Chapter 3

Walking into the office the next day, I could hear the buzzing from the breakroom from far away.

I pushed the door open with my mug in hand, and the chatter instantly died down.

Someone cleared their throat. Someone pretended to look down at their phone.

"Did you hear? The one who tried to sleep her way to the top completely crashed and burned."

"She always acted so holier-than-thou, but who knows what she was really doing in the boss's bed."

"Too bad for her. Jessica actually earned her A+ with real skill."

"Man, do you think she just got too old and her tricks in bed stopped working?"

I stood frozen. My nails dug into my palms inch by inch, but I couldn't feel the pain.

Jessica was walking over, hugging a stack of project proposal binders. The binders were the heavy duty kind, with sharp metal corners.

"Vivian, you're here."

"I really felt awful about what happened yesterday. You have more seniority than me, and winning against you made me feel like I did something wrong..."

"But there are still a lot of questions I need to ask you. I don't understand these Kingsburg materials. Could you teach me?"

She held the heavy stack of metal-bound binders out in front of me with both hands, holding them there for a full five seconds.

I reached out to take them. The very second my fingertips brushed the bottom, she suddenly let go.

The twenty-pound stack of binders crashed down. The sharp metal corners slammed into the back of my hand.

My flesh tore open instantly. A line of dark red beads of blood splattered across the carpet.

I inhaled sharply, breaking out in a cold sweat from the excruciating pain.

Jessica froze for a half-second before clutching her own wrist, her eyes immediately welling up.

"Vivian... why, why didn't you catch it securely?"

"It's my fault. The binders were too heavy, and my wrist has been acting up..."

Her tears fell, her voice trembling.

"My grip just slipped... I'm sorry, I'm really sorry..."

The eyes of everyone around us immediately snapped over.

"She just asks for advice, and Vivian drops the files on purpose? So petty."

"Pulling this kind of petty crap just because she lost a promotion. So ugly."

"What is going on here?"

Arthur walked briskly down the corridor.

His gaze swept over the mess on the floor and finally locked onto the bleeding back of my hand.

His jawline tightened, and his foot subconsciously took a step forward.

At that moment, I truly believed he was going to walk toward me first.

"I just wanted to ask Vivian for advice, but she didn't catch it securely..."

Jessica's voice rang out. She was clutching her wrist and sobbing, looking utterly pitiful.

"I didn't..."

"Did you hurt your wrist?"

Before I could finish, Arthur abruptly stopped in his tracks, cut me off, and turned to look at Jessica.

Jessica sniffled, holding out her perfectly fine wrist. "It hurts a little. I might have sprained it..."

Only then did he turn his gaze to me. His eyes lingered on my bleeding hand for half a second.

Once again, I subconsciously thought he was going to say something, but the words he spat out were as cold and hard as iron.

"Clean up this mess."

"Arthur..." I opened my mouth, looking at the gash on my hand that was deep enough to show bone.

"Stop making a scene. Go to the infirmary and get that taken care of."

His voice was completely flat, devoid of any emotion.

I looked at him from three steps away. He was so familiar, yet he felt like a complete stranger.

I parted my dry lips, but ultimately clenched my jaw.

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

Whatever. He wasn't going to listen to anything I said anyway, was he?

The blood was still dripping. I braced one hand on the floor and, enduring the piercing pain, picked up the files one by one.

When I returned from getting stitches at the infirmary, Jessica was no longer at her desk.

On my desk sat an unopened tube of imported antibacterial ointment, pinning down a sticky note.

[Remember to apply this.]

Familiar handwriting.

I picked it up, took one look, and threw it into the trash can by my feet.

My computer screen woke up, and my task list popped up, filling the entire screen.

That project analysis Jessica was supposed to do was in there too.

Arthur had approved a full day of paid leave for her.

I stared at the screen. The back of my bandaged hand throbbed with every keystroke, and fresh blood started to seep through the gauze.

The sky outside the window slowly darkened.

At exactly six o'clock in the evening, I typed the final line.

I closed the report, opened the HR backend system, and typed two words on a blank page:

Resignation Letter.