Chapter 1

I never imagined my husband of five years would hand my painstakingly crafted branding plan to an intern who'd been with the company for just two weeks.

I had poured my heart and soul into that plan, but Elliot Kline didn't see it.

Watching Yvette Atkins present my work at the monthly meeting felt like ice water dousing me. Betrayal stung deep.

The colleagues below the stage looked at her with admiration, while the supervisor nodded in approval.

Some even whispered about how extraordinary Yvette's creative talent was.

From the back of the room, I looked at the girl seven years younger than me.

Dressed in a neat suit, she gracefully pointed to the projection screen and explained "her" creative ideas to everyone.

Elliot sat at the front, beaming with pride, as if he'd discovered a prodigy. He even praised her publicly, calling her a rare creative star everyone should emulate.

My fists clenched under the table, my nails nearly digging into my palms.

After the meeting, I stormed into Elliot's office.

His face still glowed with excitement. He was oblivious to the gravity of his actions.

"You saw that? Yvette has got real talent. That plan was incredible," he said, his eyes sparkling.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "That was my plan."

He froze, then waved it off. "About that. Look, Yvette is new. She needed a chance to prove herself, so I gave her your plan to practice with."

His indifference grated on my nerves.

That plan took me three days and nights of hard work. He just turned it into a practice run for an intern.

"Do you have any idea what this plan means to me?" I asked sharply. "It was for the Veriania Creative Competition."

His smile froze, but he soon regained his usual nonchalance.

"You win awards every year, so what's the big deal letting her have it once?" he said. "Besides, that was just an internal presentation, not the actual competition."

A fire burned in my chest, and my blood boiled in my veins. I snapped, "What do you take me for?"

My sharp tone startled him, and a flicker of unease crossed his face. "Come on. Yvette is just a girl fresh out of the irony tower. I'm doing this to help her grow."

I turned around and left, unwilling to hear his excuses. He called after me, but I didn't turn back.

...

The next morning, I avoided leaving at the same time as Elliot.

Once at the company, I headed straight to my personal studio, a space Elliot had set up for me to showcase my creative works and awards.