Chapter 22
The following morning, summer rain peppers my umbrella as I trudge to work, my brain buzzing with half-baked schemes to unmask Tim’s true intentions.
At the anniversary party, he had practically announced that Jake would never get the promotion, his smug confidence sending alarm bells ringing through my head.
Whatever his plan is, it can’t be good for Jake or his career.
Since my stubborn ex-boyfriend refuses to listen to reason, it falls squarely on my shoulders to pry—no, investigate the matter.
I need solid evidence—something irrefutable that even Jake can’t dismiss with that irritating head shake he does when he thinks I’m overreacting.
Watch and wait—that’s my only real option.
Sooner or later, Tim will slip up, revealing his hand like the villain he is.
I just have to be there to witness it, ready to pounce like a cat on a particularly juicy mouse.
My first order of business would be chummying up to him enough to make him drop his guard and forget I’m even paying attention.
The rain intensifies, and I dodge puddles that threaten to ruin my favorite ankle boots. But tiny droplets splash against my calves regardless of my careful footwork.
I’m halfway through the main lobby, my umbrella leaving a trail of miniature lakes behind me, when Amanda’s voice cuts through the ambient chatter.
“There you are,” she calls from my right.
I pivot to face her. There’s something especially unsettling about Amanda today.
Her crooked expression reminds me of when my mom caught me with my hand in the cookie jar when I was a kid.
She seems way too pleased with herself, as if she’d won first prize at the county fair and can’t wait to show off her blue ribbon.
“Judy wants to see you,” she says.
My stomach clenches into a tight little ball.
In my limited experience at Lanter Bridge, impromptu meetings with Judy rarely end with high-fives and congratulatory cupcakes.
And Amanda’s politeness only appears when she knows she has the upper hand, her fake courtesy more alarming than outright hostility.
After a moment’s hesitation, I force my feet to move, following her toward the elevator bank. My anxiety mounting with every second, I ride the elevator beside her, maintaining as much distance as the small metal box allows.
“What’s this about?” I ask as she casually leans against the wall, my finger nervously twisting a strand of hair that escaped my rushed morning styling.
“You’ll see,” she replies, her smile widening.
Despite my best attempts to pry more information from her—including outright asking if I’m in trouble—not a single additional word passes her lips.
My mind reels with possibilities, each scenario worse than the last. I’ve been careful since the anniversary party fiasco, keeping my interactions with Jake minimal and professional.
There was yesterday’s car ride, but nobody could have known about that.
The snooping incident, the most likely cause of this summons, plays back in my head as Amanda catches me glancing nervously at her. I haven’t found anything incriminating yet, and she has no concrete proof of what I was really doing in that conference room.
The elevator chimes our arrival, doors sliding open to bustling tenth floor.
We make our way through the maze of cubicles, Amanda leading confidently while I trail behind like an anxious duckling.
Rounding the corner to my workspace, I freeze mid-step, the blood draining from my face as I process the scene before me.
At my desk, Judy stands next to Tim, both of them intently examining the contents of an open folder he’s holding. As I watch in growing horror, she nods repeatedly while he gestures emphatically, clearly explaining something that has captured her complete attention.
I try to swallow, but my mouth goes dry.
They’ve done something—orchestrated some kind of ambush.
My career might be imploding before my eyes, and the worst part is that I have no idea what prompted this intervention.
No matter how hard I wrack my brain, I can’t figure out what crime I’ve committed this time.
Without knowing the charges against me, defending myself will be like trying to hit a target blindfolded—painful, embarrassing, and almost certainly doomed to fail. I take a deep breath and force myself to close the remaining distance to my desk.
“Miss Lake,” Judy says, sliding off her designer glasses and letting them hang from a delicate chain around her neck. “Something troubling has been brought to my attention.”
I glance at Tim, whose facial expression is a mirror image of my father’s when he caught me sneaking in past curfew after midnight swims with Jake at the lake.
Without further explanation, Judy pulls several papers from the folder and hands them to me, her manicured nails briefly grazing my trembling fingers.
“Is this your doing?” she asks, one eyebrow rising.
I flip through the campaign ideas I created at Tim’s request. “Yes,” I say, confusion evident in my tone. “Is there an issue with these?”
Judy puts one hand on her hip, her posture shifting into full principal-scolding-student mode. “Are you aware of our company’s policy regarding the use of AI?”
Her words carry a good measure of accusation, but what’s that got to do with anything?
