Dying Was My Best Career Move

The first thing I smelled was the copper of my own blood. The last thing I felt was the jagged edge of a broken champagne bottle tearing through my carotid artery.

Then, I blinked.

The neon glare of the club was gone. In its place was the sterile, flickering fluorescent light of the Stratton & Co. marketing floor. I was back. Back to the Tuesday morning when Mindy first proposed the "team-building" night that would end my life.

In my previous life, it started with a whim. Mindy suggested we book a private lounge at The Ace of Spades, a high-end club where a single bottle of Armand de Brignac goes for three grand. She ordered ten. By 2:00 AM, shed slipped out the back with the rest of the team, claiming she was "checking the valet." She never came back.

The ownera man with a shaved head and a temper like a pressure cookerfound me alone in the wreckage of the VIP suite. He didnt care about corporate politics. He wanted his thirty thousand dollars. When I called Mindy, she laughed over the speaker. She told me the champagne tasted like it had been watered down and that the owner should be "honored" a firm like ours even stepped foot in his "dive."

He didn't feel honored. He felt murderous.

01

"Friday night. Private lounge at The Ace of Spades. Ive got ten bottles of gold-label bubbles on ice. Dont even think about being a no-show, babes!"

Mindy was leaning against my cubicle partition, a bottle of cold-pressed peach juice dangling from her hand. Her lip gloss left a sticky, coral-colored ring around the straw.

Peach. It was always peach. Sweet, soft, and cloying.

Five of our six-person team nodded eagerly. I was the only one who didn't look up from my monitor.

"Norah? Youre in, right?"

She tilted her head, her blonde highlights catching the office light.

I didn't hesitate. "No."

The sucking sound of the straw stopped. She kept the bottle to her lips, but her eyes narrowed. "Wait, why? Its Friday!"

"Im busy."

"Is it the money? Don't worry about the money, sweetie. Its coming out of the team-building budget. Howard already signed off on it."

"The quarterly budget is eight hundred dollars," I said, finally turning to face her. "Ten bottles of Ace of Spades is thirty thousand, plus the lounge fee. How exactly are you planning to expense that, Mindy?"

The rhythmic clicking of keyboards in the department faltered. Diane, our senior lead, let her fingers hover over the keys.

Mindy slowly lowered her juice and stood up straight. The smile stayed on her lips, but the warmth vanished from her eyes. "Norah, youre so literal. Its a hookup. The owner is a 'friend' of mine. Hes giving us a massive discount."

"How massive? Give me a percentage. Ill help you run the numbers against the company's audit policy."

She didn't answer. Her fingernail traced a sharp, nervous line down the side of her plastic bottle.

"Fine. If you want to be a buzzkill, be a buzzkill."

She turned on her heel. On her way back to her desk, she dropped a gourmet chocolate on Chriss keyboard and gave Diane a playful squeeze on the shoulder. Every move was calculated, a masterclass in social engineering. I had watched her play this game for a year. In my last life, I was just a pawn she sacrificed to clear her tab.

At 3:00 PM, Howard called me into his office.

"Norah, I heard youre skipping the team event?"

"Yes."

"Reasoning?"

"The cost is astronomical, Howard. Even at a fifty-percent discount, its ten times our allotted budget."

He tapped his fingers on his mahogany desk. There was a Yeti tumbler sitting there, decorated with a crooked heart sticker drawn by his young daughter. He looked like a family man, a responsible VP.

"Ill handle the financials. But Norah, your attitude is becoming a problem. Mindy works hard to keep morale up, and youre making her look bad in front of the group."

"Im not trying to make her look bad. Im asking a math question."

"Ask it privately then. Youre making it sound like shes... skimming."

He cut himself off, realizing where that sentence was heading.

"Just go. Try to be a team player for once."

When I stepped out, Mindy was waiting at the end of the hallway. She had a new juice. A larger one.

"What did Howard say, Norah?" Her voice was pure honey.

"Nothing."

"Good. Honestly, Im sorry I didn't consult you first. Next time, youll be the first person I ask, okay?"

She draped an arm over my shoulder. It wasn't heavy, but her sharp manicure poked right into the soft skin above my collarbone.

