When Lily heard my ultimatum, she froze for a second, then, as if a switch had been flipped, she erupted into a new, more spectacular round of
sobbing.
“George, so it was true all along! I was the third wheel!”
In that moment, the inferno of my rage was doused by the sheer absurdity of her logic. I almost wanted to applaud her. Her talent for self- delusion was truly world–class.
The conference room was silent save for the sound of Lily’s dramatic, hiccuping cries. The expressions on the faces of the judges and our competitors were a priceless mix of shock, barely suppressed laughter, and, in one case, the tell–tale glow of a smartphone recording the who- le debacle.
George’s face had moved beyond pale; it was a shade of mottled, catastrophic gray,
I didn’t wait for his response.
“Mr. Cole, you handle this mess,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “As for the lawsuit and my resignation, we’ll discuss it back at the office.”
With that, I turned to my devastated team. “Let’s go.”
Back at the company, a funereal gloom had settled over the tech department. The news had clearly traveled fast. The core engineers who had been with me for years had red eyes–not from crying, but from pure, unadulterated fury.
“Sophie, all those years…” one of the younger programmers choked out, unable to finish.
I put a hand on his shoulder, a heavy weight in my own chest. “Our work was desecrated. That’s not our fault.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured them. “I will fight to get every single one of you the compensation you deserve.”
Just then, George returned, looking utterly defeated. Lily was nowhere in sight, probably stashed away somewhere to cry in peace.
He walked straight into my office, his voice hoarse. “Sophia…”
“Former secretary,” I corrected him without looking up. I slid a freshly printed resignation letter across the desk. “Sign it, Mr. Cole.”
“Also, here’s my lawyer’s card. He’ll be in touch with the company’s legal department regarding the lawsuit against Miss Evans.” George stared at the letter, his hand trembling slightly. He didn’t move. “Sophia, I know Lily went way too far. The damage is done. But a lawsu-
it…”
“She probably had no idea how important those documents were. You know how her mind works…”
He trailed off, then let out a bitter, humorless laugh. He rubbed his temples as if trying to keep his head from exploding, then picked up the pen and signed the letter.
“Tell me, Sophia,” he said quietly, “would you call this… being blinded by love?”
I picked up my signed resignation, my ticket to freedom, and gave him a cool glance.
“Mr. Cole, I won’t comment on your personal life. But from a business perspective…” I paused. “Out of respect for your parents, I’ll consider taking on some of the company’s tech maintenance contracts, on a case–by–case basis.”
“Of course, my rates are high, but I guarantee you’ll get what you pay for.”
George looked like he had just swallowed a bug.
As I reached the door, I added one last thing. “By the way, Mr. Cole, the next time I’m here, I expect a professional environment. No distractio- ns. Especially not from the ever–so–helpful Miss Evans.”
Walking out of the Cole Corporation building, the sunlight felt sharp and cleansing. The suffocating weight in my chest finally began to lift.
06
On my first day of unemployment, I slept until noon.
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No waking up at dawn to prepare George’s meeting briefs. No bracing for a surprise ambush from Lily. No sifting through emails filled with co- mplaints about dead plants and office morale.
It was glorious.
I leisurely made myself a pour–over coffee. The moment I took the first sip, my phone began vibrating off the hook.
99+ unread messages. A dozen missed calls. All from headhunters and the executives I’d spoken to at the gala.
Mr. Sterling from Sterling Industries was the most direct, calling me immediately.
“Sophia! I heard you finally escaped that madhouse! Come to Sterling! The VP of Technology position is yours for the taking.”
“Double your old salary, company car, penthouse apartment, build your own team! And most importantly, our office has good feng shui. We absolutely do not attract Cinderellas with screws loose!”
Mr. Davison from Apex Electronics was just as eager, sending a heartfelt message.
“Sophie, I heard about that disaster at Cole Corp. You didn’t deserve that. Come work with me, my dear. Chief Scientist. No fixed hours, name your own salary. All I ask is that you pop in occasionally to guide our less–than–brilliant project teams.”
Thanks to someone’s live stream of the pitch–turned–meltdown, even a few media companies tried to get in on the action.
“Ms. Reed, have you ever considered building a personal brand? That whole ‘tech–goddess–slaying–the–drama–queen‘ vibe is pure gold for soci- al media! We can package you as the icon of the new, independent woman!”
I had to laugh. Thanks, but I had no plans to become an influencer.
I switched my phone to silent, and the world was blissfully quiet again.
After a peaceful breakfast, I began methodically replying to the offers. Most I politely declined. For a few of the more interesting opportunities, I proposed a “project–based collaboration.”
Now that I was a free agent, why would I ever chain myself to a desk again? Besides, charging by the project, I could earn more than I ever did before, with none of the drama. It was a win–win.
Of course, I didn’t forget about Cole Corp.
That afternoon, I sent a proactive email to George’s assistant, outlining a menu of “Technical Support Services” I could provide. The attached, price list featured numbers so dazzling they were guaranteed to make George’s eyes water.
