Stolen Work, Lost Love

Three days after my ruined birthday, I sat at my desk trying to focus on work rather than the hollow ache in my chest. Gabriel and I had barely spoken since our confrontation about the Stellar Tech proposal. He'd been 'busy'—a word that now carried the scent of Isabella's expensive perfume.

A shadow fell across my keyboard. I looked up to see Gabriel standing there, an elegantly wrapped box in his hands, tied with a silver ribbon.

'Happy belated birthday,' he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. 'I'm sorry about the other night. This should make up for it.'

I took the package, noting its substantial weight and the designer logo embossed on the wrapping paper. My colleagues' eyes were on us—Gabriel making a grand gesture in the middle of the office. Always performing.

'Open it,' he urged, checking his watch. He had somewhere else to be, of course.

I carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a caramel-colored leather handbag with gold hardware. It was beautiful, undeniably expensive, and hauntingly familiar.

'It's the Bellamy tote,' Gabriel said proudly. 'Limited edition.'

My stomach twisted as recognition dawned. Last month, Gabriel had taken Isabella and me to Nordstrom, supposedly to 'catch up.' I'd watched as she tried on this exact bag, examining it with critical eyes before declaring it 'too basic' and moving on to something more expensive.

'You don't like it?' Gabriel frowned, noticing my expression.

'It's Isabella's reject,' I said quietly, so only he could hear. 'The one she didn't want.'

His face flushed, then hardened. 'Don't be ridiculous. I bought it because it's your style.'

But we both knew the truth. I was getting Isabella's leftovers—in work, in Gabriel's attention, and now in birthday gifts. I placed the bag on my desk, unable to look at it anymore.

'Thank you,' I said mechanically. 'I have a deadline.'

Gabriel hesitated, perhaps waiting for more gratitude, then turned and walked away. Through the glass walls of his office, I watched him pick up his phone, his face softening as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. I didn't need to guess who.

---

The following week brought a new level of sabotage. I'd spent three weeks compiling research and creating slides for our presentation to Westridge Media, a potential client that could double our annual revenue. The presentation was scheduled for Monday morning, and I'd planned to spend Sunday finalizing everything.

When I logged in remotely on Sunday afternoon, my blood ran cold. The entire folder—over thirty meticulously designed slides—was gone from the server.

I frantically searched through backups, archived folders, even the trash. Nothing. With shaking hands, I called our IT manager, who confirmed the worst: the files had been deleted Friday evening. According to the log, the user was 'i.hayes.'

When I called Isabella, her voice dripped with practiced innocence. 'Oh my god, Lily, I'm so sorry! I was cleaning up some old files and must have deleted yours by accident. You have backups, right?'

I didn't. Not of the final versions.

For the next forty-eight hours, I barely ate or slept. Fueled by rage and determination, I reconstructed every slide from memory and scattered notes, my eyes burning as dawn broke on Monday. The presentation went flawlessly—the client never knew the difference—but as I walked out of the conference room, the exhaustion hit me like a physical blow.

Isabella was waiting in the hallway, her expression a perfect mask of concern. 'Brilliant presentation, Lily! You'd never know you had to redo it all. You're just so...resilient.'

The word felt like an insult in her mouth. I walked past her without responding, knowing this was just the beginning.

---

Three days later, I arrived at the office early to prepare for our meeting with Stellar Tech—the account Isabella had stolen with Gabriel's help. As I stepped off the elevator, I noticed unusual activity in the main conference room. Through the glass, I could see David Vance, Stellar Tech's CEO, already seated at the table alongside Gabriel and Isabella.

The meeting wasn't scheduled until 10 AM. I checked my watch: 8:07.

I rushed to the conference room, my heart pounding. Gabriel looked up as I entered, his expression flickering between surprise and annoyance.

'Lily,' he said smoothly. 'We weren't expecting you yet.'

'The meeting was rescheduled,' Isabella added, not meeting my eyes. 'I sent an email last night.'

But there had been no email. No notification. Nothing.

David Vance nodded at me, his sharp eyes taking in the tension. 'Ms. Chen. I was just telling your colleagues how impressed I am with the initial concepts.'

My concepts. My work. Being presented without me.

I took a seat at the far end of the table, watching as Isabella stumbled through explanations of strategies she barely understood. Each time she faltered, Gabriel jumped in, covering her mistakes with smooth corporate jargon. But I noticed Vance's attention shifting to me, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as the charade continued.

In that moment, something crystallized within me. This wasn't just about a boyfriend's betrayal anymore. This was about my professional life—my identity—being systematically dismantled. And for the first time, I began to wonder if staying and fighting was worth it at all.