Irma cleared her throat.
“I mean…. What happened out there, Nina? A lot hinged on this client. You knew that.”
Upright as a statue, hands folded tightly in my lap, clammy with panic, I couldn’t tell if it was Curt’s eyes or my own shame that was burning me to the ground. Irma watched me with measured detachment, clipboard in hand, checking boxes of my downfall.
“Curt, I understand how bad that looked,” I began, my voice already thin. “But that wasn’t the version I submitted. I reviewed everything. I had projections, targeting segments, hashtag analysis—real data.”
“You’re saying this wasn’t your work? Who did you delegate to, then?” Curt interrupted, voice low and sharp.
“I did the work myself. Just not what was shown. I had the right version saved. Multiple copies. But now I can’t find it. It’s not there. It’s like it never existed.”
Irma’s pen moved across the clipboard, then stopped, and Curt and her exchanged a disapproving look.
“Are you saying someone swapped your files?” Curt asked, insulted at my insinuation.
“No,” I said quickly, too quickly. “I mean—I don’t know. I’m saying something went wrong. Can’t speak to how or why, but… it wasn’t what I submitted.”
I risked a glance at Irma. Nothing. No reaction. Just a click of her pen.
Curt leaned back in his chair, pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “So, let me get this straight. You did the work. It mysteriously disappeared. And now the only version we have is the one that tanked in front of the biggest prospective client we’ve ever pitched?”
I pressed my lips together. “Yes.”
“And you have no backup files. No emails. No timestamps. Nothing?”
“I tried to pull it up—everything was gone. From my cloud, from my local folders. I checked the version history. It just… stopped.”
Curt let out a slow, incredulous laugh. “So unless our server suddenly developed a personal vendetta, your explanation is…?Sabotage?”
“No.” My breath caught. Accusations of sabotage were no joke. Losing a file would lose me a job. Throwing the “s” word would get me blacklisted. “I mean… I don’t know. I’m not accusing anyone. I just—That wasn’t my work, that’s the truth.”
I caught sight of Lincoln’s dimpled smile through the glass doors just outside the office, trying to avoid Curt’s gaze. Lincoln’s hand covered his mouth, as if he didn’t want to be caught laughing, but the shake of his shoulders was unmistakable.
Curt stood, bringing my focus back to him, straightened his blazer, and nodded to Irma. “Nina, regardless of how it happened, what you presented today was unacceptable. You were lead on the project. The responsibility stops with you.”
I opened my mouth, then decided against arguing. No excuse would fix this.
“You’ll be paid out for your remaining PTO,” he said coolly. “We’re also offering an additional two weeks’ severance. Termination’s effective immediately.”
The words struck with the weight of a verdict. Irma slid an envelope toward me. I didn’t even reach for it.
“I’ll give you thirty minutes to clear your office,” Curt stated, opening the door. “Security’ll escort you if you’re still in the building.”
I nodded, pretending the floor wasn’t tilting under me. My mind was already running through my living expenses, and I walked out without a word—because if I opened my mouth, I might scream.
As I walked back to my office, I felt numb, humiliated, hollowed out. Even then, a slew of eyes tracked my every step, and former coworkers whispered my name as if it were a dirty word. I was used to people gossiping about me, it usually rarely registered… but it did then.
A sharp, dark laugh yanked me back into awareness. With the small conference room’s door ajar, daring me to listen, I stood quietly at the end of the hallway, my heels sinking into the carpet as I homed in on the voices.
Natasha stood with her hand resting on Lincoln’s elbow. He absently curled a lock of her bright-red hair around his fingers, the soft strands spilling over her shoulders in silky ribbons.
They were comfortable, and their touch was intimate.Toointimate.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, but I still heard everything.
“I can’t believe that really happened,” Natasha laughed, her voice light, careless, and her honey-brown eyes shimmered as she gazed up at him.
“I know,” Lincoln said with a low chuckle. “You’d think she would have checked the slides before setting up the presentation.”
