Chapter 3

The blue light from my laptop screen felt like needles in the dark.

I rubbed my aching eyes and typed out the final line of the proposal.

It was my third all-nighter in a row. My temples throbbed, and my throat felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

My phone lit up, and Jamie's message popped up. [Is the proposal ready? We need it for the 9 am meeting.]

I glanced at the time—3:17 a.m. Yet Jamie's tone was so matter-of-fact, like staying up all night for work was just a given. I felt suffocated.

I replied: [Just finished. Sent to your email.] My fingers hovered, then I added: [Mind if I come in a little late tomorrow? I've got a splitting headache.]

The message was quickly read, but Jamie didn't reply. Ten minutes passed. Just as I was shutting down my laptop and thinking I might finally get a few hours of sleep, my phone buzzed again. [Mr. Sandoval specifically asked for you to be there. Don't be late.]

I stared at the message, feeling like the cotton in my throat had swelled and choked off my breath.

So much for the doctor-recommended rest.

*****

The next morning, I dragged myself into the office, every step heavier than the last. Jamie was already in the conference room, prepping for the presentation.

He was perfectly put together in his navy suit, hair slicked back, laughing and chatting with Quinn Sandoval like nothing in the world could go wrong.

"Sandra, there you are," Jamie said, glancing up before going right back to his notes. "Sit over there. We're about to start."

I walked to a seat in the corner and sank down quietly. One by one, the department heads filed in. Across from me, I noticed Oliver flipping through the meeting packet.

"Alright, everyone. Today I'll be presenting the full proposal for our new project," Jamie announced, standing confidently in front of the screen. "This plan was the result of two weeks of teamwork and strategic thinking…"

My fingers tightened around my sweater.

Teamwork? For the past two weeks, I'd been the only one staying up, grinding through every version, every detail.

The projector came on. It was the exact file I sent Jamie last night, untouched. Not even the formatting was changed.

Except now, the cover page that once said "Creative Department: Sandra Kendall" had been swapped for "Project Team: Jamie Stanton".

"Our core concept is to create a fully immersive user experience…" Jamie spoke smoothly, like every word was his.

I sat frozen in the corner, the cold creeping up through my spine. It wasn't the first time he'd taken credit for my work, but this was the boldest.

The room filled with applause. Executives nodded. I might as well have been invisible.

"This user analysis is especially sharp," Quinn praised. "Jamie, your team really delivered."

"Thank you, sir," Jamie replied with a polished smile. "We definitely put in a lot of effort."

Just then, Oliver's deep voice cut through the room. "Funny. This user analysis is almost identical to what Sandra shared with me last week."

The room went silent. All heads turned. Oliver leaned back in his chair, calm and composed, his gaze locked onto Jamie.

"Is that right?" Quinn turned to me, intrigued. "You worked on this too, Sandra?"

My throat tightened. Jamie shot me a warning glare across the table, telling me to stay quiet.

"The creative team… helped a little," I heard myself say, dry and robotic.

Oliver's brows drew together slightly. He didn't push it but for the rest of the meeting, I felt the weight of his gaze on me now and then—not judgmental, but questioning, as if he was asking why I had let Jamie take my credit.

*****

At noon, the company threw a small launch party for the project. I'd planned to quietly skip it with the excuse of not feeling well, but Jamie's assistant practically dragged me into the restaurant.

"Miss Kendall, Mr. Stanton said you have to be there," Daniella whispered. "Seems like some important clients will show up."

Inside the private dining room, glasses clinked and laughter echoed. Jamie stood at the center like the guest of honor, surrounded by flattery and fawning smiles. I chose the furthest seat in the corner, sipping ice water slowly and silently praying it would end soon.

Just then, a voice came. "Sorry, I'm late!"

I recognized the voice instantly. The glass I was holding almost slipped from my fingers.

Louise swept into the room in a fiery red dress and a pair of high heels.

Her eyes found Jamie instantly. She walked straight to him and slipped her arm around his, her affection clear before everyone.

"Louise? What are you doing here?" Jamie's smile faltered for just a second.

"You said I should come meet your coworkers, remember?" she purred sweetly, then turned to the group. "Hi everyone, I'm Louise Reese—Jamie's childhood sweetheart."

She added extra emphasis to the last two words, her gaze sliding over to me provocatively.

The atmosphere grew tense. Colleagues shot glances at me, then looked away just as fast.