The year-end review was a formality for me. My performance was exemplary, and the promotion to Department Director was sealed. Then, my boyfriend reported me on the spot. He accused me of misappropriating company funds for personal shopping during an overseas business trip. His proof? A video he’d originally filmed for my professional vlog. The footage clearly showed me at a high-end vintage market in Barcelona, spending exactly one hundred thousand dollars on a handful of brittle, aged letters. “Samantha, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ringing with fake righteousness. “Even though you’re my girlfriend, I can’t in good conscience cover this up. You don't deserve the Director position. Madison is far more qualified.” Madison Stone, my biggest internal rival, turned to me, her face contorted in manufactured outrage. “Samantha Rory, you spent that kind of money on old paper? This is money laundering!” Our senior leadership immediately convened an investigative committee. They looked at me with varying degrees of disappointment and suspicion. I remained still, outwardly calm, though rage was already churning in my stomach. They called them "old paper." They had no idea. Those documents were classified WWII-era letters detailing unprosecuted war crimes—a goldmine for an international historical justice foundation. The commendation from the Department of National Security for securing them was already in the pipeline. 1 Mr. Wallace, the Executive Vice President, watched the video and frowned. “Samantha, this is extremely serious. You need to explain yourself.” I stared at Blake Harrington, utterly blindsided. I still couldn’t believe he would throw me under a bus—and all for Madison. Just last night, he’d held me close, trying to soothe me out of my career drive. “Samantha, honey, why don’t you drop the competition with Madison? The Director role is too much stress. It’s a grind.” “Besides,” he’d continued, condescendingly, “when we get married, you’ll want to prioritize family and kids. Just take a low-stress role. You know I can take care of us.” I’d been repulsed. “The future is the future, Blake. I’ve worked too hard to give up now. Don't bring that up again.” He’d gone quiet, his face tight. Later, in the dead of the night, I’d woken up and found his side of the bed empty. I’d assumed he was just dealing with a last-minute work emergency in his study and had gone back to sleep. Now, I knew. He had been preparing my public execution. I took a deep breath, smothering the urge to lunge across the table at him, and addressed Wallace. “Sir, that’s not the full story. I encountered an urgent, time-sensitive situation abroad. I didn't have immediate access to my personal accounts, so I had to temporarily use company funds. I reimbursed the full amount the moment I returned.” I pressed the point. “Before using it, I notified Gary Powell in Accounting. It was a verbal pre-approval, but you can confirm the immediate repayment with him.” Wallace, who usually valued my work ethic, didn't want to see me fall on a fundamental ethics violation. He immediately instructed his secretary. “Ms. Turner, please verify the financials right now. Then bring Gary Powell in here.” “Right away, sir.” Moments later, Ms. Turner returned with Gary, the head of Accounting. Gary was a naturally shifty man, good at sniffing out the safest path. He scanned the room, smiled nervously, and spoke. “I heard the summary from Ms. Turner,” he chirped. “Ms. Rory’s account is perfectly balanced. She repaid the full amount immediately upon her return. My ledger is crystal clear.” Madison, however, wasn’t done. Without even glancing at the ledger, she cornered him. “Gary, we all trust your accounting. But Samantha said she got your verbal pre-approval before spending the $100,000. Do you recall that conversation?” She didn't give him a chance to answer. “One hundred thousand dollars—is that an amount you can casually approve with just a sentence?” Gary’s eyes darted away. He slapped his forehead dramatically. “Oh, man, I truly can’t recall! That day, I was running a high fever, a real flu. I vaguely remember taking a call from Samantha, but honestly, I completely forgot what we discussed.” He turned to me, his tone apologetic but firm. “Samantha, do you have a recording, or any proof to back that up?” I understood. Gary was a master of self-preservation. He would never risk his job to cover my rear. He was giving me an out, but I hadn’t recorded the rushed call. My face went pale. “I… I don’t have proof.” “But the item I bought was critically important. It was an emergency situation, and I fixed the financial side immediately. No damage was done to the company’s bottom line!” Blake and Madison exchanged a look of smug victory. Blake leaned forward, his voice dripping with moral superiority. “You're still trying to wriggle out of it? How important can a few scraps of old paper be? And just because you paid it back doesn’t erase the violation, Samantha. Rules are rules. If everyone bypassed protocol like this, the entire firm would fall into chaos.” He delivered the final blow. “I recommend severe disciplinary action against Samantha as a warning to others. And the Director position must go to Madison.” 