to be found snapped in half in the breakroom trash can. A crucial file for the new museum project, a project I was leading, was mysteriously corrupted the night before a maj

tiny cuts, designed to make me

rything on Chloe. Maybe you just misplaced the pen. Computers cra

n the sabotage itself. He was

weekend, when I saw her waiting for me by the building' s main entrance. Chloe wasn't alone. Sh

enough for a group of my colleagues leaving

ied to walk past them, to ignore her, b

hink you' re go

the screen already glowin

sweet. "I'm here with Sarah Miller, the architect who thinks her job

y. "Get out of my way, Chl

cting what's mine. You slithered your way into David' s company, i

n my fiancé's parents took pity on. You have nothing that he didn't give you. T

ing. People were stopping, pulling ou

rage. "This has nothing to do with David and me

friends grabbed my arms, holding me in place. Chloe slapped me hard acro

g to turn him aga

. Chloe ripped the purse from my shoulder, the strap breaking. She dumped its conten

d, still filming. She kicked my wallet with the toe of her expen

just watched, their phones held up like a wall between us.

h the pages, a cruel smile on her face. These wer

ome kind of genius. You know, David told me he' s the one who

ie designed to tear down the one thin

uggling against the hands that

u want to take his love, you want to take his parents' money. You want to take everything. But you won'

It was about money and position. I wasn' t just a rival for David' s

aid, my voice filled with a loathing that surp

vanished.

ysical pain was sharp, but the pain of the public humiliation, of the utter helplessness, was a deepe