Less than thirty minutes after I hit send, my personal cell phone rang. It was George.
He sounded exhausted, but he still managed a weak attempt at humor.
“Consultant Reed, this price list of yours… is this based on some new, hyper–inflated industry standard I’m not aware of?”
“You get what you pay for, Mr. Cole,” I said cheerfully. “If you think it’s too expensive, you can always find someone else. Perhaps the very eager Miss Evans? Maybe she can power your servers with the sheer force of her love.”
There was a three–second pause on the other end. I could almost hear him inhaling through the pain of a migraine.
“Send me your bank details. We’ll go with your rates.” He sighed. “Compared to the loss from the failed bid, it’s a bargain.”
See? Once a man breaks free from the fog of a bad romance, his business sense comes roaring back.
When the wire transfer notification hit my phone, my mood soared even higher.
Meanwhile, back at Cole Corp, things had apparently descended into chaos.
When Lily found out that I had really resigned and that George was actually proceeding with the lawsuit against her, she reportedly had a full- blown meltdown. Then, she launched her grand, disastrous “Redemption Tour.”
First, she marched into the tech department to “boost morale,” and in the process, almost shut down a server running critical code.
Next, deciding the office atmosphere was too “depressing,” she bought dozens of colorful potted plants–all new “Faiths“-and placed them everywhere, doubling the janitorial staff’s workload.
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She even tried to give the marketing department a new slogan for their latest product: “Powered by Love, Illuminating Your World.” The head of marketing tearfully begged George to make her stop.
George’s new full–time job, aside from cleaning up the catastrophic mess from the leaked project data and wiring me obscene amounts of money for consulting, was following Lily around the office, putting out the fires she started..
According to my sources still inside, the once cool and aloof CEO now wore a permanent expression of weary resignation, a man who had
seen too much.
“Sophie,” my friend whispered into the phone, as if she were a spy behind enemy lines, “do you think the stress finally broke him? Like, is his brain okay?”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.
07
My new life was thriving.
I turned down all full–time offers and founded my own tech consulting firm.
I called it “Nexus Innovations.” Simple, modern, and to the point.
On opening day, the flower arrangements sent by Mr. Sterling, Mr. Davison, and other industry titans lined the hallway from my office door all the way to the elevator bay. It looked like a Fortune 500 company launch. Mark, my former department head, along with a few other loyal engi- neers, had quit Cole Corp and joined me without a second thought.
Our first major contract, as fate would have it, was for the very project Cole Corp had lost.
The new client’s project lead shook my hand, a knowing look in his eyes. “Ms. Reed, your former boss might have a few screws loose, but we have total faith in your technology.”
I texted a summary of that conversation to George. A long time later, he replied with a single, eloquent line of periods. …
The project progressed flawlessly, and the profits were intoxicating.
Occasionally, I would deign to accept a contract from Cole Corp. Each visit was strictly business. I made appointments, signed in at the front desk, and swiped a visitor’s pass. I billed by the hour, and if I went one minute over, the invoice was in George’s inbox before I’d even left the
building.
The receptionist at Cole Corp started looking at me like I was a savior. My arrival meant that the dreaded Miss Evans would be banned from the premises for at least half a day, granting the entire company a few precious hours of peace.
George’s demeanor toward me now was one of utmost professionalism.
One day, while I was performing an emergency security patch on their system, he was watching over my shoulder and suddenly asked, out of the blue, “Sophia, do you think it’s too late for me to take some classes, learn some of this core tech stuff?”
I didn’t even look up from my screen. “Mr. Cole, with all due respect, your business acumen and management skills are top–notch, despite your once–questionable judgment in personal matters. Why would you want to compete with us grunts? Just stay in your corner office, be the boss, and pay people like me to solve your problems. Isn’t that easier?”
He was clearly taken aback. “Right. Leave it to the professionals. It’s just that the professionals are getting… professionally expensive.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Inflation is a killer, you know.” I hit the final keystroke with a satisfying tap. “There. The vulnerability is patched. Total service time: 3 hours and 52 minutes. Billed as 4 hours. The invoice will be sent shortly.”
“For a basic bug like this next time, I’d recommend hiring a full–time security engineer. It would be more cost–effective than calling me.”
George’s mouth twitched. “A full–time engineer wouldn’t be as efficient as you.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “How about a friends–and–family discount?”
I offered him a thin smile. “Mr. Cole, we maintain a cordial ex–employer–employee relationship, as well as a thriving client–vendor partnership. Let’s not complicate things by talking about friendship. It’s better for both of us if we just talk about money.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but couldn’t find the words.
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09.50 1
Life continued in this new rhythm: Nexus Innovations raking in profits while Cole Corp stumbled along in a state of Lily–induced chaos.
Finally, the court date for the lawsuit arrived.
The trial was, without a doubt, the single most surreal experience of my life.
