Charlie swiped her access card and walked through the turnstiles of the Logan Group headquarters in Midtown Manhattan.
The security guards, who usually greeted her with polite nods, suddenly found the floor very interesting. They avoided her eyes.
Charlie ignored them. She stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the 15th floor.
Just as the doors were closing, two women from the finance department squeezed in. They were glued to their phones, whispering furiously.
"Did you hear? The CEO's first love is in the building today," one of them muttered.
"I saw her," the other replied. "She's got a tiny baby bump. Mr. Logan is guarding her like she's made of glass."
Charlie stood in the back corner. She kept her eyes locked on her phone screen, but her grip on the device was so tight her knuckles ached.
The women kept talking.
"What about that plain-Jane wife of his in the marketing department? The one who tricked her way into the family?"
"What about her? I heard the divorce papers are already signed. She's getting kicked to the curb."
The elevator chimed. Floor 15.
Charlie stepped forward, her face a mask of absolute indifference, and walked right past the two women.
They gasped, slapping their hands over their mouths as the doors closed behind her.
Charlie walked onto the marketing floor. The usual hum of ringing phones and chatter died the second her heels clicked against the carpet.
She ignored the pitying and mocking stares burning into her back. She walked straight to the women's restroom at the end of the hall.
She pushed the door open, walked into the furthest stall, locked it, and leaned her head against the cool metal partition. She just needed five minutes of silence.
A moment later, the restroom door swung open. The sharp clack of stilettos echoed off the tiles.
Two women walked in. Charlie instantly recognized the voice of Trina Dempsey, her subordinate who had always been a thorn in her side.
"I can't believe she actually showed her face today," Trina sneered, the sound of a lipstick cap popping off following her words.
"Right?" her friend chimed in. "Now that Ms. Alyce is here, Charlie's title as the CEO's wife is a total joke."
Trina laughed, a high, grating sound. "She's a country bumpkin. If she hadn't gotten lucky and saved the old chairman's life, she wouldn't even be allowed to clean the toilets at Logan Group."
"Well, once she's gone, that Marketing Director spot is yours, Trina."
"Obviously," Trina said smugly. "I've already backed up all her client files to my personal drive. When she gets thrown out, she's leaving with nothing."
Inside the stall, Charlie's eyes snapped open.
The exhaustion vanished, replaced by a cold, lethal clarity.
She reached out and unlocked the stall.
She kicked the door open. It slammed against the dividing wall with a violent bang.
Trina and her friend jumped, shrieking as the lipstick tumbled from Trina's hand and clattered into the sink.
Charlie walked out slowly. Her posture was perfectly straight, her expression terrifyingly calm.
She walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and began washing her hands. She stared at Trina through the massive mirror above the vanity.
The water ran. Nobody breathed.
Charlie pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, dried her hands meticulously, and finally turned around.
A chilling smile curved the corner of her mouth.
"Backing up my client files to your personal drive?" Charlie's voice was low, but it carried the weight of an executioner's blade. "Trina, that is corporate espionage."
All the blood drained from Trina's face. She stumbled backward, her mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.
