Donna worked faster than the FBI. Half an hour later, my phone buzzed.

A link. And her snark: [Presenting the performance of the year from our fake-sweetheart actress. Evidence chain so airtight I feel guilty charging you full price. Enjoy.]

I tapped it open. Abigail's public account.

Front and center: a close-up of her wrist flaunting the MK bracelet I knew by heart.

Caption: [The moon is coming to you, MR. K.]

My "Baby Moon."

My MK bracelet.

Now paraded around as someone else's prize.

Expressionless, I kept scrolling.

One shot—our study. Abigail cupping her face, smiling like butter wouldn't melt, with my rare Italian architecture books stacked in the background.

Caption: [Soaking up knowledge in MR. K's study, I feel like I'm improving too!]

Next—her holding a pen over a blueprint. Not just any pen—the limited-edition one I gave Matthew for his thirtieth.

Caption: [The pen MR. K gave me is amazing. He said my hands deserve the best.]

Then our favorite restaurant, table lined with my go-to dishes.

Caption: [Our secret spot. He said I'm the only one who makes him feel truly at ease.]

Each post cut deeper, turning memories into blades.

Then came the kicker—three days ago. Abigail, grinning with a printed draft.

Caption: [MR. K stayed up late helping me revise this. He said I'm the most inspired designer he's ever seen and that I'm sure to win the Horizon Spire project. Fighting!]

Horizon Spire.

Dreamforge's crown jewel. Six months of my life. My career's milestone.

I shot off the couch, grabbed my keys, and stormed out.

The office sat empty at this hour. I pressed my fingerprint to the lock and headed straight for Matthew's office.

His computer lit up with our wedding photo as the screensaver. His smile—soft, tender.

It made me sick.

I tapped a key. Password box popped up. My birthday? Wrong. Our anniversary? Wrong again.

I smirked and typed in Abigail's birthday.

[Welcome.]

The desktop was spotless, except for one folder screaming at me. Encrypted. I clicked. Inside—Dreamforge's Horizon Spire plan, finalized. Every line, every detail, six months of my team's blood and sweat.

Beside it sat another folder, marked with just two letters: AB.

I opened it.

The design was basically ours—just tweaked in a few key spots, enough to dodge patents but still scream Dreamforge.

At the bottom: one word. [Abigail.]

He hadn't just cheated. He was handing over my work—our future—like a stepping stool for his side chick.

Bile crawled up my throat. I gripped the cold desk, holding myself upright.

Turns out jealousy and betrayal can warp a guy till he's unrecognizable.

The Horizon Spire bidding hall buzzed like a hive.

I slid into a corner, eyes locked on Nebula Studio's rep.

Abigail.

Gone was her sweet intern act. Today she strutted up in a power suit, hair pinned tight, makeup on point—like she actually belonged here. Cute.

She took a breath.

"My inspiration came from the eye of the city. We hope this won't just be a cold structure, but a living body that breathes with the city and bears witness to its growth..."

Yeah. My words. My nights, my caffeine, my bloodshot eyes. Every line I'd whispered to Matthew when I still thought he was on my side.

I used to think those words were our deepest connection.

Turns out, it was just me talking to myself while he quietly pocketed everything.

My gaze landed on the judges' table, and wow, the irony stung.

Matthew sat there like some VIP—perfect suit, perfect hair, playing the part of the golden boy. He leaned forward, nodding along like Abigail was reciting scripture. The way he looked at her? Pure pride. A look he never once wasted on me.

To him, I was scenery. Background noise.

My phone buzzed. Donna.

[Want me to crash this with a baseball bat?]

I smirked and tapped back: [Hold tight.]

Onstage, Abigail hit her big finish. The screen lit up with my renderings—straight off my stolen files.

The room gasped. Then came the applause, loud enough to rattle the walls.

The host beamed. "Thank you, Ms. Barne. Now, let's hear from our special guest judge, Dreamforge Studio's own Mr. Matthew Kein."

The mic landed in his hand.

He gave Abigail that soft look, the kind he'd never wasted on me. "Honestly? I'm impressed. Ms. Barne's design balances artistry and practicality perfectly. Those adjustments to the structure? Bold—truly INSPIRED."

Inspired. His little dagger of a word.

He let the pause drag, scanning the crowd like a king on parade.

"I believe this work is today's clear winner."

Applause crashed again, louder, sharper.

My heartbeat drowned everything else out.

The host grinned, clutching the mic. "Thank you, Mr. Kein, for such high praise! Looks like Nebula Studio's the clear frontrunner. Any questions for Ms. Barne?"

Silence.

Matthew's seal of approval was gospel. No one dared push back.

Abigail beamed like she'd just been crowned.

I slid my phone away and stood. Chairs squeaked, claps stalled, every head swiveling my way.

The host blinked. "And you are...?"

Matthew's smile locked in place.