Chapter 2

The next morning, the office was a pressure cooker. Emily, glowing from her win, was tasked with sending out the finalized summit presentation to our key overseas investors. It was a file I had spent the last two months perfecting.

An hour later, David stormed over to my desk, his face dark with fury. He threw a tablet down in front of me. "What the hell is this, Sarah?"

On the screen was a garbled mess of a file. The formatting was destroyed, images were missing, and entire sections of data were corrupted.

"This is what Emily sent to our Tokyo investors," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. "They think we're a joke. This is your project. Why is it a disaster?"

Emily was right behind him, her eyes wide with fake tears. "I'm so sorry, David. I just sent the file Sarah gave me this morning. I don't know what happened."

The accusation hung in the air, thick and poisonous.

I took a deep breath, refusing to let my hands shake. I looked from David's angry face to Emily's deceptive one. "I didn't give her the file this morning, David. I finalized it last night and saved it to the shared server, in the 'Final Presentations' folder. I sent an email to the entire marketing team, including Emily, with the correct file path."

I turned to my computer, my fingers flying across the keyboard. I pulled up the server logs. "The file I saved is timestamped at 10:47 PM last night. It's perfectly fine." I opened it. The presentation was flawless.

"The server also shows," I continued, my voice cold and even, "that Emily downloaded a draft version from her personal temp folder at 8:15 AM this morning and sent that one. You can see the file name in her sent mail."

I brought up the email she sent. The attached file was named `Summit_Pres_DRAFT_v2.pptx`. My final version was `Global_Summit_FINAL.pptx`.

The proof was undeniable. Emily had screwed up. Badly.

She started to cry. "I'm so new to this… I must have gotten confused. I'm so, so sorry."

I waited for David to apologize to me. I waited for him to hold Emily accountable.

He didn't.

He turned to me, his jaw tight. "You're the head of the department, Sarah. You should have personally supervised her. This is still your responsibility. You will work all weekend to fix this. You will call every investor personally and apologize for your department's mistake. And you're off the summit backup list. The budget for your trip is canceled."

He was punishing me. For her mistake. In front of everyone.

He then turned to Emily, his voice softening instantly. "It's okay, Em. It was a simple mistake. We all make them. Don't worry about it." He guided her away from my desk, his hand on her back, murmuring comforting words.

I just sat there, the blood pounding in my ears. I didn't say a word. I just stared at my screen until the letters blurred. I didn't let the tears fall until I was locked in a bathroom stall, my body shaking with a silent, wracking sob. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest.

Later that day, at the all-hands meeting, David stood at the front of the room. "I want to give a special shout-out to Emily," he said, beaming. "Despite a small technical hiccup this morning, her quick thinking and hard work were instrumental in preparing the summit materials. She's proven to be an invaluable asset to this team."

He was giving her credit for my work. My two months of sleepless nights, my painstakingly gathered data, my perfectly crafted slides. He stole it and handed it to her on a silver platter.

The team applauded. Some of them looked at me with pity. Most just looked at David, eager to please the boss.

I felt a different kind of pain then. It wasn't just about the job or the trip to Hawaii. It was about the blatant injustice of it all. To me, he was all business. Deadlines, responsibilities, consequences. To her, he was all personal. Excuses, comfort, rewards.

The coffee I was sipping suddenly tasted bitter, and it had nothing to do with the beans. It was the taste of my life, of my love, of my hard work being devalued right in front of my eyes.