Chapter 2

Whispers rippled through the onlookers as their glances shifted between Mandy and me.

"Chloe is usually so quiet, but..."

"Wait, didn't Chloe look pretty far from her?"

"Still, Mandy and Mark have always been close..."

"Look at her ankle, it's bleeding! Someone call security!"

"The Apex Project?" I let out a cold chuckle.

"Mandy, corporate headquarters personally named me to the core team two weeks ago. It’s in the meeting minutes in black and white."

"My job is data modeling and risk assessment. Yours is client relations and venue setup. What exactly would I be jealous of? The fact that you have to drink with clients until midnight while I clock out on time?"

Dead silence fell over the lobby.

A few coworkers who knew the reality exchanged subtle, knowing looks.

Mandy’s face flushed bright red. Her lips trembled:

"You... you're making things up! Entertaining clients is part of my professional duty!"

She turned toward Mark, brimming with tears.

"Mark, listen to her! How could she say that..."

Mark looked humiliated. He glanced between Mandy and me, clearly triggered by the mention of their dirty little secrets.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to control the damage:

"Chloe, Mandy is hurt! Priority number one is getting her treated! Security! Security!"

Two guards sprinted over.

"Get her to the first-aid room! Now!"

Mark barked orders, then rounded on me with a dark, threatening gaze.

"Chloe, this isn't over. Accident or not, she got hurt right next to you. Once she’s treated, we're talking in the conference room."

"Oh, we're definitely talking,"

I replied coolly. "Except we won't be talking about my liability. We'll be talking about why the lobby glass suddenly exploded when a hurricane warning was already issued and everyone was ordered to evacuate."

"As project director, shouldn't you be answering for this massive safety hazard?"

Mark stiffened.

"Also," I added deadpan,

"when the glass shattered, I noticed your cup of coffee splashed all over my coat."

"I'll need to keep this as evidence. If my coat is ruined, it counts toward the incident report damages."

I looked down at the dark brown coffee stains on the hem of my beige trench coat.

Mark’s hand twitched toward his empty fingers, his face turning an ugly shade of purple.

When he dropped the cup earlier, half the liquid really had splashed in my direction.

"You're being ridiculous!" he snapped, waving at the guards to take Mandy away.

As Mandy was helped past me, she paused.

She looked up, the tears vanishing instantly, replaced by icy, poisonous malice. Her lips moved silently:

"You're dead."

I didn't care about whatever drama was happening in the first-aid room.

Her ankle had a scrape. Maybe two stitches at most.

Yet she would definitely blow it up like she was crippled for life. That was her signature move: trade superficial cuts for sympathy, and weaponize tears to frame people.

In my last life, a tiny scratch was all it took for her to brand me as a malicious attacker.

I didn't bother waiting for Mark in the conference room.

I walked straight down the hall to the security surveillance room.