🎉 Congratulations on solving the Office Holiday Party Mystery!
When you finally reach the end of Cole Bitters’ Riddle Gate, everything snaps into place with a clarity that would make Raven Frostwell weep with joy (and maybe open the good cocoa).
Piece by piece, clue by clue, Cole’s riddles reveal the real story of what happened the morning the company gifts vanished from Snowcap Industries.
What REALLY Happened at 7:12 AM
The timeline, once confusing, now reads like a particularly unhinged Slack thread.
At precisely 7:12 AM, the moment the gifts disappeared, Mara Poinsett from HR was already knee-deep in office drama, trying to keep two employees from bludgeoning each other with festive wreaths.
Reginald Slate, the CFO, was very decisively nowhere near the crime scene — he was elbow-deep in the dumpster out back, trying to retrieve “creatively classified” financial documents he had thrown out with too much confidence and not enough foresight. A photo of his crimes (financial and fashion) had been sent to him anonymously as blackmail.
He shredded everything… except his dignity, which was already gone.
Tessa Ribbon and Helga Snowdrift were nowhere near the theft either, both busy putting out fires in other parts of the building.
Brantley North was stuck in a virtual meeting titled “Q4 Sales Synergy Blast-Off,” which, according to witnesses, “felt like three days.”
That leaves one person.
One person who:
Had the technical access
Knew the camera blind spots
Was seen lurking in the hallway
And was definitely awake at 7:12 AM because he “doesn’t sleep like normal humans”
Cole Bitters.
The IT Technician.
The smug bastard who speaks in riddles.
Why Cole Did It
Cole wasn’t after the gifts themselves — he didn’t even know what this year’s “Snowcap Signature Surprise” was supposed to be. (He guessed “scented notebook” or “stress ball shaped like a pinecone,” which, honestly, felt fair.)
No, Cole had something else in mind.
He stole the gifts because he was tired.
Tired of being ignored.
Tired of being blamed for “the printer acting haunted.”
Tired of employees submitting IT tickets that said “My computer is broken” with no further detail.
Cole realized something:
No one appreciates IT until everything breaks.
So, in a stroke of genius fueled by caffeine, sleep deprivation, and passive-aggressive resentment, Cole staged a crisis big enough to force the entire staff to recognize his value.
He disabled the storage area’s security sensors, rerouted the internal logs, and moved the gifts into a hidden server closet — the one no one dares to enter because the air conditioner makes it sound like a dying walrus.
Then he sent the taunting note, sat back with his energy drink, and waited.
The moment panic circulated through Snowcap Industries, you walked in with your new intern badge and ruined his entire plan.
You pieced together the truth Cole tried to mask with smug laughter and cryptic references to “layer seven user errors.”
You cracked the final code.
You opened the last lock.
And there — stacked neatly, untouched, and humming with the faint buzz of server electricity — were the missing Snowcap Signature Gifts.
Still wrapped.
Still intact.
Still entirely unnecessary for Cole’s “IT Appreciation Campaign.”
The Aftermath
When confronted, Cole sighed dramatically and admitted everything with the confidence of a man who knows he’s “mission critical to system operations.”
Raven Frostwell was… not amused.
HR immediately drafted a 14-page disciplinary report.
Legal joined the video call in record time.
And Facilities simply said, “We knew it.”
Cole was put on administrative leave but agreed to return after mandatory training titled:
“How Not to Create Workplace Crises: A Guided Seminar.”
To his credit, Cole did apologize.
Sort of.
Mostly he said, “If people submitted better tickets, none of this would have happened.”
Which… checks out.
Case Closed
The gifts were returned.
Morale was restored.
The office party resumed with slightly more alcohol than originally planned.
And you — yes YOU — solved the case that baffled everyone else.
Congratulations, Intern.
Snowcap Industries owes you one.
Raven Frostwell even put your name on the “Employee Recognition Board,” which is basically the Snowcap equivalent of a Nobel Prize.
You saved the party.
You solved the case.
And best of all?
You helped HR sleep at night.
