“Still Jobless, Still Figuring It Out,” My Brother Toasted at a Rooftop Party — Minutes Later a Harassment Complaint Hit My Phone, and by Monday He Learned the Company He’d Been Mocking Belonged to Me

Bryce entered Northline like he entered every room, confident, charming, instinctively aware of how to read people, and at first the team liked him, because he remembered names and told stories well and made meetings feel lighter until the jokes started landing harder on people who had less power to push back. He laughed when junior staff hesitated, brushed off discomfort with a grin, and dismissed criticism as people “not getting the culture,” and each time someone stiffened, he widened his smile and said,

“I’m kidding, relax.”

The complaint wasn’t the first signal, just the first one brave enough to be formal, and once I looked closely, the pattern was impossible to unsee, because harm rarely announces itself loudly; it accumulates, quietly, until someone decides they have had enough.

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