The Prize Box Betrayal

The moment my message went out, Vanessa Sloane's light, careless voice drifted over again.

"Evan, it's the company's annual gala. Don't ruin everyone's fun.

"Ryan drew that kiss fair and square. Who are you making that face for?"

My gaze moved to the raffle box in front of Ryan Mercer, and my blood seemed to chill inch by inch.

At tonight's gala, every employee had one chance to draw a prize.

But the raffle box in front of Ryan had clearly been made for him alone.

Every prize inside it was mine.

My salary. My bonus. My position.

Even my girlfriend.

And I had known nothing about it.

Until this very moment, everything I had was being handed away through his little raffle.

"Vanessa, I don't care what kind of prizes you want to give him. But why are all the prizes things that belong to me?"

Vanessa froze for half a second. Then she straightened, even more self-righteous than before.

"I'm the CEO of this company. I can put whatever I want in the raffle.

"Besides, what have you contributed to this company? Why should you get that huge year-end bonus? Why should you keep sitting in the vice president's chair?"

I almost laughed from sheer anger.

I had contributed nothing?

Had she forgotten I was the top salesperson in the entire company?

For years, I had trained myself inside this unimpressive little subsidiary under my family's group. I stayed up all night writing proposals, drank through client dinners until my stomach bled, and went to the emergency room more times than I could count.

That was how I had earned the vice president title and the $300,000 bonus.

And now she wanted to give all of it to Ryan.

"Don't be mad, Evan."

Ryan smiled at me with open provocation.

"Blame my luck. I somehow drew all your things. But... I'm not done drawing yet."

As he spoke, he reached into the raffle box again.

Someone beside him leaned over curiously. "Reward: spend New Year's Eve with CEO Sloane, to be handled however you wish..."

"Whoa, what does 'handled' mean? In bed or out of bed?"

"Obviously in bed. Assistant Mercer, you'd better think hard about how you want to 'handle' her."

Crude laughter burst out around us.

Ryan took advantage of it and wrapped an arm around Vanessa's waist.

"Vanessa, how should I 'handle' you tonight? Like last time in your office, or do you want to try something new? Don't worry. No matter how much you beg, I promise tomorrow you won't even be able to stand straight."

Vanessa's cheeks flushed. She laughed softly and shoved him, coy and indulgent.

"Stop saying that. It's embarrassing."

The laughter around them grew louder.

Only I stood there, pain stabbing through my chest again and again.

The glass in my hand shattered with a sharp crack.

The sudden sound made the room go still.

Only then did everyone remember that I, the official boyfriend, was still standing there.

A flicker of discomfort passed through Vanessa's eyes. She came over and reached for my hand.

"Evan, you're not angry, are you?

"Ryan is young. He doesn't understand certain things. Of course I have to teach him myself.

"We slept together, but we're still innocent. Be generous. Don't be such a sore loser."