2 Wallace considered this for a moment and nodded. “Blake has a point. Samantha, you’ll go home, take a period of leave, and publicly apologize to the department for the ethics violation.” He sighed, the disappointment evident. “The Department Director position will be filled by Madison Stone.” Madison beamed instantly. “Thank you, Mr. Wallace! I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll lead by example.” She shot me a look, a victorious, silent smirk of pure malice. Next to her, Blake was gazing at Madison with such genuine warmth and pride. It hit me like a shot of cheap tequila. This wasn't just about a promotion. This was about her. Blake hadn't just met his college acquaintance; he had meticulously planned to put her in my spot. Flashes of the past few months played out in my mind: the hickeys Madison hadn’t bothered to cover around me, the scent of a new, unfamiliar cologne on Blake’s shirts, their suspiciously synced travel schedules. Even now, Madison was wearing a delicate silver necklace I'd seen sitting in Blake’s Amazon cart weeks ago. They had been playing me for a fool. My original plan was to let the National Security team complete their verification of the letters. Once the historical significance was confirmed, the commendation would clear everything up. But the sheer audacity, the treacherous, hateful look on their faces—it broke my composure. I am many things, but a quiet victim is not one of them. “Madison can have the job over my dead body,” I stated, my voice dangerously level. “She does not have the competence.” I unleashed my own list. “Last September, she carelessly lost the finalized contract for the Windsor account. I spent two weeks begging and negotiating to salvage that mess for her.” “In June, she took unauthorized photos in the secure R&D lab and posted them on her social media, which I discovered and forced her to delete immediately.” “In February, she—” I listed every screw-up, every professional disaster. It wasn't because I'd been tracking her; it was because Blake had begged me every time to cover for his "innocent student friend." I’d been naive enough to take Madison under my wing, treating her as a friend and a mentee, patiently teaching her the unspoken rules of the firm, even knowing she was my competitor. I had never sabotaged her. My reward? A knife in the back. Madison immediately panicked under the scrutiny of the senior leadership. She pointed a shaking finger at me. “Samantha, shut up! Those are lies! I never did any of that!” “I have the receipts, Madison,” I countered coolly. “Enough, Samantha!” Blake roared, his face mottled with fury. “Are you so determined to destroy her? You’re just jealous because she’s younger, prettier, and has a better degree than you! This is your mistake—own it, don’t try to slander her!” I fixed him with a cold stare. I let out a low, bitter laugh. “Oh, Blake. I was so focused on her, I forgot to save some vitriol for you. You cheated on me, your fiancée, with this snake, and then tried to use corporate espionage to get her promoted? I’m going to make sure everyone in this office knows the truth. Let’s see how long your ‘upright’ reputation lasts then.” Blake was a creature of reputation. The truth of the affair, exposed publicly, enraged him more than the job loss. His false mask completely shattered. “I’m a man of integrity! You won’t get away with this slander, Samantha! Are you forcing me to expose your real crimes?!” Expose me? I raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “Blake, what exactly do you think you’re going to expose?” His face was shadowed, his jaw clenched, and his voice dropped to a menacing, desperate whisper. “I suspect Samantha Rory is a foreign agent committing economic espionage!” 3 “What?” “That’s impossible!” Blake’s accusation stunned the room into a gasping silence, myself included. Wallace’s expression turned deeply serious. He leaned across the table. “Blake, this is not a personal issue. You cannot throw around the word ‘agent’ without proof. That’s a charge of treason.” “I have proof,” Blake insisted. “Look.” He pulled up the video feed, enlarging the image of the aged letters until the script was clearly visible. It was archaic Japanese script. “Everyone can see the language. If Samantha isn’t a foreign agent, why would she spend a hundred thousand dollars on these old Japanese letters and documents?” He wasn’t finished. “I saw with my own eyes how valuable they were to her. She kept them secured in a small safe, even when she was in the shower. Who was she hiding them from? She was hiding her true identity!” His tone was sharp and conviction was heavy, and now everyone in the room looked at me with open suspicion. This was ludicrous. “You see an image, you guess the language, and you leap to ‘economic espionage’? Blake, you are unhinged!” I countered. “Those documents are incredibly important, but not just to me. They are vital to international historical justice. I had a reason.” Madison scoffed. “Please, Samantha. You always talk big. If you're so innocent, prove it. Bring those ‘important’ letters in right now. We’ll find someone who can translate them for us.” Wallace’s face was dark. His remaining trust in me had evaporated. “Samantha, bring the documents. If they contain mundane information, your innocence is proven. But if they contain classified foreign or military intelligence, as Blake suggests, I will personally turn you over to Homeland Security.” But the documents—the WWII documents proving war crimes—had already been submitted to the National Security team. They were conducting a critical, time-sensitive verification, and they had specifically instructed me to maintain absolute secrecy about their contents. I could not speak. My silence confirmed their suspicions. Blake acted the part of the grieving patriot. “Samantha, please don’t blame me for reporting you. I’m doing this for our country. Frankly, I’ve been suspicious for a while—your insistence on traveling to certain countries last year, your interest in foreign-language media…” He lowered his voice. “It’s not too late to confess. I’ll even speak to the authorities on your behalf.” I stared at his pathetic performance and laughed again, a harsh, humorless sound. “Blake, you are so desperate to get Madison that promotion, you’ve concocted this insane lie. I promise you, I will sue you for every dime you have for slander and defamation.” Ignoring him, I looked back at Wallace. “Sir, I have reasons I absolutely cannot disclose, but by tomorrow, everything will