"Mindy, how many of these 'team events' have you organized this year?"

"I don't know... seven? Eight?"

"All on the company dime?"

"Duh. Thats what a budget is for."

"Do you keep the itemized receipts?"

Her grip tightened for a fraction of a second. Then she let go, her smile never wavering. "Why the sudden interest in accounting? Want to see them? I can show you everything."

"Don't bother," I said. "I'll find them myself."

I walked away. Her voice trailed after me, sweet and bubbly as if nothing had happened. "Okay! Suit yourself! Next time then!"

Back at my desk, my phone buzzed.

A voice note in the department group chat. Four seconds.

Mindys voice was a low, conspiratorial whisper, the kind meant to sound like a secret shared for your own good. "Norahs been under a lot of stress lately, guys. Lets all try to be extra kind to her, okay?"

Five minutes later, Diane peered over the top of her monitor, checking to see if anyone was listening.

"Norah," she breathed, her voice barely audible over the hum of the AC. "You shouldn't have picked a fight with her."

02

"Morning."

No one replied.

It was 8:06 AM. The office was a tomb of mechanical clicks and white noise.

I set my bag down and saw my computer was already on. The screen was stuck on a red system alert: Your account has been forcibly logged out. Please contact your administrator.

I looked under the desk. My power strip had been yanked outnot accidentally, but with enough force to leave a gouge in the plastic.

Chris sat across from me, his noise-canceling headphones on, eyes glued to his screen. He didn't even look up.

I went to HR to borrow a spare cable. When I returned, a Starbucks cup was sitting on my desk. The label read: Peach Green Tea Lemonade. Double Syrup. No name.

Mindys signature. She was the only one who ordered from that shop.

Under the cup was a Post-it note. Pastel pink. Her favorite.

Dont be mad, Norah! My treat. Peace offering? ~M.

I dropped the drink into the trash can. I kept the note, tucking it into my drawer.

At the 10:00 AM weekly status meeting, Howard was outlining the Q4 roadmap. When he got to the Market Expansion column, he paused.

"Norah, whats the status of the Highpoint Media project?"

Before I could breathe, Mindy cut in.

"Howard, I actually chatted with the Highpoint lead yesterday. I think theres been a little... friction in the communication? Im not sure, but he sounded a bit frustrated."

She sounded hesitant, like she was protecting me. It was a perfect performancejust enough to plant a seed of doubt in Howard, but vague enough to make her seem innocent.

"Friction?" Howard frowned. "What kind?"

"Just... technical stuff. He said the handoffs haven't been smooth. I didn't want to dig too deep since its Norahs baby, you know?"

She turned to me, eyes full of performative sympathy. "Don't be mad that I mentioned it, Norah. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

In less than fifty words, she had buried three landmines. One: she turned a non-existent complaint into a "fact." Two: she posed as the "reluctant" whistleblower. Three: she framed a betrayal as an act of friendship.

I stared at her. "The Highpoint lead told you this? When?"

"Yesterday afternoon. He called my cell."

"Did you call him back? Do you have a log?"

She laughed. It was the wounded laugh of a friend being interrogated. "Norah, youre acting like a prosecutor. I don't record my calls. Who keeps a log of a casual check-in?"

Chris chimed in immediately. "Exactly. Mindys just trying to help, and youre giving her the third degree"

"Enough," Howard snapped. "Norah, I want a full log of every interaction with Highpoint on my desk by EOD. Meeting adjourned."

At 2:00 PM, I bypassed our local drive and logged into the corporate ERP system.

Expense reports are filed under the Administrative module, one page per month.

March: Omakase dinner. $4,800.

April: Karaoke Lounge. $4,500.

June: Cross-departmental mixer at a mountain resort. 0-02,000.

The limit for a mixer is $5,000.

I pulled up the scanned attachment for the June retreat. It was a handwritten receipt with a blurry stamp. Looking closely at the digital scan, I could see the faint white edges of liquid paper where the original number had been covered. The "5" had been clumsily turned into a "12."

I hit Print Screen.

The second the file saved, a notification popped up in the corner of my screen.

Mindy.

What are you working on, Norah? Come downstairs for a snack! They have those new matcha cookies, my treat!

