Chapter 2

"Here, I bought you coffee, an unsweetened Americano."

Vivian stood in front of my desk, smiling gently, holding a Starbucks cup.

With her other hand, she lightly rested against my shoulder.

"I thought about what happened yesterday all night. It really was the call from upstairs. I fought for you."

I took the coffee.

"Thanks."

"What you said yesterday… about the shirt." She lowered her voice and leaned in. "My boyfriend happens to have the same one. We just ended up in matching clothes, so don’t overthink it."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, we’ve only been dating two months. We haven’t made it public yet." She winked. "I’ll introduce you someday."

"Okay."

She walked away smiling.

I took a sip of the coffee.

Americano, but with sugar added.

I never put sugar in my Americano.

She remembered that Henry drank less-sweet lattes, but she couldn’t remember my taste.

At ten in the morning, my coworker Zoe passed by my desk, put down a stack of files, and said quietly, "Director Wendy, there’s something I don’t know if I should tell you."

"Say it."

She looked around and pulled me into the break room.

"That layoff list… I saw three versions on the printer."

"Three versions?"

"The first version had 15 people, and you weren’t on it. The second had 20 people, and you were eighth. The third one is the current one, with 23 people, and you’re first."

"Who changed it?"

"Vivian. All three versions’ edit logs are under her account. Every time someone got added—" Zoe bit her lip, "it was always someone you brought up."

I said nothing.

"And there’s one more thing." Zoe lowered her voice. "Did you see last week’s annual department evaluation report?"

"I submitted it."

"Not your version." She pulled out her phone and showed me a screenshot.

On the screen, under the department evaluation section:

"Wendy: average coordination ability, domineering management style, poor team cohesion. Recommend salary reduction, transfer, or optimization."

A red X was marked after my name.

"Here’s another section for job recommendations." Zoe turned to the next page. "Vivian wrote that her assistant, Emma, should take your place. Someone who’s been here less than half a year."

"When was this report submitted?"

"Two weeks ago. Three days before the layoff list."

"Is the original report still in the system?"

"Yes. But the permissions were changed. Only Vivian and the admin can see it. I found it when IT restored a batch of files during system maintenance last week."

Zoe looked at me.

"Director Wendy, she did this on purpose."

I knew that.

At noon, Vivian came to find me again. She sat across from me and put a chicken wing into my bowl.

"Wendy, eat more. You’ve lost weight lately."

"Mm."

"How about hot pot tonight? Let’s call Henry too. We haven’t gotten together in a long time."

"He’s working late tonight."

"Then it’ll just be the two of us." She took my hand in hers. "Wendy, no matter what happens, you’re my best friend."

Her palm was warm. The same temperature as when Henry had squeezed my fingers last night.

"Vivian."

"Hm?"

"That new boyfriend of yours. What does he do?"

Her eyes flickered.

"Finance."

"Which company?"

"A small company. You wouldn’t know it."

"What’s his name?"

"Wendy, why are you so interested in my boyfriend?" She smiled. "Jealous?"

"Just asking."

In the afternoon, I went into HR’s shared folder.

I didn’t have admin privileges, but the backend entry for the old system hadn’t been closed yet.

Three minutes later, I found every file Vivian had submitted.

Besides the altered evaluation report, there was one more thing.

The title was: "Core Employee Seating Adjustment Plan."

The content was simple: move Wendy’s desk from the eighth-floor department area to the third-floor administrative area. The reason given was "optimizing office space."

Third-floor admin. Next to the bathroom drainpipe, with no windows.

She had even planned where I would sit.

At the bottom of the file was a note. It wasn’t Vivian’s handwriting.

"Confirmed with HR. Execute next Monday. — Henry"

Henry.

My husband’s name appeared on a file that moved me next to the bathroom.

I opened the company directory and searched for "Henry."

One result.

Finance Department. Senior Finance Manager. Start date—two years ago.

Two years ago, he told me he was switching to an investment company.

"The company’s not big. You wouldn’t know it even if I told you."

It was exactly what Vivian had just said.

He had been working at my company for two years. In the same building.

I was on the eighth floor, and he was on the tenth. Between us was the ninth floor—HR, Vivian’s floor.

My phone rang. Henry.

"Babe, what do you want for dinner tonight?"

"...Anything’s fine."

"What’s wrong with your voice?"

"Just a little tired."

"Then get off work early. I’ll be waiting for you at home."

I hung up.

Then I pulled up the screenshot of that message from midnight.

"Project Team - Kevin." Hubby. She won’t get a chance to turn it around. Don’t worry.

Kevin.

"Vivian, you really are something."