qualify as a lawyer, an investment far beyond her present means. She'd considered supporting Carly, given her team's high estimation of her.

Frowning at her screen, Anya sighed in bitter disappointment. Cases hinged on credibility. Human rights lawyers must be above reproach.

Carly's mind spun in circles as she passed busy offices towards reception. Her workload had collapsed. Fresh research jobs, her lifeblood, poured into her lap on Fridays.

She'd asked three different lawyers for research work. Their busy desks belied their negative responses. Brushing off her concerns as silly female angst, she returned files to their proper location, scanning each file's barcode to register its storage.

Entering the filing area, the office administrator said, "I'll file this stack. Thanks, Carly."

Heading towards the female bathroom, her supervisor's behavior rankled. Since their receptionist had taken ill on Monday, her supervisor had covered reception. Taking over unnecessary filing was ridiculous.

Nobody wanted her help. Yesterday she'd felt a subtle undercurrent. Today she was certain.

Working full time during college summer vacation, she loved her job. Anya's noble team helped clients in dire need. Rudderless a few months ago, she'd gained direction, deciding to become her own version of Anya.

Her boss had shown generosity when she'd been a silly girl. She admired Anya. Other lawyers feared her. Anya sliced arguments apart with a simple raised eyebrow.

Sitting in the bathroom, she evaluated her concerns. Deciding they were genuine, she studied her appearance in the mirror. Her staple black jeans joined an upgraded, tailored white blouse. White sneakers had morphed into cute black low-heel pumps. Her black blazer still projected an air of responsibility.

She held herself in high regard. A month ago, she'd gained a small amount of weight, nothing drastic. Excess takeout instead of cooking the simple cause. Miss Roberts' belt had imprinted its red signature on her lazy bottom. Her self-respect restored, her stinging bottom had propelled her into her kitchen. Proud of her strict discipline, she stood up for herself, even if it required her to submit to a painful punishment.

Exiting the restroom, she strode to Anya's office.

Knocking, she waited.

Granted permission, she entered. "Can I have a word, please?"

"Of course, sit," Anya said.

"I may be ultra sensitive," Carly said. "Most days I'm swamped beneath research requests. Fridays for sure. Nobody wants my help. It feels like I've offended someone. I'm clueless as to my sudden fault."

Anya's gaze drifted. Staff picked up subtle cues. Her senior lawyers knew her suspicions. By diverting work from Carly, her remarkable team had allowed mistrust to permeate their office. Blame rested on her shoulders. She should have acted. Instead, she'd struggled with her problem. She lacked hard evidence.

"We have a problem," Anya said. "I thought we'd kept it quiet."

"What problem?"

"Money is missing from the cashbox. We scanned our security footage. It showed you opening that drawer. The cash withdrawal log shows no corresponding entry."

Her beloved boss's implied accusation burning through her heart, Carly said, "I haven't touched your cash. Are you accusing me?"

"My evidence is circumstantial. Your behavior is unusual. You spent forty-two seconds rummaging inside that drawer."

"When?"

"Last Tuesday evening, 7pm."

Carly remembered. "I needed the stapler to finish one final deposition document. The space-age copy machine ran out of staples. Scraped my knuckles extracting that damn stapler from behind stuff."

"Twenty bucks went missing," Anya said.

"You caused everybody to despise me. I've done nothing wrong. It's unfair. I didn't take your fucking twenty bucks."

"Nobody should shun you. I didn't realize."

"I'm innocent. You encouraged everyone to hate me. It's shitty. I thought you were decent." Carly stood. "I don't care who took your twenty bucks. Drown me in proper jobs. Kill this fucking atmosphere. I never stole your bloody money."

Storming from her boss's office, she slammed the door.

Anya remained sad through her weekend. She had no evidence against Carly. She couldn't prove her case. The bright young girl's vociferous defense was credible. Her self-created atmosphere worried her. On Monday, she'd give Carly work herself, making her endorsement clear.

