Chapter 102 Sabotage.

Chapter 102 Sabotage.
Maureen’s POV

It was another day at work, and I had finished the day’s job. I stayed back long after most of the lights on my floor had gone out.

It wasn’t because anyone asked me to. I just didn’t trust myself to leave until I had gone through everything one last time. The project folder sat open on my laptop, neat rows of files staring back at me as if daring me to miss something. I rubbed my eyes, then straightened, forcing myself to focus again.

This task mattered. Too much.

It wasn’t just another assignment—it was the kind of project people remembered, the kind that quietly decided how seriously your name would be taken in the room. I had been careful from the start. Meticulous. I double-checked figures, reread summaries, cross-referenced confidential notes. When I finally shut my laptop that night, I felt tired but satisfied.

I knew my work was clean.

The next morning, the conference room buzzed with low conversation as we settled in for the meeting. I took my seat, notebook on my lap, pen resting between my fingers. My heart beat a little faster than usual, but it was the good kind of nervous—the kind that comes when you know you’ve prepared.

Alexa sat at the head of the table, posture straight, expression composed. She glanced around, then smiled politely.

“Let’s begin.”

As the presentation progressed, everything felt normal at first. A few questions here and there, nods of acknowledgment. I relaxed slightly. Then Alexa’s tone shifted—not sharply, just enough to make my shoulders tense.

“Maureen,” she said, looking at the screen, “can you clarify this section for us?”

I leaned forward. “Of course.”

She clicked to a slide I hadn’t seen before.

My breath caught.

“That data doesn’t align with the confidential brief you submitted,” Alexa continued calmly. “Can you explain the discrepancy?”

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. That wasn’t my formatting. The wording was wrong—subtly, but unmistakably. The figures were presented in a way that suggested carelessness, even manipulation.

“That’s not…….” I stopped myself, swallowing. “That isn’t how I submitted it.”

A few heads turned. Someone shifted in their seat.

Alexa tilted her head slightly. “So you’re saying the file was altered?”

“I’m saying this doesn’t match my final version,” I replied, keeping my voice steady even as my pulse thundered in my ears.

She nodded slowly, as if considering my words. “Interesting. Because this version came directly from the shared system.”

A quiet murmur rippled through the room.

I felt heat crawl up my neck. “I was very careful with this project,” I said. “I reviewed every detail personally.”

“I’m sure you did,” Alexa replied smoothly. “But accuracy is crucial, especially when handling sensitive information. Even small oversights can have serious implications.”

‘Oversights’.

The word stung.

“Maybe the proposal mood is still lingering around you, which is why you couldn’t concentrate.” Alexa said sarcastically, her eyes glaring into mine.

That’s when it clicked. My brain finally caught up with the moment—it was obvious she had done it. I wanted to walk up to her, grab her by the hair, and slap some sense into her—warn her never to try such nonsense with me again. But I couldn’t. At least not at work.

Another senior colleague cleared his throat pulling me out of my day dreaming. “Maureen, this kind of inconsistency raises concerns.”

“I understand,” I said, though my hands had begun to shake beneath the table. “But I wouldn’t have submitted anything like this.”

Alexa offered a sympathetic smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Regardless of intent, the responsibility still falls on you.”

The meeting moved on, but the damage had already been done. I could feel it—the shift in the air, the sideways glances, the sudden distance. When it ended, conversations sparked immediately, hushed and sharp. I gathered my things slowly, my chest tight.

As I stepped into the hallway, snippets of whispers followed me.

“Did you notice the figures? That’s a serious mistake.”

“I didn’t expect that from her.”

“What exactly do you expect from someone who isn’t qualified for the job? Don’t you know her billionaire boyfriend is the one who used his influence to get her hired here?”

I walked past them with my head high, but inside, something cracked.

Back at my desk, I opened the system again, hands trembling as I pulled up my saved files. My original version was there—unchanged, precise, exactly as I remembered. Then I checked the system log.

My stomach dropped.

Edits had been made after I logged out. Small ones. Careful ones. The kind meant not to be obvious.

“Alexa you sneaky bitch!” I mumbled under my breath, anger boiling from within me.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen, my heartbeat slowly evening out as a different emotion replaced the shock.

Just then, my office door flung open. It was Alexa.

“What does she want this time?” I mumbled under my breath.

“Oh, I just came to let you know this is only the tip of the ice berg,” she said coolly. “And to warn you…know your place. I am your boss here, and you will address me as one.”’

I let out a slow breath. “You are my boss, yes. When did I ever dispute that?” I replied calmly. “But a boss who doesn’t act like one doesn’t deserve to be treated as one.”

Alexa’s mouth fell open. She wanted to speak, but no words came out. Finally she found her voice.

“What did you just say to me?”

I scoffed. “You’ve done enough for today. When you’re done, kindly use the door. Thanks,” I replied.

“Well, you’d better be ready for more of me,” she threatened.

I tilted my head. “Wait….is this about my proposal, or is there something I’m not getting? Ever since my proposal, you’ve turned into a sadistic version of yourself. Why are you so pained?”

The words hit her like a blow. She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. She didn’t say a word—she only hissed and stormed out.

“Okay.” I whispered.