Chapter 2

"All right, settle down," Tiffany continued on the stage.

"Those selected, please come to my office after the gala to sign the paperwork. Opportunities like this are rare, so make sure you cherish it."

She paused, her eyes casually drifting over me.

"By the way, this program is strictly confidential. If any details leak, not only will your spot be revoked, but the company will also pursue full legal action against whoever leaked it. So, I expect everyone's complete discretion."

I reached into my pocket, tapped my phone, and saved the audio recording that had been running the entire time.

Jason leaned over and nudged me with his elbow.

"Chloe, you better buy Tiffany a good drink tonight. Out of hundreds of employees, only three from our department made the cut. She really looks out for us."

He ticked his fingers off one by one. "Me, you, and Sabrina. The Three Musketeers! We're all getting promoted together next year!"

Looking at his clueless face, I could barely hold back my sneer.

Jason, thirty-two years old, had been with the company for five years. He had written millions of lines of code, but his title was still stuck at "Senior Engineer," his meager raises never even beating inflation.

In my past life, he was Tiffany’s most ruthless attack dog.

All because Tiffany had privately promised him that if he helped her execute this round of "headcount optimization," she would bump him to Tech Director.

"You're totally right, Jason," I smiled, raising my glass. "I will definitely pay Tiffany back for everything she’s done."

The gala shifted into open mingling. Glass in hand, I drifted through the crowd, exchanging warm, generic pleasantries with anyone who said hello.

Then, slipping into a quiet hallway corner, I pulled up SnapChat and scrolled down to a name I hadn't contacted in over a year.

Marcus.

The company's former Legal Director. Tiffany had forced him out last year under the pretext of "underperformance."

Rumor had it he walked away with a complete paper trail proving Tiffany was taking kickbacks from third-party staffing agencies.

I sent him a message: "Marcus, do you have a moment to talk? It's about Tiffany and her new 'Talent Pool.'"

Three seconds later, the status flipped to Read.

One minute later, his reply came through: "Yes."

The gala wrapped up around ten that night.

The moment I stepped out of the hotel lobby, the biting night wind cleared away most of the alcohol in my head.

"Chloe!"

Jason stumbled after me, his face flushed like a boiled lobster. He threw a heavy, alcohol-reeking arm over my shoulder.

"Tomorrow... the first thing you do tomorrow morning is go sign that agreement with Tiffany, you hear me?"

His fingers dug painfully into my shoulder. His eyes suddenly turned dead serious—no, menacing.

"Don't drag our department down. Sign it, and you're one of us. If you don't..."

He trailed off, but the cruel look on his face said everything.

In my previous life, he had given me the exact same warning.

The day after I refused to sign, his demeanor completely changed.

He took passive-aggressive jabs at me during every morning standup, assigned me impossible deadlines, and dropped "casual" hints about my "bad attitude" whenever he reported to Tiffany.

Like boiling a frog in warm water, it took him only two weeks to turn me into an office pariah whom nobody dared talk to.

And then came the "Notice of Severe Misconduct".

"Don't worry, Jason," I nodded obediently. "I'll definitely sign it."

He let out a satisfied hiccup and swayed away into the night.

I didn't head home. Instead, I met Marcus at a 24-hour café downtown.

When I arrived, Marcus was already waiting.