Chapter 4

Ryan's back slammed against the wall. The sound turned every head in the office.

Sophie's tears fell on cue.

"Claire, I know you want the promotion, but even after twelve years of friendship, I can't cover up plagiarism for you."

Murmurs rippled through the room.

"The system does show Sophie submitted first."

"What the hell is going on?"

I was shaking so hard my vision kept going black.

"I spent three months on that proposal! Every data point, every chart—I did it myself!"

I locked eyes with Ryan.

"I worked on it at home until two in the morning. Every night. You saw all of it!"

"Ryan, tell them. Who's lying?"

His gaze darted away for just a second.

Then he stepped in front of Sophie.

"Enough."

"HR is still investigating. Stop taking it out on Soph."

And just like that, everything clicked.

He didn't need to tamper with the submission timestamps.

All he had to do was wait until I was asleep, open my laptop, and send the unfinished proposal to Sophie before I could upload it.

I stormed into the HR conference room and laid out everything—start to finish.

The HR director simply turned the system log toward me.

"The records show Sophie submitted first. Until the IT department completes its audit, the company won't make a final determination."

"In the meantime, you remain on paid leave."

I walked out on legs that barely held me. I had to brace myself against the wall just to move.

Ryan pulled me into the break room.

"Stop making a scene. I'll take care of you."

His voice was low, carrying a faint note of charity.

"Soph's mom is waiting on money for treatment. This promotion means everything to her."

"You're talented. Missing one opportunity isn't going to kill you."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"So you handed her my work and let me take the fall for plagiarism?"

"It's just a temporary leave pending investigation!"

Ryan's brow creased with impatience.

"Once it blows over, I'll pull some strings and find you something else."

The cold crept up from my fingertips, spreading through my entire body.

When we first got together, Ryan had held me and said:

"Claire, I will never let anyone hurt you."

Now the one grinding me into the dirt was him.

I shook his hand off and went back to clear out my desk.

The property office issued me a one-time visitor pass to retrieve the rest of my belongings from the apartment.

I walked through the door, and a wave of unfamiliar sweet perfume hit me.

The sheets on the master bed had been changed to Sophie's favorite pink. Long strands of her hair lay across the pillow.

At the bottom of the trash can—two torn condom wrappers.

Our engagement photo, the one that used to sit on the nightstand, had been knocked to the floor. Smudged handprints streaked across the glass.

I stared at the photo, and my stomach lurched violently.

So while I was being forced to apologize, while I was crying myself to sleep alone in a hotel room—they were in my bed.

My love. My friendship. Both had rotted beyond recognition.

Ryan was still texting me:

"Stop being stubborn. Come home tonight. Let's talk."

I wiped my tears and booked an appointment to terminate the pregnancy.