Chapter 3

3

【Retribution Countdown: 00:02:15.】

Willow Linden was standing at the entrance of Apex Media's headquarters. She held an employment contract in her hand.

A six-figure salary and a Senior Manager title. It was everything she wanted.

All it cost her was the career of her best friend.

"Sarah was going to get fired anyway," she muttered to herself for the tenth time that hour. "I just made sure her work didn't go to waste."

People are amazing at justifying their own cruelty. As long as the lie is big enough, they can sleep at night.

She signed her name on the final page with a flourish.

"Welcome to the team, Willow," the HR director started to say.

【Retribution Countdown: 00:00:10.】

The heavy doors of the boardroom burst open. The Vice President of Apex Media stormed in, holding a tablet.

He looked like he wanted to kill someone.

"Willow Linden. What is this garbage?" he barked, throwing the tablet onto the table.

The proposal she sold them was useless. Kevin had botched the data when he tried to hide Sarah's tracks.

Any professional could see the flaws in five minutes.

And there was more. Apex Media's servers had just been flagged by an automated industry watchdog.

All the materials Willow submitted―including her "original" research―matched Sarah's cloud drive.

Sarah had always kept her files in a shared drive. Willow used to laugh at her for it.

"Why keep everything here? Someone could steal it," Willow had asked.

Sarah's answer was simple: "If I ever drop dead from overwork, I want the company to be able to finish the job."

Sarah was a fool, but she was a fool with a timestamped record. Every download Willow had ever made was logged.

"Miss Linden," the VP said coldly. "Your contract is void. Furthermore, we are filing a police report for corporate fraud."

Willow's hands began to shake. "No, wait! I can explain!"

"Don't bother. We're sending a memo to the entire industry association. Good luck finding a job at a lemonade stand."

The industry blacklist. It was a professional death sentence.

She stumbled out of the building and frantically dialed my number.

"Sarah! Sarah, where are you?" she sobbed. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for it to go this far!"

"You didn't mean to get caught," I said, my voice as cold as ice. "Do you really think I'm going to forgive you?"

"We've been friends for years, Sarah! Please!"

"Did you ask yourself that before you sold me out for a paycheck?"

I hung up.

The system cleared her name from the list. Her retribution was complete.

But my screen was suddenly flooded with new timers.

Megan Leigh: 18 minutes. The lazy designer, Chloe: 27 minutes. The HR gossip, Josh: 45 minutes.

Seven timers, all ticking in unison.