Chapter 2 Caught in His Own Trap

Ricky greeted me with an eager smile, but I could see how his eyes kept drifting past my shoulder and scanning the apartment.

"Mike! There you are. I was starting to think you weren't home."

Before I could answer, he squeezed past me as if the place belonged to him and carried the whiskey and takeout straight to the table.

"I figured we could celebrate tonight. Your final promotion review is tomorrow, and you've already come in first in both the technical evaluation and the project presentation. At this point, that Chief Engineer position is basically yours for the taking."

He grinned as he unpacked the food. Then, he uncorked the bottle of whiskey and poured me a generous glass.

"I'm happy for you, man. Seriously. That's why I picked up some good whiskey and dinner. We might as well celebrate early."

The sharp smell of alcohol quickly filled the room.

I put on a pleasantly surprised expression. "Ricky, you really didn't have to do all this. Nothing's official yet."

"Come on. I know what you're capable of." Right on cue, he sighed and let his expression fall. "I only came in second on the technical evaluation, and I messed up part of my presentation. I'm pretty much out of the running."

I almost laughed at his face. 'Out of the running? Please, we both know that you think that's never going to happen. After all, you're planning to knock me out of the running tonight.'

Instead, I clapped him on the shoulder and gave him the same reassuring smile I had given him in my previous life. "Don't talk like that. Besides, it's not like I'm going to forget the guy who's had my back all these years if I do get the promotion."

Ricky's eyes immediately brightened. "That's what I wanted to hear."

He picked up my glass and held it toward me. "Come on. Drink up. You'll be walking out of that office as Chief Engineer tomorrow."

I accepted the drink without hesitation. "To good luck."

Then, I tipped my head back and made it look as though I had drained the entire glass. In reality, I raised my arm just enough to block Ricky's view and let most of the alcohol run down the inside of my shirt.

Still, what mattered was that the glass was empty when I lowered it.

The satisfaction that flashed through Ricky's eyes was impossible to miss.

"Damn, Mike. Since when can you drink like that? Eat something before you give yourself an ulcer."

He pushed one of the takeout containers toward me before immediately reaching for the bottle and filling my glass again.

I played along with him for the next 30 minutes.

I laughed at his jokes, listened while he flattered me, and pretended to finish another three or four drinks.

However, I found a way to get rid of most of the liquor without him noticing every single time. Some soaked into a carefully placed towel, some disappeared into my sleeve, and the rest ended up on the clothes I'd hidden beneath the table.

At the same time, I made sure Ricky saw exactly what he wanted to see. I'd drunk enough to keep my cheeks flushed. Then, I made sure to droop my eyelids as I started slurring my words.

"Ricky... I'm done." I let my upper body collapse across the table with a heavy thud. "Can't drink anymore..."

Then, I went completely limp.

The room stayed silent for several seconds.

That was when Ricky started nudging my shoulder. "Mike?"

I didn't move. Instead, I made sure to answer him with a low, uneven snore.

Another moment passed before the friendly mask on Ricky's face finally disappeared.

Ricky gave a short, contemptuous laugh as he kicked the leg of my chair. "What a piece of shit. You really think you deserve to stay ahead of me forever?"

The tenor of his voice had changed completely, stripped of every trace of warmth.

"You've been top dog long enough, Mike. It's my turn now. Once you're disqualified tomorrow, I'll move up from second place." A smug laugh followed his statement as he declared, "That Chief Engineer position is mine."

I stayed facedown on the table and listened to every word.

Meanwhile, the backup phone beneath the pile of papers was recording every single word he was saying, his resentment, his motive, his plan. Every word was being captured clearly.

A moment later, Ricky moved away from the table and stopped beside my bed.

I heard the frame shift as he lifted the platform and pulled out the storage box where I kept my old project documents.

Ricky waited for a few seconds to confirm I was still unconscious before reaching into his jacket and pulling out three printed documents. The covers prominently showed the words "Core Project Proposal: Strictly Confidential."

Then, he smoothly slipped all three sets beneath the legitimate files at the bottom of the box without even a sliver of hesitation in his movements.