Chapter 2

"The final submission for the Greenfield Eco-City bid is due tomorrow at noon, Ava. Noon. And the primary systems integration file is still corrupt."

Mark' s voice cut through the office quiet. He stood in the doorway of my workspace, not looking at me but at the large monitor displaying the project folder. He radiated a tense energy, a mix of ambition and barely concealed panic. In my old life, I would have felt a surge of sympathetic anxiety. I would have already been working for hours to fix it, reassuring him that I had it under control.

Now, I just felt a cold, detached sense of observation. I knew this problem. In the original timeline, this "corrupted" file was one of Chloe's little acts of sabotage. It was designed to make me look incompetent and to give Mark a reason to "step in" and save the day with a "backup" he and Chloe had prepared. A backup that subtly shifted credit for key innovations to him.

"I've been trying to restore it from the server backups all morning," I said, keeping my voice level and professional. "But there seems to be an issue with the server connection as well." I knew the connection issue was also their doing.

"An issue? Ava, this is a fifty-million-dollar preliminary contract. 'An issue' doesn't cut it," Mark snapped, finally turning his gaze on me. His handsome face was tight with what I once mistook for professional concern. Now I saw it for what it was: the irritation of a thief whose heist was hitting a minor snag.

Leo, my young assistant, stood up nervously. "I have a hard-copy backup of the schematics from yesterday, Mr. Patterson. We could manually re-enter the data. It would take all night, but we could make the deadline."

Good, loyal Leo. He was a bright kid, and he admired my work. In the past, I would have been grateful for his dedication.

Mark shot him a withering look. "We don't have all night. And we don't pay a senior architect her salary to have an intern re-enter data because she can't manage her own files."

The insult was sharp, designed to sting and undermine my authority in front of my own assistant.

I started to get up. "Mark, if you'll just let me-"

He took a step forward, placing a hand flat on my desk, leaning over me. It was a clear gesture of dominance, a physical barrier. His voice dropped to a low, menacing hiss that only I could hear.

"You will sit there and you will keep trying to restore that file from the server. Do you understand me? I will handle the contingency plan."

He was blocking me. He didn't want me to find a solution. He needed me to fail so his plan could proceed. The memory of his empty eyes as he locked me in the cabin flashed in my mind. The feeling of the lock clicking shut.

In my first life, I argued. I pushed back, insisting I could fix it, my pride wounded. Our fight escalated into a quiet, vicious argument right here in the office, an argument that he later used as "proof" of my emotional instability.

But I wasn't that person anymore.

I leaned back in my chair, breaking the tense proximity between us. I looked from his hand on my desk up to his eyes. I gave him a small, tired nod.

"Okay, Mark," I said, my voice soft, almost submissive. "You're right. I'll keep working on the server restore. You handle the backup plan."

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. He had been bracing for a fight, and my sudden compliance threw him off balance. A flicker of suspicion crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by smug satisfaction. He thought he had won. He thought I was broken and defeated.

He straightened up, smoothing the front of his expensive suit. "Good. I'm glad you're finally seeing reason."

He turned and walked away, pulling out his phone. I knew who he was calling. He was calling Chloe to tell her phase one of their plan was a success.

Leo looked at me, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "Ava... are you sure? We can fix this."

I gave him a small, reassuring smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. "Don't worry about it, Leo. The boss has a plan."

I turned back to my screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I didn't try to restore the file. I didn't do anything. I just watched the blinking cursor on the screen, a tiny, rhythmic pulse. The rage inside me was a frozen block of ice. Calm, solid, and waiting.

He thought I was giving up. He thought I was being passive.

He had no idea that my inaction was the most strategic move I could make. I was giving him the rope. All of it. And I would watch, with patient satisfaction, as he wrapped it around his own neck.