At the company's annual meeting, my promotion opportunity goes to an intern instead. I confront Mitchell Wilson, a manager, only to be publicly humiliated.

"The industry is in a slump, yet you have the best sales performance in the entire company. Who knows how you get your clients?"

I drank until my stomach bled and ended up in the hospital in the middle of the night. I have forced a smile while serving arrogant, sleazy executives. Yet, none of that feels as humiliating as this moment.

My ex-boyfriend looks at me gloatingly while holding the intern's hand as they plan a celebration party.

Before leaving, he mocks me, "Yvette is the Saccone Group heiress. Once her evaluation period ends, she will go back to inherit the company. Who do you think you are?"

I frown in confusion—I am the Saccone Group heiress.

"Wasn't Annabeth supposed to get promoted? How did a rookie intern who just joined the company leapfrog over her?"

"I thought she had it in the bag when she popped the champagne and treated the whole company to coffee. Turns out she's nothing but a joke!"

The murmurs around me made me want to disappear.

Yvette Saccone glanced my way, holding up a microphone as she spoke.

"I owe my promotion entirely to Annabeth's guidance. If she hadn't made me stay up late writing proposals, run out in the pouring rain to buy coffee, and forced me to apologize to her, I wouldn't be where I am today!"

I ignored her thinly veiled mockery and pushed through the crowd until I reached Mitchell Wilson.

"Yvette is just an intern. She doesn't even know the most basic negotiation techniques. How can she be promoted to team lead all of a sudden? I've been with this company for six years. I have the highest performance record and the most experience. Why is she the one getting promoted?" I argued.

To secure major contracts, I drank until my stomach bled and spent the night in the hospital, only to return the next day with medication in hand, smiling and drinking alongside clients.

I had signed performance-based agreements on my own initiative, working past one in the morning and returning to the office before five, pushing myself to the brink just to close deals.

The relentless grind had left me with chronic health problems.

Now, the project was complete, and every member of the team had received a bonus of 10,000 dollars because of my efforts.

What gave them the right to promote Yvette over me?

Faced with my questions, Mitchell frowned.

"You've been here six years without a promotion. Maybe you should look for problems within yourself. Questioning me won't help, got it? Besides, Yvette never boasts about her contributions. That's the difference between the two of you."

His words left me frozen in place. Before I could respond, he spoke again. His face was filled with disdain.

A malicious smile spread across his lips as he stepped closer, his gaze slithering over me like a cold, slimy serpent.

"Besides, everyone knows your performance comes from your messy private life. You use your body to curry favor with powerful clients. That's common knowledge, isn't it?

"Not long ago, Mr. Wilkins wore you out so badly you couldn't even get out of bed. You took a sick day, and even Preston wanted to break up with you. Our company doesn't condone that kind of behavior."

Preston Linley was my ex-boyfriend. He and I had shared an office romance.

The moment Mitchell mentioned him, he appeared from the sidelines and chimed in, "Annabeth isn't that kind of person. Even if she stays out all night drinking with clients behind my back and gives them her personal lingerie, she's still a decent girl!"

The moment he mentioned lingerie, whispers erupted among the onlookers. His words instantly sparked a chorus of agreement.

Cassandra Cole said it explained the love bites that were always visible on my skin, Mitchell remarked that it was no wonder I consistently secured the most contracts, and Yvette chimed in, saying that was why I had so much experience.

I was drowned in speculation. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I forced myself to explain, "That was because my clothes got soaked in the rain. The client kindly let me change in his office…"

The truth was that I had been set up.

He had taken advantage of the situation to steal my underwear, and I had only managed to retrieve it after calling the police.

I had been too ashamed to tell anyone. I had only cried to Preston for comfort, and now it had turned into a cruel joke.

I tried to defend myself, but no one wanted to listen.

They surrounded me, eagerly discussing my scandal.

Yvette even brought up my recent illness to mock me. "A stomach problem isn't that serious. I bet she had an abortion and didn't dare to admit it. Who knows whose child it was?"

I glared at her, disgusted by the smile on her face.

