Chapter 3
Lucy's face turned beet red in an instant.
She clearly didn't see that coming from me.
Everyone in the office was staring at us, and I could practically feel the sparks flying in the air.
"You're just taking it out on me. I'm telling George!" Lucy screamed, jabbing her finger right in my face.
"Go ahead," I replied coolly, turning back to my computer.
Lucy stomped her foot and stormed off toward George's office.
It wasn't long before the phone on my desk rang: George was calling.
"Molly, come here," he said, his voice weary and irritated.
I put my work aside and headed into his office for the second time today.
"What are you doing now? Why won't you let Lucy into the shared folder? Are you trying to tank this project or what?" George barked at me.
I said, "She can have the files. But I organized all the raw data for this project. If Lucy wants to use it, she needs to put in a request, spell out what data she wants and why, and sign off on it.
"If anything goes wrong because of how she uses the data, she'll take full responsibility."
My demand was totally fair and by the book.
George was totally stumped by what I said.
He knew the days of me handing over everything without a second thought were long gone.
"Fine. Do it your way!" he snapped, waving me off.
Lucy reluctantly signed the form, clearly annoyed, and only then did I hand over the files.
I made sure to back up all the original files on my personal hard drive before sending her just the parts she needed.
I had a feeling this whole mess was far from over.
For the next few days, Lucy was unusually quiet, but she kept the final plan for the client tightly under wraps. No one else on the team got a peek.
She claimed it was going to be a surprise for the client.
That sense of doom in my gut just kept growing.
On Friday afternoon, the client's complaint went straight to the VP's office.
Rumor had it, the VP was so mad that his face turned green.
George called me in right away.
His office door was wide open, and Lucy was standing inside, her eyes red, looking like she'd been wronged by the whole world.
"Molly!" George snapped the moment he saw me. He slammed a pile of documents right in front of me and barked, "Just look at what you've done."
The papers were scattered across the floor, and on top was an A4 sheet with a financial figure circled in bright red, which practically jumped out at me.
The number had an extra zero added, making it way higher than the original.
George said, "This is the final proposal we sent to the client. Because of the incorrect data you provided, we almost cost the client millions. Now they're reconsidering working with us." His voice was shaking with anger.
I bent down to pick up the document. Staring at that wrong number, my mind went totally blank.
That number didn't come from me.
"I didn't provide that data," I said, looking up at George.
Lucy snapped, "Not you? You gave us all the raw data. Who else could it be? Molly, I know you don't like me, but you can't just play games with the company's project. You're putting the whole department at risk."
She put on a perfect show, her words dripping with emotion, and those tears started rolling right on cue.
George glanced between us, but it was clear: the trust in his eyes had already tipped completely toward Lucy, the 'wronged pregnant woman.'
He didn't give me a single chance to defend myself.
George jabbed his finger at me and barked, "I don't want to hear any excuses! The facts are right in front of me. Because of your major screw-up, the company is issuing an internal warning and cutting your entire bonus for this month.
"You need to seriously reflect on what you've done!"
That afternoon, a harshly worded disciplinary email was sent out to the entire company, putting me on blast.
Now I was the scapegoat, the one everyone blamed for almost costing the company millions because of my supposed carelessness.
When I went to the break room to get some water, I overheard Lucy and a few colleagues gossiping loudly.
Lucy said, "Some people think they can strut around just because they've been here forever. Well, looks like someone finally got knocked down a peg."
Someone chimed in, "Yeah, with her bonus gone, let's see if she can still act all high and mighty."
A few people snickered in agreement.
My fingers tightened around the cup.
Jane, one of the old-timers, happened to walk in. She saw me and overheard their gossip.
But she didn't say anything. She just filled her cup, her eyes full of complicated sympathy as she looked at me.
I walked past them, expressionless, cup in hand.
Frustration, anger, disappointment: all of it was boiling inside me.
All those feelings were a storm raging in my chest.
But I knew it was pointless to say anything now.
Without any proof, all my explanations would just sound like desperate excuses.