Lily insisted on representing herself.
The moment the judge declared the court in session, she shot to her feet, tears already streaming down her face before she’d spoken a word.
“Your Honor! Members of the jury!” Her voice was choked with the tragic grief of a woman fundamentally misunderstood by the world. “I adm- it, I sent out those files! But it wasn’t theft! And it wasn’t a leak!”
“It was a rescue mission! I was saving George and the Cole Corporation from a toxic influence! I was exposing the dark underbelly of office politics and breaking the chains of capitalism that were strangling true love!”
Me: “…”
My lawyer: “?”
The Judge: “0.0”
“Ms. Evans,” the judge said slowly, “please confine your statements to the facts of the case.”
This only seemed to energize her. “These are the facts!”
“Sophia Reed used her position to psychologically manipulate George for years! She held him hostage with that project!”
“I released the data to expose her for who she truly is, to set George free! It was an act of justice! I did it for love!”
She even tried to show the judge screenshots from her phone of an article titled, ‘One Hundred and Eight Seduction Techniques for the Ambit- ious Secretary.‘
“Your Honor, look! This is evidence! I’m sure she used every trick in the book!”
The judge’s expression was a masterclass in strained neutrality. My lawyer was shaking so hard trying not to laugh, he looked like he was vibra- ting. I remained stone–faced, thinking only one thing: this lawsuit was worth every penny of the legal fees.
In the end, while the court found it difficult to prove malicious intent–mostly because Lily seemed to genuinely believe she was the hero of the story–the crime of trade secret infringement was undeniable and the evidence was irrefutable.
The court found Lily Evans guilty, and given her apparent cognitive state and the massive financial damages she had caused, sentenced her to one year in prison, suspended for two years, and ordered her to pay a hefty sum in compensation to Cole Corporation.
When the verdict was read, Lily’s eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn’t seem to process it.
“How could this happen?” she muttered. “I was just fighting for my love… none of you understand…”
After the trial, George looked at the shell–shocked Lily, sighed, and walked over to her.
“I’ll pay the compensation for you,” he said quietly. “On one condition: you leave this city. Get a fresh start, live a normal life, and stop… getting lost in your own head.”
Lily looked up at him, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. “George, are you abandoning me too? But I still believe… true love conquers all…” George just rubbed his temples and walked away. He had probably, finally, learned that some people are beyond waking up.
With Lily–the company’s single greatest liability–out of the picture, Cole Corporation slowly began to get back on its feet. The damage was severe, but the foundation was still strong. George threw himself into his work, becoming a soulless automaton of efficiency. I heard he’d deve- loped a severe case of “White Dress PTSD” and would instinctively maintain a ten–foot distance from any woman wearing one.
Months later, I ran into him at an industry summit. He looked much better, though there was a lingering shadow of someone who had been through a war.
He saw me and walked over, raising his glass. “How have you been?”
09:50
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म
09:50
I smiled. “Couldn’t be better, thanks to you. Business is so good, my hands are getting tired from signing contracts.”
“And you’re looking well, Mr. Cole,” I added. “There’s a clarity in your eyes I haven’t seen in a while.”
He laughed, a dry, self–deprecating sound. “It came at a steep price.” He paused, his tone becoming more serious. “Listen, about all that… insa- nity. I never properly apologized to you. And thank you, for still being willing to help pull Cole Corp qut of the fire.”
“I’ll always be grateful for what your parents did for me,” I said honestly. “But business is business. You’re one of my VIP clients now, Mr. Cole. Keeping the client happy is just good policy.”
George chuckled. “It’s an honor to be one of your clients, Sophia. A very, very expensive honor.”
We clinked our glasses, sharing a smile. All the past chaos and drama seemed to melt away, transformed into a wild story we could someday tell over drinks.
I heard later that Lily’s relatives came and took her back to her hometown. She left with her dog–eared copy of a romance novel called The CEO’s Defiant Love. Some time after that, someone spotted her working in a small–town coffee shop, enthusiastically regaling the young baris- tas with her “legendary tales of battling for love in the trenches of a global corporation.” She told the story with such conviction that she had them completely captivated.
As for me, Nexus Innovations became a powerhouse, our client list expanding overseas. Mr. and Mrs. Cole still call me sometimes, just to chat. They never brought up George and me again; they were just genuinely happy for my success.
Once, Mrs. Cole confided in me, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You know that boy of mine, George? All he does is work. Says he needs to save up to afford your consulting fees. I think that whole ordeal left a permanent mark on him!”
I leaned back in my chair, laughing.
Sunlight streamed through the floor–to–ceiling windows of my office. On my screen, a new, multi–million dollar contract had just been finalized.
I took a sip of my coffee.
I hadn’t just torn up the villainess script they’d handed me.
I’d used the scraps to write my own damn epic–a blockbuster where the heroine ends up with a thriving empire and a life of her own making.
And it felt pretty damn good.
(The End)
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