She was sitting three rows away, smiling at me over the sea of cubicles.

How did she know what I was looking at?

No thanks, I typed.

Dont be a hermit. Everyone thinks youre acting so weird lately.

I heard the click-clack of her stilettos on the tile. She leaned over my shoulder, the scent of her peach perfume so thick it made my throat itch. I could see the outer ring of her colored contact lenses.

"Norah," she whispered, her voice a low frequency meant only for me. "Some things in the system are meant to be read. Others... aren't."

"I'm just doing my job, Mindy."

"Good to know."

She straightened up and shouted to the room, "Afternoon snacks are on me! Add your names to the Slack thread!"

Within seconds, six emojis flashed in the channel.

No one tagged me.

When the elevator doors opened at 6:00 PM, it was just the two of us.

She spoke first. "Norah, just so you know... those workflows you were looking at? Howard was the one who signed off on all of them."

The elevator reached the lobby. The doors slid open. She stepped out, then turned back to look at me, a sharp, peach-colored smile on her face.

"Who do you think Howard is going to protect? You... or the system?"

03

"Norah, Highpoint Media pulled out."

Howard didn't even wait for me to sit down on Wednesday morning. He snatched the project folder off my desk.

"Pulled out? Why?"

"Their Director called yesterday. Said your communication style was 'abrasive' and requested a change in lead. Since theyre already halfway out the door, Im giving the account to Mindy to see if she can save it."

"He called Mindy? Not me? Not you?"

"He called Mindy. She brought it to me. It's done, Norah."

He walked away.

I pulled up my phone. I had the Highpoint Directors personal number. Our last text was from three days ago. He had sent a data sheet and added, Great work on the proposal, Norah. Very solid.

I typed: Hi, regarding the lead change, do you have a moment for a quick call?

I hit send.

A second later, a red exclamation point appeared.

Message not delivered.

It wasn't a network error.

He had blocked me.

Three days ago, I was his favorite strategist. Today, I was a ghost. I didn't know what had happened in those seventy-two hours, but I knew who had orchestrated it.

At lunch, I walked into the breakroom. Chris and two other associates were huddled around the microwave. The second I entered, their voices dropped to a muffled hum.

"...I heard the audit thing is getting serious..."

"Shhh, shes right there."

Chris grabbed his Tupperware and walked past me without a word. The others followed like ducklings.

The microwave hummed, spinning someone's abandoned leftovers. I stood there in the silence, feeling the oxygen being sucked out of the room.

When I got back to my desk, I realized my drawer was slightly ajar.

Everything had been moved. Not tossedcarefully searched and replaced. But my pens were facing the wrong way. My notepad had shifted an inch to the left.

The pink Post-it was gone. Mindy had reclaimed her trail.

And the thumb drive.

The grey drive where Id saved the ERP screenshots was gone. It had been sitting right next to my keyboard. Now, the space was empty.

I logged into my computer.

The screenshots on my desktop were gone. The trash bin had been emptied.

The security cameras in our zone had been "out for repair" for three months. Mindy had joked about it in the group chat back then: "Were all family here, who needs big brother watching?"

Family.

At 5:00 PM, Mindy returned from "off-site." She was carrying a large bakery box.

"Babes! I took a baking class! Who wants homemade sea-salt cookies?"

She distributed them one by one. When she got to me, she set a large, crumbling cookie directly on my desk.

"This ones the biggest. Just for you, Norah. Don't say I never give you anything."

Her voice was so sweet it felt like it was calcifying into sugar.

She hadn't said a single negative word about me in public all afternoon. But every person who walked past my desk looked away.

You don't need a broken bottle to kill someone. You just need to trap them in a world where everyone listens to you, and then slowly stop the air.

At the bus stop after work, Diane appeared next to me.

We both looked straight ahead.

"Howards wife is Mindys cousin," she said, her lips barely moving.

I cut my eyes toward her. "How did you find out?"

"Last years Christmas party. Howards wife came to pick him up. Mindy ran up and called her 'Cuz.' There were two hundred people in that hall, but I was the only one standing at the right angle to hear it."

The bus pulled up. Diane stepped on. Just as the doors were closing, she looked back.