“Yes, ma’am. It’s not allowed.” I’ve memorized the employee handbook after my first day on the job.
The policies are etched into my brain at this point.
Lanter Bridge prides itself on pure human creativity—no AI shortcuts allowed when it comes to campaign development.
It’s actually one of the things I admire about this agency the most.
Tim clears his throat, his expression painfully self-righteous. “The email you sent me triggered a plagiarism alarm.” He points to the graphics he specifically instructed me to improve. “The images you provided bear an uncanny resemblance to a campaign of one of our competitors. Recreated with AI.”
My mouth falls open, and words elude me.
The setup is so cunning I almost want to applaud his deviousness.
When I look up at Tim, his face is nearly blank—nearly, except for that tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, fighting to contain what can only be a victorious smile.
How did I not see this coming? I focused so much on his play against Jake that I missed the one aimed at me.
Bastard.
“I didn’t know, I swear it,” I say, turning to Judy with desperate eyes. “Tim said to use these specific graphics. I can show you the email.”
Rushing to my computer, I frantically click through my inbox, searching for the smoking gun that will exonerate me. My fingers tremble across the keyboard as I scan email after email. Nothing. The email has vanished into the digital ether, as if it never existed.
With growing dread coiling like a snake in my stomach, I realize what this means. Only someone with IT clearance could purge an email so completely. Does Tim have that kind of pull behind the scenes?
“Mrs. Hawthorne,” I plead, my voice cracking around the edges, “I swear to you—“
“Spare me your excuses, Miss Lake.” Her stern voice silences me at once.
“First, you hide your former relationship with Jake, and now you resort to using AI.” She shakes her head, disappointment radiating from her in waves so tangible I can almost feel them washing over me.
Something about her expression—like I’ve personally betrayed her trust—makes my lower lip tremble.
“I’ve never been so wrong about anyone in my life, Miss Lake.
Congratulations—you’ve broken my streak of great hires. ”
Through the glass windows behind them, lightning flickers across the sky, throwing shadows across Tim’s unreadable face. By contrast, Amanda doesn’t even try to mask her delight, her smile growing wider by the second.
Thunder now booms, rattling the office windows.
Judy puts on her glasses with a practiced motion. “You’re suspended, Miss Lake. Effective immediately.”
“What?” This can’t be happening—not now of all times, not when I haven’t even exposed Tim’s plans.
“You broke our policy, not to mention put our reputation at risk.” She turns to Tim, already moving on to damage control. “Make sure IT performs a full audit. This cannot happen again.”
Tim nods solemnly. “Understood.”
My thoughts scatter like billiard balls after a break, dozens of defenses forming and dissolving before they can reach my lips. But what could I possibly say that would make her believe me over them?
“Miss Lake,” Judy adds, “don’t bother showing up to the client’s presentation next week. I’ll figure out what to do with you after.” She then strides past me, muttering something about regretting hiring me.
As soon as Judy is out of earshot, Amanda erupts into laughter.
“How could you?” I say, fighting to keep my tears at bay.
Tim doesn’t even acknowledge my question or my existence. He simply walks away, his mission accomplished, while Amanda lingers like the last stubborn guest that refuses to acknowledge the party’s over.
“Did you really think we’d let you stick around?” Amanda says, her voice laced with toxic sweetness. “You were in the way. We needed you gone.” She doesn’t even bother to hide behind pretense anymore.
Numb from head to toe, I gather my personal items—the framed photo of my parents, my emergency makeup kit, the little cactus that’s somehow survived my care. Other employees pretend not to stare as I walk toward the elevator, but I feel their eyes burning into my back.
I don’t even know how long it took me to walk back to my apartment, but when I get there, it’s hard to tell my tears apart from the rain dripping from my soaked hair. In the shock of it all, I forgot my umbrella.
I pace the small space, alternating between sobbing and fuming. Jake needs to know what happened. These people are playing dirty. With shaking hands, I call his number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Jake, it’s me,” I start, but the words tangle in my throat. I hang up and send a text instead: “I’ve been suspended. Tim set me up. Please call me.”
The walls of my apartment close in around me, each tick of the clock amplifying my isolation. All I can think about is going back home. After throwing essentials into my weekend bag, I lock up and head for the bus.
The storm has intensified, rain pelting the sidewalk in angry bursts as I huddle under the shelter of the bus stop. When it finally arrives, I sink into a seat near the back, resting my head against the cool window glass.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Jake?”