Allies and Enemies
764 Words
By the time Zoe got home that evening, she was exhausted but wired. The events of the day played on a loop in her mind, taunting her with every detail.
She threw her heels across the room and collapsed onto the couch, pulling out her phone to call the one person who always talked her off the ledge.
“Tasha, I’m gonna lose it.”
Her best friend’s voice came through the speaker, calm but fierce. “Tell me who to fight and where to meet them.”
Zoe let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “The presentation was sabotaged. In front of everyone. I was humiliated.”
“And you’re sure someone switched it?”
“Positive. I checked it five times last night. The file they used was a butchered mess.”
“Then someone’s setting you up, Zo. You need to find proof. Don’t just defend, expose.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right. No more playing nice.”
Tasha’s voice softened. “And if Carrington doesn’t believe you…”
Zoe’s silence said everything.
The next morning…
Zoe arrived earlier than usual. She didn’t greet anyone. Didn’t smile. She went straight to her desk and got to work. This time, she backed up everything she touched, twice. Email logs. File versions. External drive backups. She even set up an auto-recording macro to track every change made on her terminal.
If someone tried to mess with her again, she’d catch them red-handed.
Halfway through her prep, a soft knock sounded on her desk.
It was Mr. Kelvin.
“Hey,” he said gently, glancing around before lowering his voice. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But I saw Lara printing documents from your file folder yesterday afternoon. Said Mr. Carrington requested them.”
Zoe’s stomach dropped. “He didn’t.”
Kelvin nodded. “Thought so. I checked the request ID later, it was a dummy tag. Someone’s trying to frame you.”
Zoe sat back in her chair, fists clenched. “Why are you telling me this?”
Kelvin shrugged. “Because you don’t deserve what’s happening. And you’re the first assistant that hasn’t looked down on me.”
Zoe smiled, warmth breaking through the cold. “Thank you.”
He leaned in one last time. “If you want to catch them, check the print logs on Floor 11. Security archives everything. Even sneak jobs.”
Later that day, Zoe rode the elevator up to Floor 11 like a woman on a mission. She passed HR, rounded the corner, and slipped into the printing hub.
Ten minutes. That’s all it took.
She found Lara’s login ID stamped on a document batch matching her presentation file dated the day before the meeting.
Bingo.
She copied the log file onto a USB drive and tucked it into her coat.
That evening, Zoe entered Damian’s office unannounced. He looked up from his laptop, surprised.
“I have proof,” she said, walking straight to his desk.
“Of?”
“My presentation was sabotaged. And it wasn’t a mistake.”
She plugged in the USB and opened the files showing timestamps, document trails, and Lara’s user ID.
Damian leaned in, silent as he scrolled through the evidence. His brows drew together, and his jaw tightened.
When he looked up at her, the cold mask had cracked.
“You really went through all this trouble?”
“I had to,” she said simply. “Because I knew no one else would believe me.”
His gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. “You’re impressive when you’re angry.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flirt with me when I’m holding receipts.”
That earned a rare, honest chuckle.
“Don’t worry,” he said, straightening. “I’ll handle this.”
Zoe nodded and turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.
“Zoe.”
She turned.
His eyes softened, just a little. “You’ve got more grit than most people on this floor.”
For once, she didn’t deflect.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “And I’m not done yet.”
Meanwhile…
Vanessa stood in Lara’s apartment, sipping red wine as Lara paced anxiously.
“I told you it would work,” Lara said. “But that girl’s like a cockroach. She keeps coming back.”
Vanessa’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Then we’ll just step on her harder.”
She turned toward the window, her reflection glowing against the glass.
“Let’s see how Damian reacts when he finds out she’s not as innocent as she seems.”
- Writer
