Chapter 1

Right before bidding for a global luxury perfume campaign, an intern suggested using AI to generate our pitch posters in one click.

My fiancé, Logan, frowned at me. "AI is efficient. Stop clinging to outdated standards and stifling young talent."

The executives chimed in immediately. "Exactly, Scarlett. AI is the future. The client isn't stuck in the Stone Age."

In my past life, I rejected the idea on the spot, pointing out that the AI images plagiarized our competitor's signature motifs. I stayed up for three nights straight to redo the entire proposal by hand.

In return, the intern faked depression, slit her wrist, and Logan's heart broke for her. Together with the executives, he had me locked away in a psychiatric ward, where they tortured me until I died.

Reborn into this life, I stared at the intern's smug smile.

Calmly, I spoke up. "Sure. I'm handing this entire pitch over to you."

I couldn't wait to see how the client sued them into bankruptcy for pitching stolen work.

The conference room fell into dead silence.

Chloe clutched her tablet, swallowing back the tears she had already rehearsed.

Logan blinked, visibly caught off guard, his tone softening.

"Scarlett, that's more like it. The agency needs to grow. The old playbook doesn't cut it anymore."

"Chloe may lack experience, but she gets Gen Z. AI spits out posters in seconds, saving us a fortune in creative costs."

Several board members nodded in approval, shooting impressed glances at Chloe.

"The kid's sharp."

"Using AI for House of V's campaign will blow them away."

I sat back, sipping my coffee.

In my past life, I sat in this exact chair.

When Chloe pitched using AI-generated garbage to land a top-tier luxury brand like House of V, I shut it down immediately.

House of V prided itself on craft and brand heritage. AI art looked cheap, and worse, the model scraped assets directly from their arch-rival. That was commercial suicide.

To save our company, I pulled three consecutive all-nighters, leading my design team through dozens of hand-drawn concepts.

And what did I get? Chloe made a tiny scratch on her wrist in the breakroom and posted on Ins, crying that a senior partner was bullying her to death.

Logan stormed into my office, slapped me across the face, and accused me of being a bitter, insecure woman who couldn't stand young talent.

They bribed a doctor at a private asylum to diagnose me with severe paranoia.

In that windowless cell, pumped full of sedatives against my will, my heart eventually gave out.

Now, I looked Chloe in the eye and spoke gently.

"Since everyone agrees, Chloe can run this pitch from start to finish."

I turned toward Logan.

"I've got pending deliverables for several legacy accounts. My plate is full."

"I'm officially stepping off the House of V project."

Logan's brow furrowed.

"I asked you to mentor her, and you're dropping the ball?"

Chloe quickly grabbed Logan's sleeve.

"Logan, it's totally okay. Scarlett is busy. I can handle this myself. I'll prove it to her!"

She threw me a smug, defiant glare.

"Then good luck," I said.

I stood up, walked back to my office, and summoned my assistant, Zoe.

"Package every single file on the House of V pitch and hand it over to Chloe."

"Then draft a Project Handover Agreement. Make sure Logan and Chloe sign it."

Zoe froze.

"Scarlett, House of V is our biggest bid of the year! You're really handing it to an intern who doesn't even know layout basics?"

I smiled.

"She has Logan backing her. Why should we lose sleep over it?"

"Get it done. And add an ironclad liability clause: all profits, losses, and legal liabilities fall strictly on them, completely independent of me."

Though confused, Zoe followed orders.

Ten minutes later, the agreement came back signed.

Looking at Logan's and Chloe's signatures on the paper, the weight in my chest lifted.

I was finally stepping off this sinking ship.

I opened my laptop and pulled up the profiles of several key accounts.

Over the past five years, I built this agency with Logan from scratch, winning every single one of these clients with my own blood and sweat.

Now, I was taking all of them with me.

My phone buzzed. A text from Logan:

[Scarlett, you acted way too impulsively in the meeting today.]

[Chloe is just an intern. Why take it out on her? Walking off the project? You think you're punishing her? You're gambling with our company's future.]

Looking at his message, I felt like laughing.

In my last life, I ruined my health protecting the company's future, and he called me a bully.

Now that I stepped aside, he blamed me for quitting.

I texted back:

[You signed the handover. If you trust her so much, let her shine.]

I flipped my phone facedown and started drafting my equity buyout agreement.

I owned forty percent of this agency. Based on our current valuation, it was worth a massive payout.

Once Chloe blew the House of V pitch and faced crushing penalties and brand devastation, those shares wouldn't be worth the paper they were printed on.

I had to cash out and cut every tie before pitch day.