1 A live feed of comments hovered in the air, visible to everyone. When I asked to postpone my mid-year review due to a migraine, the comments exploded. 【Wow, the villainess is such an actress. If the boss lets her go, our team’s ratings will tank.】 【Not like Isla—she works even through terrible cramps. A real pro.】 The VP instantly promoted Isla and canceled the rest of our reviews. I became an outcast. Later, when I filed a reimbursement, the comments stirred again: 【She didn’t buy half that stuff—she bought a designer bag with company money!】 【Isla covers overages with her own cash. She truly cares.】 Finance investigated all my past claims, docked my pay, and gave it to Isla as a “bonus.” Then, during a severe asthma attack at my desk, the comments floated by: 【She’s not sick—she’s pregnant and trying to blame someone!】 The whole office watched, cold and unmoved. No one called for help. Only Isla came over, saying, “Ava, what’s wrong? Let me take you to the break room.” But inside, she set the AC to 60°F, locked the door, and left me in freezing, dry air—trapped, suffocating. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day of the promotion review. This time, I could see the comments too. … I pressed my temples, my fingertips ice-cold as the familiar, splitting pain exploded behind my eyes. The conference room lights were blindingly bright, the PowerPoint slide frozen on the title: ‘Mid-Year Performance & Promotion Review.’ My eyes flew open. It wasn't a dream. I had been reborn. The next second, a dense cloud of comments materialized in the air. 【Here we go! Classic villainess move: the conveniently timed headache!】 【LMAO, no headache all morning, but the second it’s her turn to present? So predictable. She’s about to ask for a postponement.】 【Isla looks so pale today but she still showed up. Now THAT’S dedication!】 My gaze shot to Isla, sitting a few seats ahead of me. She had a slight frown on her face, one hand subtly pressed against her lower abdomen, a fine sheen of cold sweat on her brow. She was the very picture of stoic suffering. Sure enough, the comments flooded with sympathy. 【Aww, our poor baby Isla is pushing through the worst cramps!】 【Unlike some people! Faking sick just to get out of a presentation.】 At the head of the table, Vice President Davis was looking at me, his expression souring. "Ava Chen. Are you going to present or not?" In my past life, this was the moment where the pain became so unbearable that I could no longer focus. I had begged him, my voice hoarse. "Mr. Davis, could I possibly present a little later? My head is killing me…" I never expected him to sneer and immediately give the promotion to the "dedicated" Isla. He then announced that because of my "irresponsibility," our entire team was disqualified from the review process. From that moment on, I was the team’s scapegoat. So it was the comments all along. Now, Mr. Davis was tapping his pen impatiently on the table. "Ava, we're all waiting." Every eye in the room was on me, a mixture of scrutiny and annoyance. Right on cue, Isla let out a soft, sharp gasp, as if struck by a wave of pain, and spoke in a gentle voice. "Mr. Davis, perhaps I should go first? Ava doesn't look well at all…" I took a deep breath, fighting down the nausea and the stabbing pain in my temples, and slowly got to my feet. This time was different. I could see the comments now. I would not let Isla Vance build her career on my bones again. "My apologies for the delay, Mr. Davis, everyone." My voice was steadier than I expected. "I am feeling unwell, it's true. But this review is crucial, and I won't let a personal issue affect the team's evaluation." I picked up the presentation clicker, my grip so tight my knuckles turned white, steadying the slight tremor in my hand. "I will begin my presentation now." "If I'm unclear at any point, I apologize in advance." I paused, my eyes scanning the floating text, and allowed a faint, humorless smile to touch my lips. "And I'd like to reassure all my colleagues, especially those so… concerned about my health." "I will not be deserting my post and dragging you all down with me." The room fell silent. Mr. Davis’s frown lessened slightly, clearly surprised by my response. I saw Isla's hand, the one on her abdomen, stiffen for a fraction of a second. I centered myself and began, my voice still a bit weak, a cold sweat breaking out on my back. But every word, every data point, landed exactly where it was supposed to. By the time I finished, my shirt was soaked through. Mr. Davis’s brow, once furrowed, was now smooth. He nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. Though my colleagues still looked confused, a scattered, hesitant applause broke out. I let out a silent sigh of relief. This time, I could change my fate. But the next second, the comments reappeared. 【Wait, she actually finished? She was totally faking it!】 【Unlike our Isla, who spent three sleepless nights preparing, this one probably threw her slides together in thirty minutes.】 The text scrolled on, fueling the fire of hatred in my heart. Mr. Davis frowned, considering for a moment. "Alright, Ava, if you're not well, you're excused. Isla, you're up." Isla gave a small nod, then swayed on her feet as if she were about to collapse. 