Chapter 3

This was how Olivia came to work at the company.

A year and a half ago, we were looking for interns.

HR dropped a bunch of resumes in the group chat, telling each team to see if anyone caught their eye.

One resume was nothing special. She went to a regular college, majoring in marketing.

But there was a line in the notes: [Has experience running social media, once grew an account to 50,000 followers.]

I thought that girl got something.

On the day of the interview, Olivia showed up in a crisp white shirt, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

She looked clean and confident, and spoke with clarity and confidence.

I asked her, "What's your biggest strength?"

She paused for a moment, then said, "I pick things up fast, and I'm not afraid of hard work."

I told HR, "Let's keep her."

Olivia was truly capable during her three-month internship.

Whenever I assigned her a task, she always delivered on time. never needed a reminder.

I took her to meet clients, walked her through making proposals, and helped her revise her reports.

She called me Emma.

Every time I taught her something, she'd take careful notes.

After work, she'd bring me a cup of coffee.

"Emma, caramel macchiato, your favorite," she'd say, handing it to me.

I thought she was a good girl, hardworking and considerate.

When her internship was over, I wrote her a recommendation letter.

She stayed on and joined the marketing department.

I thought it was just a story of looking out for a newbie.

Everything changed three months ago.

That night, I worked late. When I went to the parking lot to get my car, I noticed Maxwell's car was still there.

Someone was sitting in the passenger seat.

It was Olivia.

She was resting her head on his shoulder, smiling.

Maxwell leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

I stood about thirty feet away, gripping my keys tight in my hand.

The wind whipped through the parking lot, and the lights kept flickering.

I watched them for five seconds.

Then I turned around and left.

I couldn't sleep that night.

It wasn't pain or heartbreak.

It was a strange feeling.

It felt like someone had stabbed me in the back, and when I looked down, I saw my own name engraved on the blade.

I was the one who hired Olivia.

I was the one who taught her how to handle proposals.

I was the one who helped her secure her spot at the company.

Now she was in his car, resting her head on his shoulder.

I remembered when Olivia first started at the company, she once asked me, "Emma, are you and Maxwell pretty close?"

I replied, "We were college classmates."

She smiled and said, "That explains it. You two really click."

Now, I realized that she must've started sizing us up back then.

I taught her how to put together proposals, and she was already probing about Maxwell and me.

I wrote her a recommendation letter, and before I knew it, she sat in Maxwell's passenger seat.

She kept bringing me coffee every day. "Emma, caramel macchiato."

Her smile never changed, still as sweet as ever.

I could throw up right now.

*****

After what happened in the parking lot, I didn't confront Maxwell.

I didn't reach out to Olivia either.

I kept telling myself, maybe I was mistaken.

Maybe they just happened to be going the same way.

Maybe that kiss was nothing but...

I was just fooling myself.

For the next month, I started to notice things.

I wasn't out there playing detective or anything.

But once you started paying attention, some things would glare at you.

Three days ago, Olivia shared a coffee cup pic on her feed.

I could see a hand behind the cup, definitely a man's hand.

He was wearing a watch.

That was Maxwell's Longines watch, the one his mom got him for his birthday last year.

I was the one who helped him choose it.

On his birthday, his mom called me up, wanting my opinion.

"Emma, do you know what brand Maxwell likes?"

I told her, "Longines. He's always had a thing for their classic styles. I remember he was eyeing one at the mall."

His mom laughed, "Wow, you really know him."

Now, that same watch was popping up in Olivia's feed.

I kept scrolling.

A week ago, Olivia posted a photo of a windowsill.

There was a pot of pothos sitting on it.

That windowsill and pothos showed it was Maxwell's apartment.

I stared at that photo, and my hands went numb.

She'd been over to his place.

No, it wasn't just once.

She was there all the time.

The angle was so casual, like she just snapped it right after waking up in the morning.

She woke up at his place.

I set my phone down.

I picked it up again.

Then, I set it down again.

That afternoon, I headed over to HR.

"Is there still a spot for the overseas scholar program?" I asked.

Alex from HR looked up at me.

"Emma, didn't you say you weren't interested?" Alex asked.

HR let us know about the spot three months ago.

It was a one-year visiting scholar program at Tunias Institute of Technology.

I turned it down back then.

Back then, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind.

But now, I changed my mind.

"I've decided," I told Alex.

"The spot's still open. If you're ready, I'll handle the process for you," Alex said.

"I'm ready," I replied.

My voice stayed calm as I said it.

But after leaving HR, I made it to the stairwell and just crouched down, unable to stand any longer.

I didn't cry.

My legs felt like jelly.

My phone buzzed.

Maxwell texted me.

[Emma, how's the proposal coming along? Mr. Thompson's really pushing for it.]

I stared at his text.

Fifteen seconds later, I replied: [I'm working on it. You'll get it tomorrow.]

He just sent an "OK" emoji back.

That was it.

He didn't know I'd just signed the paperwork for going abroad with HR.

He didn't know I'd seen Olivia's photos on social media.

Even he didn't know I'd seen what happened in the parking lot three months ago.

He only knew one thing—he'd have the proposal in his hands tomorrow.

The 12-million-dollar Vertex Technologies proposal with his name on the cover.