"You can't win, Norah. Don't kill yourself trying."

04

Norah, please report to HR on the 19th floor immediately.

The email arrived at 8:00 AM. CCd: Howard, the HR Director, and Legal.

Legal.

In my last life, Legal never got involved in "performance reviews."

The conference room door was open. Five people were already seated.

Meredith, the HR Director, sat in the center. Mark from Legal was on the left. Howard was on the right. At the far end sat a middle-aged man in a sharp suit, flipping through a stack of printed documentsan outside auditor.

"Sit down, Norah."

Merediths voice was cold. She had a set of A4 papers spread out in front of her. Forms and signatures.

"Do you recognize these?"

She slid them across the table.

Five expense reimbursement forms. 0-0,600, $2,300, 0-0,800, $2,100, 0-0,900. Totaling nearly ten thousand dollars.

In the "Requested By" box was my signature.

Every single one.

The handwriting was terrifying. The slant of the 'N,' the way the 'r' loopedit looked exactly like mine.

Except I had never signed them.

"I didn't sign these."

"These were submitted using your employee ID and login," the auditor said, pushing his glasses up. "The system logs show five submissions over the last six months. Howard approved them under the impression they were for cross-departmental eventscatering, venue deposits, travel stipends."

"We cross-referenced," Meredith added. "Three of these events never happened. The other two cost less than five hundred dollars. The rest is... missing."

I looked at the signatures. In my last life, I hadn't lived long enough for the audit to catch up.

"Howard," I said, looking him in the eye. "Did you look at the content when you approved these?"

Howards face turned a dull grey. He gripped his Yeti tumbler until his knuckles went white. "Mindy told me you submitted them. She said she was helping you with the workflow because you were 'struggling' with the software. I trusted"

The door opened.

Mindy walked in.

Her eyes were red. She was clutching a tissue, her nose slightly pink. She had been crying, or she was perfectly prepared to.

"Sorry Im late," she whispered. She took the last empty chair. Right next to me.

"Meredith, I feel so responsible for this." Her voice trembled. "I helped Norah enter these into the system. She said she was confused by the interface, so I just... I did it for her. I didn't check the amounts. Were friends. I trusted her."

She looked at me.

In those watery eyes, I didn't see guilt. I saw the deep, satisfied hunger of a predator watching its prey hit the trap.

"Norah, just tell them. Tell them you asked me to do it."

"I didn't."

"If you say that..." her voice broke, "then whose signature is that?"

The auditor cleared his throat. "Weve done a preliminary comparison. The signature on these forms is a 91% match for the signature on Norahs original employment contract."

Meredith leaned forward. "Norah, you have two choices. You can cooperate and tell us where the money went, or we can involve the authorities and turn this into a criminal matter."

Mindys shoulders shook with a sob. She pressed the tissue to her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. Tears rolled down her cheeks, perfectly timed.

"Meredith, Norah is a good person. Maybe its just a... a misunderstanding?"

She didn't finish. She buried her face in her hands.

The four people in the room looked at Mindy with far more sympathy than they looked at me.

My keycard was confiscated. My laptop was locked. I was told to leave the premises immediately pending a full investigation.

The hallway was silent as I walked out. Mindy caught up to me at the elevator.

The tears were gone. Her face was dry, her foundation perfectly smooth.

"Norah, wait."

She stepped in front of the elevator doors. She pulled a bottle of peach juice from her bag, unscrewed the cap, and took a long sip.

"Do you know why I picked you?"

I didn't speak.

"Because you were 'useful.' On your first day, Howard asked who was willing to stay late to organize the archives, and you were the only one who raised your hand. I knew right then."

She wiped a drop of juice from her lip.

"Just admit it, Norah. Ten grand isn't that much. Pay it back in installments. Ill talk to Meredith, tell her youre going through a 'personal crisis.' Theyll fire you, sure, but they won't call the cops."

"And if I don't admit it?"

She tilted her head. Her false lashes fluttered. "Don't admit it? Norah, Ive seen the agenda for the Annual General Meeting next week. Your name is on the last slide."

She shook the juice bottle at me.

"Thats the slide for 'Public Termination for Cause.' See you then, babes."