【See! THAT’S what not feeling well really looks like!】 【Isla’s parents are business titans. She’s been learning from the best since she was a kid. I can't wait to see her presentation!】 【If Isla gets this promotion, her powerful family will definitely throw some business our way!】 I stepped out of the conference room just as Isla finished her presentation to thunderous applause. Mr. Davis personally walked her back to her seat. "Despite feeling unwell, Isla delivered a stellar presentation. Her dedication is commendable, and her work is consistently excellent." Standing outside the door, I couldn't help but scoff. Her tasks were so simple it was nearly impossible to screw them up. Isla's voice trembled as she thanked the leadership team, earning even more sympathy from the room. Then, Mr. Davis made the announcement. "There's no need for anyone else to present. Based on today's performance and past achievements, the promotion goes to Isla Vance!" A strange mix of bitter resentment and profound relief washed over me. I was the top performer in the department, by a huge margin. But because I was an orphan, because I didn't have a pair of millionaire parents, did all my hard work count for nothing? Was my life, the one I’d lost, so easily trampled upon? I heard her triumphant voice from inside. "Thank you, Mr. Davis. I will do my best to lead the team and fight for this company's success." Isla’s long hair fell across her face, but not before I saw the venomous, triumphant look she shot in my direction. My blood ran cold. She was still coming for me. But this time, Isla, things are different. I turned and walked away, throwing myself into my work with twice the energy. It was my only defense, as Isla had already pushed me out of all core projects, demoting me to an office gofer—making coffee, running errands, and handling the thankless task of department purchasing and reimbursements. This was where she had trapped me in my last life. So now, every time I submitted a claim, I checked it three times over. One afternoon, as my reimbursement form made its way to the finance department, the damnable comments appeared again. 【Red alert! Ava Chen didn't buy all this stuff! She's inflating the prices!】 【I saw her use the company card to buy a luxury handbag for herself! The receipt is mixed in with the others!】 【Contrast that with our Isla. The department went slightly over budget on the last team event, and she quietly paid the difference out of her own pocket!】 The finance manager’s face darkened visibly. He stopped his pen mid-stamp and picked up my forms, scrutinizing them. Finally, he pulled out a few of the larger receipts. "Ava Chen," he said, his voice grave. "These 'Premium Client Gift Sets' and 'Executive Welcome Packages'... the unit price seems a bit high, don't you think? Explain yourself. Are you using company funds to buy personal items?" Just then, Isla’s soft, gentle voice cut in. "Mr. Peterson, it's all my fault. Ava probably isn't familiar with all the reimbursement policies yet… It’s possible a few personal receipts got mixed in by accident. Please forgive her." She was pretending to help, but she was just fanning the flames. The comments immediately piled on. 【Isla is too kind, still defending her!】 【How could she have so many receipts! Something is definitely fishy!】 My stomach dropped. This was exactly how it happened before. The baseless accusations from the comments, combined with a photo Isla had produced from god-knows-where of me supposedly carrying a new designer bag. I was left defenseless, branded an embezzler. My claim was rejected, my salary was docked, and the money was given to Isla as a "whistleblower reward." I shot a sharp look at her. "Team Leader Vance, what exactly are you implying? Did you personally see me include personal receipts? Do you have proof? Please, point them out." Isla was taken aback by my direct confrontation, momentarily speechless. But then she seemed to remember something and produced a photo she had prepared. The manager took it, his expression shifting again. But this time, I smiled. In my past life, I had the photo analyzed after the fact. It was a picture of Isla herself, with my face sloppily photoshopped onto her body. But by then, the punishment had been handed down, and I had no energy left to fight. That one incident led to relentless workplace bullying, a deep depression, and ultimately, my murder at Isla’s hands. I would not let her win this time. I calmly opened a folder I had prepared. "Mr. Peterson, here are the approval forms, contracts, delivery confirmations, and signed collection logs for every single purchase." I handed him the documents, one by one, and then held up my phone. "Those 'Premium Gift Sets' you mentioned? They were custom-made for the core team on our latest project. They were personally approved by Mr. Davis." I showed him a photo of the gift boxes, emblazoned with the company logo and the project's commemorative text. My evidence was irrefutable. The manager’s expression softened considerably as he reviewed my meticulous documentation. "As for this photo…" I raised my voice, pulling up the original picture that Isla herself had posted on her social media. "Mr. Peterson, I believe this is what you're looking for." His eyes, now sharp as daggers, shot toward Isla. I let out a cold laugh. "Isla, you need to work on your photoshop skills. That nail color, that design… I saw you with that exact manicure just last week." I paused deliberately, watching as she instinctively tried to hide her hands. "You buy yourself a luxury bag, then use a cheap AI filter to paste my face onto your body to frame me. Did you really think everyone is as obsessed with embezzling company funds as you are?" Isla trembled, her face ashen. The comments exploded. 