Chapter 2

“From now on, this will be my private office,” Chloe announced, chin tipped up.

The smug expression on her face had no resemblance to the modest, soft-spoken intern I remembered.

“By ability?” I asked, my voice low.

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “You mean your ability to steal my basic app framework, change a few names, and pretend you built the whole system? Or do you just mean your ‘ability’ to look busy typing random nonsense whenever Mr. Miller walks past your desk?"

My quiet words stung, each one targeting her most sensitive spots.

These were details I’d only pieced together in hindsight.

She took advantage of the fact that I was too busy caring for my grandfather’s illness to pay close attention. She utilized her position as an intern, despite not having access to the core system, and only handled intermediate files and basic test cases.

In just a single month, she carefully created the illusion that she had 'deeply participated' in the project and even 'led' the entire system development.

The fake confidence on Chloe’s face shattered instantly, replaced by a deep flush of embarrassment.

Her breathing turned rapid, her composure unraveling.

"Y-You’re lying！” she snapped, her voice shrill, her eyes darting with panic.

She couldn’t even look me in the eye.

“You know better than anyone whether I’m making this up,” I replied, my tone staying cold. “The system you claimed to write is just a cheap copy of my original work. You just added some useless features on top to trick the bosses.”

I tilted my head, pressing the point. “Would you like me to line up your code with my original designs, side by side, and post it on a tech forum for everyone to check?”

That broke Chloe completely.

Her biggest weakness has always been a shallow technical base. She can’t handle serious scrutiny.

After all, Ethan Miller didn’t understand code. He could be fooled by surface polish.

But the tech world—the people who live and breathe code? They see everything.

Right there, Chloe’s face shifted from red to white, then white to a sickly green. Just then, her eyes caught sight of something: the old photo frame on my desk.

It was a family photo taken during a grand gathering last year. My grandfather, the most feared man in the city's underworld, stood right in the center, though in the photo he looked just like a regular, dignified older gentleman.

A flicker crossed Chloe's eyes.

“Look at this old man,” she sneered, staring at my grandfather’s picture. “No wonder he’s dying. He probably couldn't stand having a loser like you in the family.”

Suddenly, with a deliberately casual sweep, she knocked the frame off the desk.

It fell to the floor with a loud crash, shattering glass that scattered everywhere.

Chloe lurched a step forward and deliberately brought her foot down, hard, onto the broken glass and the photograph.

“Oh no, sorry, Bennett. Didn’t see it there,” she feigned innocence, grinding her heel into my grandfather's face. “But honestly, a dying old man and his pathetic family belong right here—under my shoe.”

In that instant, it felt like all the blood in my body rushed to my head. Insulting my family, the most powerful syndicate in the city, was a death sentence.

Smack!

My palm met her cheek, and the loud crack of the slap cut through the office.

Chloe’s head snapped to the side, a vivid red handprint already blooming on her cheek.

“Get out!” I shouted.

The office door flew open.

“Ms. Bennett, what the hell are you doing?!” Ethan barked.

Ethan Miller stood in the doorway, his face dark with anger. He must have been passing by and caught the scene.

Chloe wasted no time. Her inner actress came out instantly as she trembled with just the right amount of hurt and fragility.

“Mr. Miller, I-I just came to apologize to Ms. Bennett about the bonus. I didn’t know why she suddenly got so angry, and then she just hit me…”

“Bennett, you've gone too far!” Ethan roared. “The bonus decision is final. You don't get to lay a hand on a coworker just because you're jealous! She came here to be nice, and you treat her like this?”

“Apologize?” I turned to him coldly, pointing at the shattered frame and the footprints on the photo. “She insulted my family and trampled on them. That’s your idea of an apology?”