At the company gala, I pulled the grand prize at the exact same moment as my boyfriend's secretary, Tania Fox.
Neal Gilbert strode onto the stage, all smiles, claiming the system had glitched. He handed us two identical gift boxes, announcing that whoever got the real prize would be down to pure luck.
I opened mine. Two ceramic tiles.
Tania opened hers. The brand-new iPhone 17 Pro Max.
But everyone in that room saw it clearly—the split second he handed over the boxes, he'd slipped the one with the phone right into Tania's waiting hands.
The looks that swept my way were instant. Mockery. Schadenfreude. Barely concealed glee.
My phone buzzed with a flood of messages from Neal:
"Babe, you're my girlfriend. If you won the grand prize, people would talk."
"Giving it to Tania is just to avoid suspicion. You understand, right?"
I laughed. Actually laughed.
I stared at the friend request from the rival company's HR sitting in my inbox. My thumb hovered for only a second before I hit accept.
If he wanted to avoid suspicion so badly, fine. I was done with this company.
And my boyfriend? He was about to go bankrupt.
1.
"Serves her right! Always strutting around like she owns the place just because she's dating the CEO. Look at her now!"
"Thank God Mr. Gilbert sided with Tania. She's always so sweet to us—she deserves that prize."
"Exactly. Acting like she's the boss's wife when clearly, she's not the one he actually cares about."
The whispers sliced through the air, relentless.
Tania clutched her new phone, standing at Neal's side, triumph barely concealed beneath her lashes. Then she tugged at his sleeve, her voice dripping with rehearsed reluctance:
"Mr. Gilbert, is this really okay? Ivy Pruitt is your girlfriend, after all. Maybe... maybe I should give the phone back to her?"
Neal reached over and patted her shoulder—Loss, gentle—before turning to me. His tone shifted instantly, edged with impatience:
"Ivy, look how considerate Tania is. Would it kill you to be a little more gracious?"
"The boxes were identical. It was pure chance. Are you really going to fight a new employee over this?"
I stared at him. And then I smiled.
"Chance?" My voice cut through the murmurs. "Neal, do you think everyone here is blind?"
"When you handed over those boxes, the way your hand tilted—every single person in this room saw exactly what you did."
His expression froze for a heartbeat before that practiced warmth slid back into place.
"Ivy, it's just a phone. I'll buy you ten. Twenty. There's no need to make a scene with a new secretary. People will say I'm playing favorites. They'll say you're throwing your weight around."
Playing favorites. Throwing my weight around.
My whole body trembled. Five years of swallowed grievances and buried rage erupted all at once.
I yanked out my phone, pulled up the year-end bonus notification I'd just received, and shoved the screen in his face.
"Mr. Gilbert, if the raffle was luck, then what about this? Is my bonus luck too?"
The number glared back at us:
$2.50.
The room exploded.
"Two dollars and fifty cents? She's the Vice President—the second-in-command—and her bonus is $2.50?"
"That's insane. I'm just a regular employee and I got five thousand!"
"You don't know? I heard Tania's been here three months and got twenty thousand!"
Twenty thousand.
My head snapped toward Neal. My pupils contracted.
Five years. I had given this company five years of my life, clawing my way up alongside him from the startup days. I'd closed more than half the deals that built this place. As Vice President, my year-end bonus was two dollars and fifty cents.
A secretary who'd been here ninety days walked away with twenty thousand.
The irony was suffocating.
Panic flickered across Neal's eyes—just for an instant—before he shoved my phone away and barked at the watching crowd:
