She Shared My Birthday, I Destroyed Her Family

For my birthday, I booked a private banquet room at the finest hotel in town. The guests, friends, and colleagues had all arrived, and the atmosphere was perfect.

But just as the dinner was about to begin, the hotel host smiled and tapped the microphone.

Next up, lets welcome our two birthday stars to the stage!

I froze. Two?

Then, Becca, a colleague notorious around the office for her cheap, freeloading ways, walked up to the stage with a beaming smile.

"Surprise, everyone! Naomi and I actually planned this together. Our birthdays are on the exact same day, so we figured, why not share the party? The more the merrier!"

She turned to me, her voice dripping with mock warmth.

"Right, babe? We're practically sisters. Today's feast is on us, so please, don't hold back!"

She smiled sweetly, clearly betting that with the company executives watching, I wouldn't dare make a scene to call her out.

Looking at the party I had poured my heart and hard-earned money into designing, only to have her hijack it, a cold sneer formed in my chest.

Fine. Since she loved celebrating her birthday so much, I would make sure today became a day she would never forget as long as she lived.

Listening to Becca's shameless speech, I trembled with rage. When had I ever agreed to share my birthday? I stood up, preparing to object, but the senior executives in the front row were already leading a round of applause.

"Wonderful concept! It's both economical and lively. Our younger staff really know how to think outside the box."

"The venue looks stunning too. Since the organizer has such talent, maybe we should hand over the company's annual gala to our younger employees next year."

Hearing this, Beccas eyes lit up. She nodded eagerly, taking full credit for the planning without a shred of hesitation.

I was utterly dumbfounded. Not only had she hijacked my party, but she was also stealing my work as a stepping stone to boost her own career. We weren't even close, let alone friends. I couldn't let this slide.

I took a step forward, ready to storm the stage, but my immediate supervisor grabbed my wrist. He had clearly sensed the tension and knew something was off, but he hissed a quiet warning in my ear.

"Naomi, I don't care what's going on here, but you cannot make a scene right now. Those executives are from headquarters, and they absolutely despise office politics. If you ruin this event, not only will you be fired, but our entire branch will suffer the consequences."

His words felt like a bucket of ice water, completely extinguishing my hot rage. I froze.

Marcus was right. I had spent so much money on this dinner to make a good impression on the higher-ups and secure a promotion. If I blew things up now, even if I exposed Becca, my career at the firm would be finished.

But swallowing this bitter pill felt like choking on glass.

Before I could figure out what to do, Becca called my name.

She smiled and pulled me up onto the stage, playing the generous mentor who loved supporting the younger generation.

"And here is my dear friend, Naomi, who shares this special day with me! She's still a junior, but she's incredibly sharp. She was a huge help in bringing my vision to life."

With a few sweet words, she erased all my effort, framing my hard work as merely helping her, while presenting herself as the benevolent senior sharing the spotlight.

The executives looked at her with growing admiration. In their eyes, Becca was already a highly capable, generous mentor.

My throat felt dry, but under the gaze of the corporate elite, I could only plaster on a fake smile and nod.

When that agonizing segment finally ended, I rushed backstage to find my work friends to vent, but they avoided my gaze, slipping away like I was infectious.

They whispered behind my back.

"I can't believe Naomi. Why didn't she tell us she was sharing the party with Becca? She told us not to bring cash gifts, so we only bought a small present for her. Now we look incredibly awkward in front of Becca."

"Honestly, she seems so calculating. Her family always seemed well-off, but she's just as cheap as Becca. Maybe that's how she saves her money, by freeloading off others."

My chest tightened. They already saw us as birds of a feather. The office relationships I had spent months carefully nurturing had vanished in a single instant.

Trembling with frustration, I grabbed a passing server. "What is going on here? Who gave you permission to add another person to my booking?"

The server looked bewildered. After checking my original booking and communication logs, her face grew serious, and she apologized profusely.

"I am so sorry, Ms. Naomi. Our staff must have made a terrible error. Please wait here. I'll get the manager to clear this up immediately."

I stood there, arms crossed, waiting for a proper explanation.

Soon, the manager walked over, his expression stiff. Before I could even start complaining, he cut me off with an irritated tone.

"Ms. Naomi, we've reviewed the situation. There has been no error on our end. Ms. Becca came to us this morning and explicitly told us this was a shared party. We even scrambled to add extra staff, and we didn't even charge you for the extra labor. We've been more than accommodating. Besides, if you didn't agree to it, why didn't you say anything on stage?"

I stared at him, my anger boiling over. "Are you serious right now? Your staff made a massive blunder, and now you're blaming me for not starting a fistfight in front of my company's board of directors? Anyone can just walk in, claim they share a reservation, and you don't even bother to verify it with the person who paid the deposit? Is this how a luxury hotel operates?"

The manager stuttered, unable to find a logical excuse under my fierce gaze. Instead, he resorted to condescending lecturing.

"Look, young lady, why must you be so difficult? Life is about relationships. Your colleague just got praised by the executives, meaning her future is bright. Instead of using this chance to build a connection, you're here trying to pick a fight over petty details. Besides, didn't you get the party you paid for? The venue, the food, the service, it's all here. You got what you wanted, didn't you?"

I could barely believe my ears. Not only were they refusing to fix their mistake, but they were actually lecturing me on business etiquette.

"What did I get? Why should I spend my hard-earned money just so someone else can ride my coattails for free? Your hotel completely breached the contract we signed! Either you offer me a reasonable compensation plan right now, or I demand a full refund!"

The moment "full refund" left my mouth, the manager's face darkened, and he let out a sneering laugh.

"I knew it. A young girl like you couldn't actually afford a banquet of this scale. You're just trying to find an excuse to scam us out of a free meal, aren't you?"

Just then, Becca walked over, wearing a sickeningly sweet, placating smile.

"Oh, Naomi, don't ruin a perfectly good birthday by fighting. The manager is right. You got your party, so demanding a refund is just cheap. We can't behave like freeloaders, can we?"

The manager nodded eagerly. "Exactly! Ms. Becca is far more reasonable. No wonder the executives like her."

The two of them stood there, tag-teaming to gaslight me, completely ignoring the rage radiating from me.

"Manager, is it time to bring out the cake? Everyone is waiting," Becca asked.

The manager turned to order the staff, but I snapped, "What cake? That cake was custom-made for my birthday, and I paid for it. Who said you could serve it? I don't consent!"

Becca grabbed my arm, her tone dripping with mock sisterly correction. "Come on, Naomi, stop acting like a spoiled brat. I told you, we're sharing. I brought a cake too. We'll bring them both out, blow the candles together, and make it twice as fun!"

Despite my sharp refusal, the manager rolled his eyes and barked at a nearby server. "What are you standing there for? Go bring the cakes out! If you waste any more time, I'm docking your pay for the month!"

Terrified of losing her salary, the server scurried away.

Before I could argue further, the pastry carts were rolled into the banquet hall.

Leading the way was my custom-made, five-tier birthday cake, covered in intricate frosting and delicate sugar flowers.

But right behind it, resting in a giant, greasy stainless steel mixing basin, was a pile of dry, cheap, yellow grocery-store sponge muffins.

The guests stared in absolute silence at the giant steel basin of dry yellow muffins.

I wanted to laugh from sheer rage. I turned to Becca. "Is this what you called a cake? Who brings a metal basin of cheap muffins to a high-end banquet?"

Becca gasped, looking offended. "Naomi, how can you say that? A cake is a cake! Back in my parents' day, getting an egg on your birthday was a luxury! Your cake looks fancy, but it's probably packed with artificial colors and chemical preservatives. I didn't even criticize you for bringing such unhealthy food to our colleagues, and now you're judging my muffins?"

Furious at her twisted logic, I shook her hand off my arm and headed toward the stage to wheel my custom cake away.

But before I could even climb the stairs, Becca shouted into the microphone.

"Oh, Naomi! You're so eager to cut the cake! I get it, you're young, and seeing such a pretty cake is exciting. Since you're so enthusiastic, I'll let you do the honors of slicing it for everyone!"

With those sweet words, she effectively claimed my custom five-tier cake as her own.

To the crowd, it now looked like I was the one who had brought a giant basin of cheap muffins to share.

The looks of disgust and confusion from my colleagues intensified. No one could understand why anyone would bring a dog bowl of dry sponge muffins to a professional gathering.

Becca walked onto the stage, took the silver cake knife, and began cutting my expensive cake.

I watched in silence as she sliced the finest, most beautifully decorated portions of my cake and served them directly to the senior executives and managers, eager to curry favor.

Meanwhile, the regular staff were handed the dry, yellow muffins from the metal basin, some of which had been clumsily scooped out with a metal spoon, looking like mashed potatoes.

My colleagues stared at the dry muffins on their plates, their faces grim. Nobody took a single bite. They only remained in the room out of respect for the executives, not because they wanted to celebrate with us.

I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white.

My money, my planning, and my special night had been ruined, and I had managed to alienate half the office because of her stunt.

The executives took a few polite bites of my cake, their estimation of Becca rising even higher.

Becca liked to play poor, but her family wasn't actually broke. The heavy gold chains and rings she wore today were particularly flashy.

The executives, unfamiliar with her reputation, assumed she was the one who had ordered the gorgeous five-tier cake. One of them looked at me and offered a patronizing lecture.

"Naomi, it's great that you wanted to celebrate with your colleagues, but you shouldn't compromise on quality just because of your personal budget."

"This is just a private party, so a basin of muffins is fine. But if you handle a company gala like this in the future, it would reflect poorly on our firm."

The anger finally broke through. I opened my mouth to defend myself.

"Actually, that cake was"

Before I could finish, Becca lunged forward, her elbow slamming violently into my ribs. The sharp pain took my breath away.

She quickly turned to the executive, smiling warmly.

"Please don't mind her, sir. Junior staff often lack experience with these things. Don't worry, I'll mentor her closely to make sure she doesn't make this kind of mistake again."

Then, she turned to me, her voice dripping with mock sisterly teasing that firmly pinned the blame on me.

"Naomi, you'll have to make it up to everyone with some real cakes next week, okay? Otherwise, nobody will want to work with you!"

Staring at the judging eyes of my colleagues and the dismissive nods of the executives, I couldn't take it anymore. I turned and ran out of the banquet hall.

Standing in the cool night air outside the hotel, I took several deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

Becca wanted to share my birthday so badly?

Fine.

Since I had already paid the deposit, it was only fair that she handled the rest of the bill.