Chapter 2

I didn't lose my temper on the spot.

My coworker, Leo, hadn't locked his computer screen, and his Snapchat window was still open.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down.

My fingers flew across the keyboard.

Using Leo's account, I compiled the entire chat history and emailed it to my personal address.

The whole thing took less than thirty seconds.

Humming a tune, Leo walked back from the restroom and picked up his mug.

"Hey, Chloe, need me to grab you a coffee from downstairs?"

I forced a smile and shook my head. "No, thanks. I'm good."

Once he walked away, I opened the email.

The group had been created three years ago.

It was during my second year at the company.

I scrolled through the messages, line by line.

The earliest record was from our manager, Harrison Vance.

"How’s the rookie working out?"

Someone replied, "Chloe? She's great. She practically begs to take over our workloads."

"She’s a pushover. Perfect for taking the fall if anything goes wrong."

Harrison replied with a satisfied emoji.

As I kept scrolling, it was all work.

Whenever someone messed up, they blamed me. Whenever they had tedious work, they dumped it on me.

They stole my ideas. They took credit for my achievements.

And I, like an absolute idiot, had been working myself to the bone in the web they spun.

I had genuinely thought I just wasn't trying hard enough, which was why I never got promoted.

Turns out, I was just their convenient, unpaid slave.

The chat logs felt like physical blows to my chest.

Three years ago, during the company's annual reviews.

My KPIs were the highest in the entire department.

But Harrison told me in the meeting, "Chloe, you're still new. You need more grooming. Let's give this opportunity to the seniors first."

I believed him.

I even thought he was looking out for me, protecting me from getting arrogant.

But in the Snapchat group:

Harrison: "We can't give the $15,000 annual bonus to Chloe."

A coworker asked: "Why? Her performance was the best."

Harrison: "She has no background. Even if we give it to her, she might leave. Let's give it to Maya instead. Her uncle is an executive at one of our partner firms."

So, the outstanding employee of that year became Maya.

With the $15,000 bonus, she treated the entire department to a dinner at a high-end steakhouse.

Except me.

She said, "Chloe doesn't really like loud social events. Let's not bother her."

That night, I was working overtime at the office, revising a proposal they had casually thrown at me.

I ordered myself an $8 convenience store sandwich.

Two years ago, there was an opening for a supervisor position.

I spent three months preparing for it, revising my presentation over a dozen times.

Everyone thought the position was mine.

In the end, it went to Maya again.

Harrison called me into his office. "Chloe, you have great technical skills, but you lack leadership experience."

"Just wait a bit. You’ll get the next one."

I believed him again.

But in the chat logs:

The night before the presentation, Maya wrote in the group, "Manager, I'm so nervous."

Harrison replied, "Don't worry. I've already talked to the executives."

"Just read Chloe’s report tomorrow. I already told her to send you the final draft."

So that was it.

I had hand-delivered my own promotion to someone else.

And I had even thanked Harrison for "mentoring" me.

My blood ran cold.

I kept scrolling.

Last Thanksgiving, my mom had to undergo major surgery.

I asked for three days off.

Harrison only approved one.

He said, "The project is at a critical stage. You can leave after you finish this."

I had no choice but to book a red-eye flight, running back and forth between the hospital and the airport.

I slept for less than five hours over three days.

My mom held my hand from her hospital bed, tears in her eyes, aching for me.

But in the Snapchat group:

On the day I took leave, Harrison sent out a virtual cash gift.

"Guys, holiday is here! Company’s paying, let’s go to the hot spring resort!"

The group exploded with cheers.

Maya asked, "Didn't Chloe say her mom is sick?"

Harrison replied, "It's fine, just a minor surgery. Work comes first, she knows her priorities."

They traded my mother's health for their luxury vacation.

I closed the email.

My vision went blurry.

Five years.

I had been nothing but a joke in this company.

***

### Chapter 2