After my divorce, my ex-husband and his expensive lawyers made sure I lost everything, and when he leaned close in the hallway and said, “Nobody wants a homeless woman,” it sounded like a prophecy instead of a threat.

“I know,” Jacob said, voice flat. “Carmichael borrowed your laptop yesterday. Said he wanted to review timelines.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “He wanted me to fail. Instead, I showed everyone I don’t need fancy presentations. The work speaks for itself.”

That evening, I called an emergency board meeting with Victoria as legal counsel.

“I want to address what happened this morning,” I said. “My files were deliberately corrupted to undermine my credibility.”

Carmichael shifted. “That’s a serious accusation.”

“It is,” I said, “which is why I had IT trace the modifications. They originated from your computer yesterday at 6:47 p.m.”

Silence stretched, thick and humiliating.

Carmichael’s face reddened. “I was reviewing files. If something was accidentally modified—”

“There was nothing accidental about corrupting every backup,” Jacob said coldly.

“I was testing her,” Carmichael snapped. “Theodore left this company to an untested amateur.”

I laughed—one sharp sound. “You wanted to see if I’d crumble, Mr. Carmichael? I spent three months living out of a storage unit. I dumpster-dived for furniture to sell for food. You corrupting files doesn’t even register.”

I leaned forward. “But sabotaging company interests to serve your ego makes you a liability. Here’s what’s happening: you’ll resign immediately. In exchange, the company will buy out your stake at fair market value and you’ll sign a non-disparagement agreement. Or I file formal complaints, involve lawyers, and destroy your reputation. Your choice. You have until end of business tomorrow.”

After the meeting, Jacob found me at the window.

“You handled that perfectly,” he said.