"We've already broken up." My voice was eerily calm, even to my own ears. "I'm going to abort it."
I looked her in the eye. "Please. Do not tell him I was here today."
It took some effort, but I finally persuaded her to leave. Once I was alone with the doctor, I didn't waver.
"An abortion is hard on the body," he warned. "Are you certain?"
I nodded without hesitation. I booked the procedure for that afternoon.
But fate had other plans.
Midway through the wait, my phone rang. Mr. Swanson, my boss.
"There's a critical error in the project handover documents," he barked.
Panic surged through me. I rushed back to the company, reviewing the files from top to bottom. Sure enough—a massive loophole. Thankfully, my habit of backing up everything saved me. I located the missing data and patched the file.
By the time I finished, the sun had set. The hospital was already closed.
As I gathered my things, Valerie Dickerson sauntered up to my desk. She rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with disdain.
"So careless. Who knows what disgusting means you used to get that director position in the first place?"
I hadn't eaten all day. My stomach was already churning, and hearing her voice made the bile rise in my throat.
I gripped the edge of my desk, knuckles turning white, and fixed a cold stare on Valerie.
"Don't think I don't know you tampered with my computer last night. Once we pull the surveillance footage, we'll see who the disgusting person really is."
Her smirk faltered.
Moments later, Bonnie Barber sent me the security clip she'd quietly retrieved. It captured Valerie clearly—sneaking over to delete my files.
Confronted with the evidence, Valerie didn't even try to deny it. She just lashed out. "Bitch! You're just a damn nepotism hire!"
Something inside me snapped.
I didn't think. My hand moved on its own.
*Smack!*
The sound of my palm connecting with her face echoed through the silent office.
Five years of suppressed grievances erupted. Tears streamed down my face, though my expression remained stone cold.
"I went through three rounds of interviews for this job," I said, my voice trembling with rage. "Every result, every performance metric—I fought for it. I woke up early. I stayed late."
I stepped closer to her.
"From start to finish, my conscience is clear. What right do you have to treat me like this?"
The last sentence wasn't just for Valerie. I was screaming it at Matthew James.