Not long ago, I had worked through the night to follow up on a project with Hector Group, worsening my stomach condition and landing myself in the hospital. Yet in just one night, Yvette had gone behind my back and pitched herself to the client online.

Harassed beyond endurance, the client eventually withdrew from the deal. Before leaving, he had warned me, "Has your intern been watching too many soap operas? Every time she sees me, she splashes red wine all over me.

"I've ruined more than thirty shirts and over a dozen pairs of pants because of her. Someone who's that unprofessional should be fired immediately."

I relayed his words to Yvette, advising her not to take such underhanded shortcuts. But instead, she had glared at me with tears in her eyes and snapped, "You're just jealous because I'm younger than you! An old hag like you couldn't sell herself even if she wanted to!"

At the time, I had dismissed her behavior as youthful ignorance and quietly cleaned up her messes behind the scenes. Even when she didn't know how to use the printer, I patiently taught her over and over again.

As it turned out, she believed I had slept my way to success and even gotten an abortion.

I let out a cold laugh and pushed aside the colleague shielding her. Reaching out, I gently straightened her collar.

"Yvette, speculating about me doesn't make you look any more respectable. If I were the team lead, you wouldn't even have passed your internship."

Yvette quickly countered, "But I'm the team lead now!"

"You can't even use a printer, drove away a client, and caused the company to lose a contract worth millions of dollars while making me take the blame. What gives you the right to be a team lead?"

My accusation left her eyes red with anger. She sniffed and stepped back, and someone immediately came forward to defend her.

Preston pulled her into his arms protectively, glaring at me with disapproval. "How dare you speak to Ms. Saccone like that? If you don't want to work here, just say so!"

He held Yvette gently, comforting her and wiping away her tears. His gaze toward me remained cold and indifferent.

Cassandra quickly joined the attack. "Annabeth, you made mistakes and botched projects when you first joined the company too! Don't act like you're the most capable person in the world!"

Even Mitchell, who rarely bothered to explain himself, spoke up for Yvette.

"That's enough. Give her a break. Yvette is younger and smarter than you. If you still want to stay in this company, you shouldn't get on your superior's bad side."

I suppressed the emotions threatening to spiral out of control and tried to leave, but Yvette suddenly grabbed my arm.

Her reddened eyes locked onto mine. "Annabeth, did I say you could leave? If you need a reason, it's because this company is a subsidiary of Saccone Group. My father is the chairman of Saccone Group. If you want to keep working here, you need to apologize to me!"

I frowned. "If your father is the chairman of Saccone Group, then what is his name?"

My grandfather's last name was Saccone, and my grandmother's last name was Hudson. Thus, my father's name was a combination of his parents' last names, Hudson Saccone.

I, on the other hand, had inherited my grandmother's last name, which often left people curious about my identity.

The moment I spoke, Yvette, who had been brimming with arrogance, fell silent.

She stammered, unable to answer. After all, many of those present had business dealings with Saccone Group.

I let out a cold laugh. "What kind of daughter doesn't even know her own father's name? I think you're the imposter here."

She burst into tears, sobbing pitifully. Her tears fell onto her scarf like a broken string of pearls.

"Annabeth, you can accuse me of stealing your clients or criticize my inexperience, but you can't insult my dad! I will never disclose his personal information just to satisfy someone's ulterior motives!"

Her performance was so convincing that I staggered back in disbelief. Just as I was about to reveal my identity and expose her lies, I remembered the promise I had made when I left home.

Yvette was right. The Saccone family had no intention of raising an armchair strategist for an heir.

Dad had stripped me of my privileges and sent me to this subsidiary, ordering me to earn 100 million dollars within ten years.

Over the years, I had worked tirelessly, not merely for promotions or raises. One day, I would stand at the annual meeting of Saccone Group as the newly promoted team lead of a subsidiary, relying solely on my own strength.

In the end, I compromised. I apologized to diffuse the situation, but as I straightened, I accidentally brushed against Yvette.