【Isla was just doing her job as a team leader! She's a rich girl, why would she steal from the company?!】 【Exactly! Her parents own hundreds of companies, all bigger than this one!】 【If they punish Isla over something this petty, the company will lose more than it gains.】 Mr. Peterson, who had been about to erupt, stared into the empty air for a moment, his anger visibly deflating. "Alright, Isla's family is wealthy enough that she wouldn't need to stoop to this. It was just a misunderstanding. We'll leave it at that." I looked at Isla, and asked softly, "Isla, are you really from a wealthy family?" My question stunned everyone. A flicker of disbelief crossed Isla's eyes. "What did you just say? Do I not know my own family?" Her voice was laced with anger. I said nothing more and turned to leave, my hand tightening around a photograph sent to me by the orphanage. A month passed. Isla seemed to be laying low, but bouquets of flowers began appearing on her desk with increasing frequency. My desk was directly opposite hers, and even with a mask on, the pollen was a constant irritant to my respiratory system. The memory of suffocating to death was seared into my brain. I kept my asthma inhaler within arm's reach at all times, using it at the first sign of trouble. But one day, I had just sat down when my chest tightened. Isla wasn’t there. There were no flowers. A cold sweat soaked my back as the familiar, suffocating tightness seized my lungs. I immediately reached for my inhaler in the drawer. It was gone. I tried to stand, but my vision was tunneling. The damned comments appeared right on schedule. 【Here she goes again, faking sick for sympathy! Last time it was a headache, what is it now? So much drama!】 【She’s not sick, she’s pregnant and wants to trap someone! Whoever takes her to the hospital is gonna get blamed!】 【Stay away from her before she tries to pin it on you!】 I desperately looked at my colleagues, but their eyes were a mixture of suspicion, disgust, and cold indifference. Some even looked entertained. There was no concern, no urgency. Isla's voice appeared as if from nowhere. "Oh my, Ava, what's wrong? You look terrible…" She was holding a scruffy, long-haired cat. "Here, why don't you hold this cute little stray? Maybe it'll make you feel better." "Get it away!" I rasped. Clouds of cat hair filled the air, and the lack of oxygen made it almost impossible to speak. I tried to back away, but she moved to block my path. "I was just washing him in the restroom, and you know, someone left a pregnancy test in the trash! I wonder who's expecting?" she mused loudly. The comments immediately connected the dots. 【It’s Ava’s! She's trying to find a baby daddy at the office!】 My colleagues’ gazes became even more avoidant. "Oh well, I was probably mistaken," Isla said sweetly. "Come on, Ava, let me help you to the break room." She dropped the cat and grabbed my arm, her grip shockingly strong, pulling me toward the break room. The memory of that door, the freezing 60-degree air, the click of the lock—it all came flooding back in a wave of terror. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I tore myself from her grasp and fell to the floor, gasping for air, unable to move. "Someone… please… get the medicine from my bag," I choked out. "I'll give you… ten thousand dollars." Almost instantly, I heard the scrape of a chair. A glimmer of hope. But then Isla let out a piercing scream. "Don't listen to her! That's not asthma medication!" Her voice was laced with a desperate, vicious malice. "It's a new designer drug! Look at her! She's not having an asthma attack, she's an addict going through withdrawal!" "If you give that to her, you're helping her do drugs! That's a crime! Do you all want to go to jail?!" My colleagues' expressions morphed into horror. They scrambled backward, away from me. No… that’s not it… I couldn't speak, my body convulsing on the floor like a suffocating fish. Was I doomed to repeat my fate? To be murdered by Isla Vance all over again? Suddenly, a powerful, middle-aged man's voice boomed from the office entrance. "Which one of you is Ava Chen?" Behind him stood an elegantly dressed woman of the same age. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on me, purple-faced and dying on the floor. She cried out, rushing through the stunned crowd to cradle me in her arms.
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