1 The new intern, Willow Banks, loved one phrase: "Let's go fifty-fifty." On our last trip, I paid $900 for our shared hotel room. She submitted the expense report, got fully reimbursed, and kept it all. “You went back early, Jess—used the room four extra hours a day. You’re taller, so you eat more and take more Uber space. And don’t forget my booking fee,” she said. Later, I made her part of my project team. She only printed files and ordered food, yet demanded half the bonus: “We did this together—$100k each.” Colleagues urged me to be understanding—she came from nothing, they said. Then she altered a design without approval, causing a $50,000 error. Tearfully, she proposed: “You cover the cost since you earn more. I’ll apologize.” I refused. She pushed me off the 18th-floor terrace. Those same colleagues took my bonus, drank champagne in Bali, and laughed: “Jessica had no backbone. She jumped when things got tough.” I wake up back on the day she asked for the receipts. This time, everyone will learn what it really means to go fifty-fifty with Willow. "Jess, let me handle the expense report for the trip." Willow’s sickly-sweet voice echoed in my ear. My entire body went rigid. I looked up at her, at that familiar, deceitful face, and the reality crashed down on me. I was back. I had been reborn. In my past life, I handed her the invoice for the $900 I’d paid for our hotel. The entire reimbursement went straight into her pocket. When I repeatedly asked for my share, she pulled out a calculator and spun a web of twisted "fifty-fifty" logic that left me with nothing. Later, the director assigned her to my team for a new, high-stakes project. As an intern, she had zero experience. Her daily tasks consisted of printing files and picking up packages. While I was pulling all-nighters perfecting the proposal, she was clocking out at five on the dot to go binge-watch shows in her dorm. The first phase of the project was a stunning success. The client was so impressed they expanded the scope of the work, and with it, the project bonus—to a whopping $200,000. The moment Willow heard the news, her eyes lit up. She marched straight to my desk. "Jess, we did this project together," she announced, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. "The bonus has to be split fifty-fifty. One hundred thousand dollars each. It's only fair." "I contributed my labor, too," she insisted. "And all labor is equal." "Printing documents is a technical skill. How could your project have succeeded without the materials I printed?" I was about to shut her down, but the office do-gooders swarmed in to play peacemaker. I remembered her stories about her poor family, about coming from nothing. I told myself the money was like a donation to a charity case. So, I nodded and agreed. The result? On another project—one I had no involvement in—she made an unauthorized change to a design, causing millions in damages and landing herself with a personal liability of $50,000. She came to me, her eyes brimming with tears. "Jess, it's because you weren't mentoring me on this one that I made a mistake." "We should split the responsibility fifty-fifty. Your salary is higher, so you can just cover the fifty thousand." "I'll take the hit to my pride and go bow and scrape to the client. Doesn't that sound fair?" I had never encountered such shamelessness. This was my career, my reputation on the line. I flatly refused. She immediately flew into a rage, physically attacking me. And the colleagues? They sided with her, scolding me for not being generous, for refusing to help a newcomer. In the chaos of the fight, Willow shoved me off the eighteenth-floor terrace. Then, she used my bonus money to bribe them. They all gave false testimony, claiming I had committed suicide because I couldn't handle the stress of the project error. With their payout secured, they celebrated on a beach in Bali, drinking, singing, and partying for a solid week, all while mocking me for being a stupid, gullible fool who was better off dead. The memory made my jaw clench, my face darkening with rage. Willow’s fifty-fifty system wasn't just for money and credit. It was for blame. It was even for life and death. "Jessica, what's wrong?" My deskmate, Tracy, nudged me with her elbow, pulling me back to the present. "Willow's just trying to be nice and help you with the expenses. Why the long face? Don't be so high and mighty just because you're a senior." Laura chimed in from the other side. "Yeah, she's just trying to help. You don't have to look so disgusted." There they were. The two of them. In my last life, they were the ones constantly whispering in my ear about how Willow was a poor girl from a disadvantaged background, how I needed to take care of her. I was softened by their words, not only letting the travel expenses slide but also buying Willow expensive designer gifts. Now I saw them for what they were: self-proclaimed saints, masters of being generous with other people's money. All they had to do was move their lips, and they earned a reputation for being kind and magnanimous. I was the idiot footing the bill. A cold smile touched my lips. Too bad for them. This time, there would be no more fifty-fifty with Willow. I couldn't wait to see if they'd still be smiling when they were forced to participate in Willow's special brand of fairness. I turned to Willow and shook my head, my expression softening into a polite smile. "That's okay. You're new here, and this is a critical time for you to learn and observe. I wouldn't want a small task like this to get in the way of your progress." Willow’s sweet smile froze for a fraction of a second before snapping back into place. "It's no trouble at all, Jess. It's the least I can do." "I insist," I said, my tone firm but kind. "Your future is what's important. I can handle it." She looked like she wanted to argue, but I had already turned back to my computer, ending the conversation. Last time, I accepted her "help" and lost $900. This time, I refused, and I would file the report myself. Let's see how she splits the money when she doesn't have the invoice. I had a pleasant, leisurely lunch and returned to my desk in high spirits. Willow, on the other hand, was visibly on