My Billion-Dollar Baby

The elevator doors slid open, and Vivian Reynolds strutted out like she owned all sixty-four floors of Hudson Tech. Her hips swayed, her heels clicked like gunshots, and her smile… sharp enough to cut glass. “Aia,” she purred, her voice smooth and venomous. “Still trying to catch up?” I forced a polite smile, even though I wanted to claw that smirk off her face. “Some of us perfect the work before presenting it.” Her gaze dropped to the folder in my hand. “Cute. You even brought notes?” I didn’t answer. My blood simmered as I walked into the glass-walled conference room. Nathan was already there. My Nathan. My boyfriend of ten years. The man who once swore I was his future. He didn’t even look up when I said softly, “Morning.” Instead, he leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his phone like I was nothing. “Vivian wanted me to help fine-tune the pitch.” Vivian draped herself over him like silk. Her perfume filled the room, cloying and suffocating. “This section on projected returns?” she said sweetly, tapping his screen. “Brilliant.” My stomach dropped. On his tablet were my designs. My blueprint. My color-coded notes. Even my watermark. I froze, my heart pounding. “That looks familiar.” Vivian’s smile widened. “Ideas float around. It’s all about who delivers them best.” I clenched my fists under the table, forcing myself to stay calm while fire burned inside me. “Deliver all you want, Vivian. Just remember—it only counts if it’s actually yours.” Her knuckles whitened on the clicker. For just a second, her mask slipped. But Nathan didn’t notice. He didn’t notice anything about me anymore. The next morning, the boardroom was packed. Executives murmured, laptops glowed, anticipation crackled in the air. Vivian stood at the head of the table, glowing like she’d discovered the cure to cancer. “Gentlemen,” she began smoothly, “Hudson Tech’s predictive AI will cut logistics costs by thirty-two percent in one year. Revolutionary for both defense contracts and commercial supply chains.” Every word. Every slide. Every number. Mine. And Nathan sat beside her, clapping like she was a genius. “This is the leadership we need,” he said proudly. Murmurs of approval rippled around the table. I gripped my laptop. I would expose her. I’d show them all. But when I clicked open my files, my stomach turned to ice. On the massive screen flashed my private documents: rough drafts, scattered notes… even a resignation letter I’d typed in anger but never sent. Gasps. Snickers. Whispers. Vivian tilted her head, feigning sympathy. “Oh, Aia… still recycling last year’s drafts? Don’t worry, I polished them for you.” Laughter. Applause. For her. My pen snapped between my fingers, but nobody noticed. Nobody ever noticed. The CEO smiled broadly. “Excellent work, Vivian. Congratulations—you’re our new Regional Director.” My title. My project. My future. Stolen. At home, the smell of coffee once meant comfort. Now it only smelled like endings. Nathan sat at the table, scrolling his phone, his damp hair dripping onto his collar. The eggs I cooked might as well have been invisible. Then, without looking at me, he said it. “I just don’t think we want the same things anymore.” Ten years. Dismissed like he was commenting on the weather. My throat burned. “What are you talking about?” His eyes met mine, cold and vacant. “I don’t see a future with you, Aia. Start looking for another place. I want you out by the end of the month.” I gripped the chair, every instinct screaming to beg, to fight… but I didn’t. “Alright,” I said evenly. “You get one week. Ten years deserves at least that.” His eyes flickered—shock. He expected tears. Not steel. I grabbed my bag, refusing to break in front of him. The coffee was bitter, burnt, and grounding. I’d survived worse than this. Then my phone buzzed. See you tonight ❤️ – Vivian The world tilted. “You’re unbelievable,” I whispered. My voice cracked, but instead of crying, a laugh escaped me. Bitter. Broken. Sharp. He had thrown away a decade of love for a thief in silk. But the joke wasn’t on me. It was on them. I slammed the door behind me, the first sob ripping free as I gripped the steering wheel. Boardroom laughter. Vivian’s smirk. Nathan’s cold eyes. Ten years, erased with one text message. But if they thought I was finished… They hadn’t seen anything yet. Not yet. And when I rose, they would regret the day they betrayed me.