be clear. I am innocent.” Wallace was done. He sighed, shaking his head. “Samantha, if you won’t talk, then you can speak to the police when they arrive.” He turned and walked out, his disappointment a palpable weight in the room. While we waited, Madison did the unthinkable. She pulled out her phone and started an Instagram Live, zooming in on the enlarged image of the letters on the screen. “Everyone look! This woman is a spy! A foreign agent! These are the Japanese letters she bought for one hundred thousand dollars! We caught her red-handed!” “She pretended to be an honest patriot, but she’s nothing but a traitorous criminal!” Her words instantly ignited a firestorm in the comments. The accusation of treason is explosive in the US context. The stream had thousands of views instantly. They were cursing me, and worse, cursing my elderly parents. My stomach dropped. I had only been waiting for the police to clear my name, but this was a catastrophe. My parents were both elderly, Dad with high blood pressure and a fragile heart. The stress could kill him. 4 Seized by panic, I lunged forward, grabbing Madison’s hair and knocking her phone away. “Madison, those documents cannot be leaked! You have no right to film me! You’re going to hurt my parents!” Blake grabbed me from behind, wrapping his arm tightly around my neck, forcing me to release Madison. He then delivered a hard, vicious slap across my face that made my eyes water. “This is your fault, Samantha! Don’t you dare lay a hand on Madison! If you hurt her, I swear I’ll make you regret it!” Madison stumbled into Blake’s embrace, looking up at him with a faux-vulnerable expression while her eyes, fixed on me, were pure triumph. She cooed, “Thank you, Blake. Samantha always bullies me and steals my credit. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” “Don’t worry, Maddie. I’ll always protect you. This venomous woman will get what she deserves.” I touched the corner of my mouth, tasting blood. The camera in the office would have caught that slap—he’d pay for that later. But right now, my priority was my parents. I fumbled for my phone and frantically called my mother. Finally, the video call connected. I yelled into the receiver. “Mom! You and Dad need to stay inside today! Don’t open the door for anyone!” Mom’s voice was confused. “Why, honey? What’s going on?” Just then, a loud, violent series of bangs against their front door nearly deafened me. I screamed, “Mom, don’t open it! DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!” But my father, coming out of the kitchen, had already reached the doorknob. He opened it. A dozen angry, frantic people surged into the house. They pointed at my parents and screamed. “Samantha Rory is a traitor! Her parents are traitors! You animals, selling out your own country!” My father, who had always been so proud of me, immediately tried to fight back. “You’re lying! My daughter is an executive! She is dedicated and honest! She would never betray her country!” My mother shouted, “Don’t you insult my daughter! Get out of our house!” But the mob wouldn’t listen. They shoved my parents to the floor and began yelling and smashing things. My parents tried to stop them but were no match for the strong young crowd. They were pushed down again and again. Suddenly, Dad’s face went white. He clutched his chest, struggling to breathe. Mom rushed to him, trying to soothe him. His heart. He was having an attack. I had to get him to a hospital now. I stood up and bolted toward the door, but Blake was there instantly, blocking my path. “Let me go! My father is having a medical emergency! I need to save him! Blake, did you forget everything my dad did for your career? If you have an ounce of decency, you won’t stop me!” “No! That’s irrelevant! Samantha, you have to wait for the police. You can’t leave!” Watching my father’s ashen face in the video feed, I was frantic. I fought Blake, yanked my arm free, and my trembling fingers punched 9-1-1. The second the operator answered, Madison grabbed my phone and smashed it onto the floor. She hissed, “Calling anyone won’t help you now! Even if the sky falls, you are going to stay here and wait for your arrest!” I glared at her and the wall that Blake had become, my teeth grinding with helpless fury. But I had to be rational. My parents were in danger. When they weren't looking, I sprinted toward the nearest window. It was the second floor, but I didn’t hesitate. I threw myself out, landing hard on the pavement. A white-hot spike of pain shot through my ankle. Madison appeared at the window above, pointing down at me. “She’s running! She’s a spy! Don’t let her get away!” Ignoring the screaming pain in my twisted ankle, I hobbled to the curb and hailed a taxi. Just as I reached the door, several local police officers swarmed me, slamming me face-down on the ground. The cold metal of handcuffs clicked onto my wrists. Blake and Madison rushed down the stairs, their faces alight with satisfaction. “Trying to run, Samantha? You do have something to hide! Let’s see you talk your way out of this!” I looked up at them, my eyes burning with tears and hatred. “If anything happens to my parents, I promise you, I will never forgive you!” Just then, the scene exploded. A convoy of over a dozen black, unmarked SUVs and official government vehicles roared up and surrounded the area. Dozens of agents, wearing tactical gear, emerged and strode toward us. Madison looked at the massive show of force and cackled with pure malice. “Even if your parents die, Samantha, they got what they deserved! Look at this, they sent half the government to catch you! Enjoy your cell!” Before her smile could set, a powerful, authoritative voice cut through the chaos. “Who said we’re here to arrest Samantha Rory?”

? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "389838", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel