Chapter 3

I placed the handover form on the conference table. Vivian's name was listed under Person in Charge of Catering. Marcus' name was under Approving Manager.

I handed him the pen. "Once you've reviewed it, sign it. The company's catering responsibilities will officially be transferred to you."

Without even flipping to the second page, he signed his name. "Why do you have to jump through so many hoops just to transfer a little responsibility? Don't worry. You won't have to deal with this anymore."

Without sparing it a single glance, Vivian snorted and flourished her signature across the document. I stored away the original signed handover form. After returning to my cubicle, I scanned the document and uploaded it to the company's records system.

…

In the two weeks that followed, the whole team descended into a state of indulgence. Nobody bothered taking their work seriously anymore. Every day, as soon as lunchtime rolled around, everyone gathered around Vivian's workstation to discuss which gourmet delicacies to order next.

From 300-dollar private chef bento boxes to 500-dollar Kaiseki meals flown in from another country and even 1,000-dollar caviar afternoon tea platters. In a mere fortnight, the 12 of them had racked up a combined catering bill of more than 60 grand.

I no longer took part in their discussions. Every day, I blended into the background and buried myself in my work. I carefully filed every bill by date and matched it against the corresponding meal order.

…

It was the last Friday of the month, and our department was holding its quarterly project review. Mr. Kincaid attended in person.

I booted up my laptop and prepared to present the new quarterly proposal I'd spent the last two weeks working on, only to discover that the entire folder had been emptied.

Before I could utter a single word, Vivian sauntered onto the stage and plugged in her flash drive.

The projector lit up, displaying the client outreach proposal I'd spent half a month putting together. Even the chart on the third page, which I'd painstakingly recreated using the clients' original data, was in the same place.

The only thing she'd changed was the author's name on the cover page. Her name was now on it.

I sprang to my feet and coldly demanded to know why she'd stolen my proposal. Vivian clutched the remote and looked at Mr. Kincaid.

Marcus beat him to it. "Cut it out, Claire. Vivian worked overtime on this for the last two weeks. I can vouch for her."

"The original file records are all in the company's system." I booted up my laptop. "We can pull it up right now and compare the creation timestamps."

"That's enough." Mr. Kincaid slammed his pen down on the table. "This project meeting isn't the place for you to fight over credit. You're excused. See me in my office later."

Not a single soul spoke up for me. The colleague who had asked me to help with her chart just yesterday kept his head down, fiddling with his phone.

The person beside him went so far as to offer round applause. "Vivian works so hard ordering lunch for everyone every day, and she still found time to put together a proposal. This is incredible work for a newcomer!"

I shut my laptop and left the conference room.

Before walking into Mr. Kincaid's office, I backed up all the version histories and access logs saved in the company system.

Mr. Kincaid walked in shortly after and tossed the performance review sheet onto the desk in front of me. "Out of the 13 employees in your department, the other 12 rated you unsatisfactory. You should take a good look at yourself and figure out where the problem lies."

I flipped through the pages one by one. The comments were almost identical—uncooperative and hostile toward newcomers.

"So what's your verdict?"

"Since you've gotten the lowest performance rating this month, your project bonus will be transferred to Vivian. She'll also be in charge of the client presentation next week. Hand over all your materials. Don't let this affect the project."

My fingers slowly tightened around the papers. They had stolen my proposal, and now they wanted me to pave the way for her as well.

"Please send me an official email confirming the bonus adjustment and project handover."

Mr. Kincaid looked up. "What, are you planning to file a complaint?"

"Since this involves my clients and bonus, I'd like to have a written record in case there are any disputes later."

He scoffed and sent the email right in front of me. After receiving it, I put away the performance review sheet, stood up, and left.

I stood in the hallway and took a few seconds to compose myself before walking back to my cubicle.

Just then, I received a message from Marcus. "Know your place. Don't make things even worse for yourself."