edge, picking at her food distractedly. Back at the office, I focused on my proposal, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see her fidgeting. She kept glancing my way, looking like she was about to burst. I pretended not to notice. Finally, around three in the afternoon, I calmly printed out the expense form, took out the invoice, and began gluing it to the paper. Willow’s eyes tracked my every move, her anxiety palpable. The moment I stood up to walk to the finance department, she couldn't hold it in any longer. She shot up and blocked my path. "Jess, um… you should give me that invoice." I raised an eyebrow. "And why would I do that?" "I've been doing the math carefully. Based on our fifty-fifty agreement, the entire reimbursement amount should go to me." I scoffed internally. All $900. The nerve. I was curious to see what new, twisted logic she’d come up with this time. I feigned surprise. "All of it? But we shared the room. Shouldn't it be split in half? I'll take four-fifty." "But we agreed to go fifty-fifty," Willow said, her energy instantly returning. I nodded. "Right. Fifty-fifty." She cleared her throat and launched into her spectacular performance. "During the trip, you went back to the hotel to rest at seven every evening, while I had to stay out working until eleven. You used the room for four more hours a day than I did." "Calculated by usage time, you should be responsible for two-thirds of the room cost. That's six hundred dollars." The classic argument. Word for word from my past life. I played along. "Alright. Minus the six hundred, that leaves three hundred. You can give me that, right?" "Nope," Willow shook her head immediately. "That won't work either." "I paid for all the meals and the Ubers upfront." "And Jess, you know you're about four inches taller than me. You take up more space in the car." "You eat more, too. So you should pay a larger share of those costs." She ticked off the points on her fingers, clearly enjoying herself. "Meals and rides came to four hundred dollars total. Proportionally, you owe me two-hundred and sixty." "Plus, we used my ride-sharing app, so you owe me a daily user fee for that." The same old script. No originality at all. I stared at her coldly, saying nothing. Seeing my lack of reaction, she quickly added, "Normally, I'd charge a service fee for booking the rides. We took twenty rides over ten days. At ten dollars a ride, that's two hundred dollars." "But since you were mentoring me on the trip, I'll give you a thirty percent discount. So, just one-forty." She finished with a triumphant look, as if she were doing me a massive favor. "So, you don't need to transfer me anything. The reimbursement from this trip will just about cover what you owe me." The air was silent for a few seconds. I raised my hands and gave a few slow, deliberate claps. Willow was completely baffled, frozen in place. I let out a soft laugh. "Your math is impressive." I picked up the expense form, tapping it with my finger. "However, you seem to have a fundamental misunderstanding of company policy, not to mention basic common sense." "Hotel accommodation, transportation, and meal expenses are all reimbursed on a per-person basis, up to a standard limit." "The hotel charges by the night, not the hour. You could sleep in there for twenty-four hours straight or not step foot in the room at all. It makes no difference." "The extra four hours I was in the room wasn't time I 'took' from you. It was you giving up your right to use the room by choosing to be elsewhere." She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "We took an SUV for every ride. There was plenty of space. We could have fit three more of you in the back. If you wanted to take up more room, you could have laid down. I wouldn't have cared." I paused, watching the color drain from her face. "As for the food, you're a small person with a small appetite who consistently ordered more than you could eat." "I never touched your portion. You wasted it. You feel like you lost money? Go ask the restaurant if they give refunds on leftovers." Willow’s face flushed red and then went pale. She clearly hadn't expected me to dissect her logic so thoroughly. Her eyes darted around, and she immediately switched tactics, her voice turning pitiful. "Well… what about the effort I put in booking the rides? Doesn't that count for something?" "Jess, you know my situation. I come from a poor family in a small town. I have two younger brothers I need to support through school." "Your salary is so high. A small service fee isn't too much to ask, is it?" And there it was. The victim card. Guilt-tripping 101. "This is the first I've heard of a mandatory, unsolicited service fee," I said flatly. "You never mentioned a charge beforehand. Otherwise, I would have just used my own account." "Besides, the hotel concierge can book a car for you. Your 'service' was completely unnecessary." Her voice grew shrill with desperation. "But you still benefited from my service!" I pretended to think about it seriously. "You're right. I did. Tell you what, I'll pay you back in kind. From now on, I'll book all your Ubers." "Do you need a ride home today? I can call one for you… right now?" I made a move to grab my phone. Willow's face went black with fury. Her lips trembled, and her eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill over. Just as expected, the office saints, Tracy and Laura, swooped in. "Jessica, that's not appropriate," Tracy said with a frown. "Willow's family doesn't have much. Why are you nickel-and-diming her like this?" "Exactly," Laura added. "You make so much money. Why are you being so cheap? It’s not that much money. Is it really worth all this fuss?" Not that much money? It was $900. Willow’s entire monthly salary as an intern was less than that. Tracy shot me a dirty look and wrapped an arm around Willow, comforting her. "It's okay, Willow. Next time, you and I can split things. I won't let you get cheated like this!" I looked at these two walking, talking monuments to performative virtue and almost burst out laughing. My memories of the last life told me that Willow was no pushover. She would never be satisfied with just verbal support. I couldn't wait