She suddenly cried out, staggering backward as she clutched her stomach. "My stomach! My baby! Annabeth, you've gone too far! I tried to help you, and you pushed me. Don't you know I'm pregnant?"

Her shrill cry rippled through the room, giving cause to the previously unsubstantiated blame.

Cassandra advanced on me with a vicious expression. She went behind me and forced my knees downward, trying to get me on the ground.

Caught off guard, I fell hard onto the floor, and pain shot through my body.

"Stop pretending! Ms. Saccone is pregnant. You're lucky she's fine after you bumped into her! What if something happened to the baby? Can you take responsibility for that?"

I refused to kneel, struggling to remain upright, and I was forced to get on all fours as Yvette peered down at me from above.

She feigned concern, moving as if to help me up, only to withdraw her hand halfway. "I can forgive you, but I deserve an apology."

The people around us praised her kindness while holding me down to prevent me from getting up.

As I felt their grips tighten around me, a bitter ache spread through my chest.

These were the colleagues I had treated with sincerity, people I had once considered family. Now, they had become weapons aimed at tearing me down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mitchell joining in as well. He avoided my gaze. Guilt flickered in his eyes, yet his hands never stopped pressing me down.

Three years ago, when his home caught fire, and he was trapped inside, it was I who risked my life to save him.

Fighting back tears, I addressed everyone present. "I will not apologize, and I refuse to apologize! There are surveillance cameras everywhere. If you continue to assault me, I'll call the police and file charges because this is coercion!"

From that day onward, my position in the company became increasingly precarious.

The pantry became the birthplace of countless rumors about me. Every time I passed by, I heard whispers as irritating as the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

Each indistinct word seeped into my nightmares, waking me in the middle of the night.

There weren't many microwaves in the office, and people often had to wait in line to heat their meals. Yet whenever it was my turn, my lunch mysteriously disappeared.

They didn't dare poison my food, but they would throw away my lunches. Even when I caught them in the act, they stubbornly denied it.

"Oh, sorry. I thought it was my lunch."

"It's just a couple of meals. It's not like you'll starve."

It wasn't just my lunch. My clients were poached as well. Deals negotiated one day would be snatched away the next through underhanded tactics.

My performance began to decline, and Mitchell publicly reprimanded me during a morning meeting. "If you can't do the job, then get out. This company has no room for slackers!"

On New Year's Eve, I was working late and got locked inside the office.

I leaned weakly against the glass wall, staring at the pitch-black corridor as nausea churned violently in my stomach.

It was supposed to be a night of reunion, with my family waiting for me at home, yet I didn't have the strength to return.

Even though my phone had power, the office had internet, and all it would've taken was a single call for me to leave, I had already been worn down to the point of exhaustion.

…

After the New Year, I submitted my resignation to Mitchell.

Within hours, he discovered the truth about what had happened on New Year's Eve. He appeared before me with Cassandra, who wore an expression of guilt.

She reluctantly apologized and was docked six months of her bonus as compensation for what she had done to me.

"Annabeth, you're one of the company's key employees. If you encounter any difficulties in the future, come to me. Don't bring up resignation again," Mitchell said.

I said nothing and didn't withdraw my resignation letter either.

However, the matter was far from over. I had been marked as a target.

After countless attempts to evade my pursuer, I chose to confront the danger head-on. I gripped a stone I had picked up by the roadside, waiting for whoever was following me to reveal themselves.

Cassandra appeared, no longer dressed in her usual neat business attire but in casual streetwear. She screamed at me hysterically, "This is all your fault! It was just a joke! What right did you have to take my bonus?

"That money was meant to save my father's life! He's in the early stages of cancer and could still be treated. Now, he's going to die because of you!"

Her eyes were bloodshot as she advanced toward me, gripping a baseball bat. Without hesitation, she swung it straight at my head.

I turned and ran, desperate to reach the main road for help, but she chased after me relentlessly.

Suddenly, my steps faltered. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground. Cassandra screamed for me to die.

I closed my eyes helplessly, bracing for the pain. However, instead, a pair of strong, fair hands suddenly appeared, pulling me tightly into an embrace.