Carly's weekend was unpleasant, brooding around her studio apartment. Her job defined her. Without her co-workers' respect, she didn't wish to return. Despite her disappointment in Anya, she resolved to give her boss a chance.

Determination replacing enjoyment, Carly approached reception on Monday. Their receptionist chatted, unaware of the atmosphere in her absence. They gravitated towards the kitchen as they talked.

Pouring luxury Columbian beans into the DeLonghi coffee machine, Carly emptied the tin. Opening a fresh tin, she said, "Thanks."

The receptionist nodded. "I bought it on my way home last week. It sat reminding me you would run short."

Carly smiled at their conscientious receptionist.

"Funny story. I almost overpaid. Those crisp cashbox notes stick together. I thought I'd got twenty bucks. Instead, I'd picked up forty. It was lucky the checkout girl noticed."

Carly stared, dumbstruck. "Come with me," she ordered.

Ignoring protocol, she barged into Anya's office, their receptionist in tow. Ignoring Anya's offended expression, she said, "Tell her about buying the coffee beans."

The startled receptionist repeated her story

Mortified, Anya said, "You marked down twenty, while withdrawing forty bucks?"

"I returned the extra twenty this morning."

"It's okay. The bookkeeper noted a discrepancy. It doesn't matter. Thanks for telling me." Her stress relieved, Anya smiled.

"Carly," she said. "Company meeting in the boardroom in ten minutes. Please notify everyone."

Awash with chatter, Anya watched her boardroom become quiet as she entered. "Thank you for coming. I've screwed up. Last week our bookkeeper reported twenty bucks missing from our cashbox, a simple problem we resolved this morning."

Glancing at her trusted employees, she said, "I studied our security footage, enlisting help from several of you."

Attention riveted on her, Anya explained. "I witnessed Carly at the cashbox drawer. Allowing my suspicions to proliferate, I wasn't alone. We created an unhappy atmosphere for Carly. I was wrong. Indeed, I witnessed a dedicated employee getting a stapler. I'm ashamed of myself."

Turning to Carly, she said, "I'm sorry, Carly. My conduct was disgraceful. You're a tremendous star. We rely on you."

To everyone, she said, "Please help me. Keep Carly busy."

As the boardroom emptied, three senior lawyers asked Carly to collect research projects.

Carly followed Anya to her office. "Thanks for putting everybody on the correct page. I appreciate your public vote of confidence."

She hesitated. During Anya's speech, she'd felt her boss's honest remorse. Had she made Anya's mistake, she'd have reported her behavior to Miss Roberts, expecting severe consequences.

Sitting on her couch, Anya gave her junior employee space. "I'm sorry."

"You made sweeping assumptions, unjustified ones. Had I made your mistake, I would visit Miss Roberts, expecting a severe thrashing."

Anya blushed. "Since you caused us to meet, I also visit Miss Roberts."

Carly nodded. Her boss's confession didn't surprise her.

Anya said. "You deserved greater respect than I showed you. I will visit Miss Roberts. I deserve it. Will you watch? Getting beaten in front of you feels fitting."

Stunned, Carly stuttered. "Yes. Thank you. I hated losing my respect for you. I love your humble offer. Thank you. This firm, my job, and you are important to me."

Carly smiled. "Miss Roberts won't go easy on you." Their intimate solution dampened her panties as she imagined seeing the older girl corrected.

"I deserve it." Anya said, standing. Tapping her phone, she said, "I've got an appointment for lunchtime tomorrow."

Enjoying their understanding, Carly said. "For bonus respect, wear a short skirt this week. Risk exposing your punishment marks. You deserve the constant fear."

Anya grinned. "I'll do it."

Fair penance for her arrogance, she'd wear her shortest skirt, declaring her deep appreciation of her youngest employee. "I'll drive. The appointment is at 1pm."

Carly frowned. She had another concern. "Your generous offer makes me feel worse."

"Why?"

Carly met Anya's gaze. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her gaze to the carpet. "You're still my boss. I swore at you on Friday, several times. I don't think you should let me off."