to see their spectacular fifty-fifty partnership in action. I hoped their wallets were as tough as their words. Not long after, the director assigned me to lead the Sterling Project. With a decade of experience, I was the company's undisputed top performer. As soon as the news broke, Willow came scurrying over. "Jess, you're amazing! The company trusts you with a huge project like Sterling!" "Jess, can I join your team? I really want to learn from you." In my past life, I thought her desire to learn was genuine. I taught her everything I knew, sharing my experience and strategies without reservation. It turned out to be a complete waste of time. She was incompetent at everything. With deadlines looming, I had no choice but to relegate her to printing and mailing documents. And yet, in the end, she thought that menial work entitled her to half of my bonus. "I have too much on my plate right now," I replied coldly. "I don't have time to mentor you." She immediately put on a pitiful expression. "Jess, please. I really want to learn from you. I know I come from a small town and I'm not as worldly, but I really want to make something of myself based on my own abilities." I didn't even look up from my computer screen. "I'm honestly too busy. You can ask someone else." This time, I wouldn't give her a single opportunity to leech off me. She wouldn't even get to touch the printer paper. With that, I ignored her and dove back into my work. As Willow turned to leave, I snuck a glance at her. The wounded expression on her face had twisted into a flicker of venomous resentment. My stomach sank. I knew it. She wasn't going to give up that easily. I hadn't even had half a day of peace before the director stormed over to my desk, his face dark. "Jessica, what is your problem? Has life gotten too comfortable for you?" His tone was hostile. The office fell silent, and I could feel several pairs of eyes on my back, watching the show. "An intern wants to learn from you, and you refuse? You were a rookie once, too. Where's your empathy?" "That girl came from nothing. It's not easy for someone like her to have ambition. Your coldness is just cruel." "What are you afraid of? That she'll surpass you one day? You're being incredibly petty." He laid on the passive-aggressive guilt trip, and I mentally rolled my eyes. Plenty of people come from humble beginnings. None of them were as skilled at being a parasite as she was. In my past life, they had successfully divided up my bonus. Besides Tracy and Laura's false testimony, the director had also played a key role. After my rebirth, I did some digging and discovered the truth: Willow was his son's college girlfriend. He had pulled strings to get her the internship. The company had a strict anti-nepotism policy, so his son couldn't work here, but the spot naturally fell to his "future daughter-in-law." No wonder he was so quick to come and lecture me. I didn't want to engage, but I maintained a basic level of professionalism. "Director, I am genuinely too busy. I don't have time to teach Willow properly, and I'd hate to waste her talent." "Don't worry about it. She's a natural. She doesn't need you to teach her; she can learn just by watching," the director said, waving his hand dismissively and cutting me off. "This project is highly complex and has a steep learning curve. She should start with something more basic—" "That's enough," he boomed, slapping his hand on my desk to finalize the decision. "It's settled. Willow will join your team and assist you. An extra pair of hands will get the work done faster. That's an order." What could I say? He was the boss. I nodded. "Understood, Director." And just like that, the ghost of Willow was haunting my project team again. She spent her days slacking off. The tasks I assigned were done with a lazy, half-hearted effort. She couldn't even be bothered to fix basic formatting. Sometimes I'd ask her to organize client data, and she would misspell the client's name. Out of professional integrity, I continued to handle the Sterling Project with the utmost seriousness. Revenge was one thing, but Sterling hadn't wronged me. I wouldn't let my personal issues jeopardize my work. Soon, the first phase of the project was completed, with results that far exceeded expectations. Just like in my previous life, the director announced at the review meeting, his face beaming with pride. "Great news, everyone! Sterling is extremely satisfied with our proposal. They've not only approved the first phase but have also decided to increase the budget. The CEO has personally approved a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus for the project team!" The conference room filled with applause. Everyone was ecstatic. But for me, alarm bells were ringing. The familiar script was about to play out again. Sure enough, Willow suddenly stood up. "Director, I think we should adopt a more modern approach to the bonus allocation. A fifty-fifty system would be more equitable." She cleared her throat, looking the very picture of righteous indignation. "Many interns contributed their labor as well and should be included in the bonus distribution. All labor is equal, after all." The director immediately voiced his loud support. "An excellent point, Willow! We absolutely should consider the contributions of all participants." Tracy and Laura were quick to chime in. "Exactly! We all saw how hard Willow worked, staying late every night." "It's two hundred thousand dollars. What's the big deal about giving a little to the intern? You're not going to be that stingy, are you, Jess?" I watched the four of them perform their well-rehearsed act and nearly started clapping. The same script, the same lines, all over again. In my last life, this was the exact tactic she used to walk away with half of my bonus. A full one hundred thousand dollars went into Willow's pocket. But this time, I was ready. Under the varied gazes of everyone in the room, I didn't get angry. Instead, I smiled. "Well said. I wholeheartedly support Willow's proposal." "In fact, I have a proposal of my own that will perfectly complement hers." I stood up and connected my laptop to the projector.
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