Guilt gnawed at me. I was about to post something in the tech department's internal group chat when messages started flooding in.

"Boss, who cares if we're disbanded? We're with you no matter what!"

"Director Lambert, with your skills, you could land a job anywhere. Why keep slaving away for Blair White?"

"Forget job hunting—just start your own company!"

Their loyalty hit me square in the chest. I typed back: "This company isn't Blair's alone. Half of it is mine. She doesn't get to fire you without my agreement. Consider yourselves on paid leave—next month's salaries will be deposited as usual."

The chat exploded.

Everyone wanted to know how I planned to turn this around, when the company would finally change hands. But at moments like these, the less I said, the better.

"Soon," I wrote. "When Blair can't sit still anymore and comes begging us to return—that's when we'll know it's working."

The group was still buzzing with excitement when a private message popped up. One of the newer hires.

"Ms. White, Bella Lambert is telling the group chat that half the company belongs to her! She's even promising paid leave to the whole tech department. She must be losing her mind—desperate enough to say anything!"

She recalled the message almost instantly.

Not fast enough.

I'd known for a while that Blair had planted a mole in my team. Now I had a name.

I kicked her from the group without a word. She became the only tech department employee who wasn't "fired."

Lorna had been with me the longest. She knew my situation better than anyone.

Her call came through seconds later, worry bleeding through every word.

"Boss, are you sure about burning bridges with Ms. White like this? Your family needs money—your mom's medical bills..." She exhaled sharply. "And that night—you shouldn't have transferred that hundred thousand to the company out of spite. You're basically down two hundred thousand now!"

As if I didn't know exactly what that money meant.

But if I wanted Blair gone, that hundred thousand was the price of admission.

My phone buzzed again. My boyfriend.

"Bella, what the hell is wrong with you? Did you use my bank card to transfer five thousand to your company?"

"Yes. My card hit its daily limit, so I used yours. But I transferred it back to you from a different account right after."

Silence stretched between us.

Then: "I think that was pretty disrespectful. And I heard you got fired." A pause. "I think we should break up."

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

When I tried calling back, my number had already been blocked.

Back home, I lit a cigarette.

Fired and dumped in the same day. I had to be the unluckiest person alive.

That's when my parents showed up.

They barely made it through the door before launching in: "Bella, did you have a falling out with Blair? Listen to us—go apologize. Bring her something nice."

I frowned. "How do you even know about this?"

Their eyes darted away from mine. Finally, my father spoke.

"Blair called us. She said you've gotten too full of yourself—that you caused a scene at the company over some bonus, and she had no choice but to let you go."

Rage surged through me, white-hot and barely contained.

But my father was already pressing a gift bag into my hands.

"Blair said you two have been friends for years. If you just go back and apologize, she's willing to take you back. You won't be a director anymore, of course. You'd have to start over from the bottom."

He'd already bought the apology gift.

My parents, who wore the same clothes for a decade and pinched every penny—they'd bought Blair a box of high-end skincare.

My mother nodded eagerly. "Starting from the bottom isn't so bad. Didn't you work your way up from there once before?"

My heart burned and froze at the same time. The question slipped out before I could stop it.

"Mom, Dad—who's your actual daughter here?"

My mother yanked at my sleeve immediately.

"What nonsense are you spouting? You and Blair have been friends for years! We've always treated her like our own daughter. If it weren't for all the opportunities Blair's given you, where would you be now?"

My father nodded along. "Exactly. Take your mother's illness this time—if Blair hadn't found her such a good doctor and arranged that private room, your mother wouldn't have recovered so quickly! Sure, she hasn't visited in person, but she's a busy CEO, so that's understandable..."

Hearing this, my hands curled into fists, knuckles white.

The "good doctor" came from the premium clinic I'd paid eight hundred dollars a visit for.

The private room was because I'd paid full price out of pocket.

I'd lied and said Blair had pulled strings, just so my parents wouldn't feel burdened by the costs.

I never imagined they'd hold onto that lie so tightly, brimming with gratitude for her.

The bitterness lodged in my throat. I kept my face expressionless and said nothing.

When my mother went to the kitchen to wash fruit, my father pulled me aside.

"Sweetheart, have you saved up the five hundred thousand for the surgery yet? The doctor said the sooner we pay, the sooner your mother can have the operation!"

A wave of bitterness washed through me. I didn't know how to tell him the truth.

I'd scrimped and saved for years, putting away four hundred thousand. I'd been counting on my hundred-thousand-dollar year-end bonus to make up the difference.

But now Blair hadn't just refused to pay me—I'd spent a hundred thousand of my own money to take her down. I only had three hundred thousand left.

This plan had to succeed. Failure wasn't an option.

After seeing my parents off, I called the finance department.

"Since the company's already terminated me, shouldn't you return the hundred thousand I transferred?"

Avery Cole's voice was flat and final. "What hundred thousand? The records show ninety-five. Ms. White says it's considered a personal gift."

Hearing that, something in me settled into certainty.

If Blair had just refused the money—if she'd returned it—she might have had a fighting chance.

But endless greed would be her undoing.

A few days later, I dressed carefully and walked back into the company.

The receptionist spotted me and immediately called Blair.

She appeared moments later.

When she saw me, her lips curled into a mocking smile.

"Well, well. Isn't this Bella Lambert, our former Technical Director? You seemed so confident when you walked out on us. What brings you back? Don't tell me you actually think the department can't function without you?"

Blair strode over and pressed down on my shoulder, pointing toward the tech department.

Through the glass walls, I could see everything clearly.

Apart from the director position, nothing had changed. Everyone was still there.

Blair's voice dripped with derision. "Did you really think you were so important? You had the nerve to brag about giving your team paid leave—but guess what? That very night, they came crawling to me, begging for forgiveness!"

The tech team's eyes met mine. One by one, they looked away, guilt written across their faces.

Including Lorna—the one I'd been closest to.

I understood. Getting fired right before the new year, losing their bonuses and salaries—it would've made the holidays unbearable.