My Boss Erased Her Pregnancy, But I Have the Ultrasound From the Future

I lived like a dog for a whole year for my pregnant director, Samantha Vance.

I did all her spreadsheets, drove her to prenatal checkups, and even had to wash her stained maternity underwear when she had bladder leaks in her third trimester.

She always promised me that once she went on maternity leave, her director position would be mine.

Yet, on the first day back to work after the New Year, she walked into the office wearing a skin-tight dress and stiletto heels. Her stomach was as flat as a board.

There was no baby. And my promotion announcement was nowhere to be seen.

I asked her where the baby was. I asked her about the promotion she promised.

She slapped me right across the face.

"Who the hell are you cursing on the first day of the year? I don't even have a boyfriend. Where would I get a baby from?"

But my Amazon order history was packed with maternity supplies, and my phone was filled with secret photos of her ultrasounds.

I ran around the office, showing my phone to everyone, trying to prove my innocence.

But everyone thought I had gone completely insane with jealousy.

"Shes desperate for a promotion. Creating fake pregnancy rumors about her own boss? How has this psycho not been fired yet?"

Due to a "severe breach of company conduct," the security guards dragged me out of the building like a dead dog and threw me onto the street.

Every time I tried to explain, Samantha had her goons corner me in dark alleys, beating me up and forcing me to get on my knees and apologize.

During my last attempt to claw back my phone for the evidence, I was pushed down a flight of stairs.

Everything went black as I broke my neck.

But then, I opened my eyes again.

I was back. Back to the first day of work after the New Year.

**1**

I sat at my desk, my head spinning.

Around me, my coworkers were wishing each other a Happy New Year, and the HR manager was handing out welcome-back coffee gift cards.

I wasnt dead. I was alive. Was everything that happened just a nightmare?

I quickly tapped my phone screen.

The latest photo in my gallery was a sneaky picture I took of Samantha during her 4D ultrasound.

In the photo, Samanthas face was glowing with maternal warmth. She was looking at the screen, rubbing her belly, her eyes curving into happy crescents.

"Elena, youve worked so hard this year. Once this little one is out, the director chair is yours."

That was the promise she made me right before the holiday, when she was eight months pregnant.

For that promise, I had lived like a dog for a year.

When she wanted to drink at corporate dinners, I took the shots for her. I drank so much that I got stomach ulcers and ended up in the ER, only to drag myself back to her apartment to make her hangover soup.

When her legs swelled up during her third trimester, I knelt on the floor to massage them, only for her to kick me in the shoulder, complaining my hands were too rough.

When she craved a specific smoothie from a shop three miles away during a heavy storm, I biked there to get it. I wiped out on the wet asphalt, my knees bleeding, but I still protected the thermal bag in my arms.

And most humiliating of all, when she had bladder leaks late in her pregnancy, I was the one who washed her underwear.

Everyone in the office called me "Samantha's obedient golden retriever." I was the butt of every joke behind my back.

But I didn't care. My family was from a small town, and my younger brother needed a kidney transplant. I desperately needed the salary and the status of that director position.

If being a dog for a year got me the crown, so be it.

"Elena, what are you staring at? You look like you've seen a ghost." The HR manager tossed a coffee card onto my desk. "Get to Samantha's office. She just arrived and asked for you. Probably wants to talk about your promotion. You're a lucky girl."

I took a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs.

This was it. Samantha was about to pop. She had promised I would take over the department after the holidays.

Clutching my phone, I rushed toward the elevator.

*Ding.* The doors slid open.

My eyes traveled up.

Samantha stepped out. She was wearing a tight, cropped top and a miniskirt, showing off a perfectly flat midriff. She carried a limited-edition Chanel bag on her arm.

In that second, my brain short-circuited.

Where was the belly?

Where was the huge, eight-month pregnant belly that made her waddle and hold her lower back?

I froze, staring blankly at her flat stomach.

She was eight months pregnant. It had only been a ten-day holiday. How could she look like she had never carried a child in her life?

"Are you planning to stand there blocking the door all day?" Samantha walked past me, slamming a heavy stack of reports against my chest. "Last months data is absolute garbage. Redo it. I want a new proposal on my desk by midnight."

Instinctively, I reached out to touch her waist, my lips trembling. "Sam... your... your baby bump..."

*Slap!*

Samantha backhanded my hand away with brutal force.

"Are you out of your mind? Why are you touching me?" She pulled a sanitizing wipe from her bag, aggressively rubbing the spot I had touched. "Ugh, what a disgusting way to start the morning."

***

**2**

The entire open-plan office fell dead silent. Dozens of eyes locked onto us.

Ignoring the stinging pain on my hand, I shoved my phone screen right in front of her face. "Sam, where is the baby? We just went to the prenatal checkup before the holidays! Here is the photo! Look! Where is the baby? Did something happen to it?"

I was genuinely panicking.

That was a life. A baby I had spent a year catering to as if it were royalty.

Samantha glanced at my screen. Without even looking closely, she swiped her arm.

My phone flew out of my hand, crashing onto the tiled floor and sliding several feet away.

"Elena, have you gone completely insane trying to get a promotion? Youre making up sick, disgusting rumors about me being pregnant? I don't even have a boyfriend! Where would I get a baby? If youre mentally unstable, go see a psychiatrist, don't throw a tantrum in my office!"

"No boyfriend?" I pointed at the cracked phone on the floor. "Then why did I drink myself to the ER for you? What about the bottles of prenatal vitamins and calcium pills in your cabinet? What about the maternity pads I changed for you?!"

"How can you pretend you weren't pregnant?!"

Samantha let out a cold laugh, turning to the whispering crowd. "Do you hear this? You feed a stray dog, and it bites you. I mentored her, and now shes cursing me, claiming I had an illegitimate child. Elena, you are fired. Pack your things and get out."

"Im not leaving!"

I pushed past Samantha, losing my mind as I sprinted into her private office.

I just needed to find proof.

I frantically tore open her desk drawers and cabinets, searching for any trace of her pregnancy.

But everything was gone.

It was as if the baby had never existed. As if my entire year of slaving away for her was just a delusion of my own mind.

"Security! Are you guys dead?!" Samanthas shrill voice echoed from the door. "Get this psycho out of here!"

Two beefy security guards rushed in, grabbing me by my arms.

"Let go of me! I'm her assistant, I'm looking for proof!" My feet dangled off the ground as I kicked wildly. "Samantha, you monster! You aborted the baby just to clean up your track, and now youre trying to get rid of me, aren't you?!"

"She's still spouting nonsense!" Samantha spat. "Drag her out! Toss her into the street!"

They dragged me across the floor. My skirt rode up, and the friction against the carpet burned my thighs.

As we passed the cubicles, I desperately grabbed a doorframe.

"Chloe! At the annual gala, didn't I drink a whole bottle of whiskey for Samantha? You saw me throwing up blood! Say something!"

"Valerie! You saw her morning sickness! You literally asked her if she was expecting! Tell them!"

Chloe shrank back into her chair, eyes darting away. "Elena... don't drag me into this. You just got drunk because you wanted to party. Samantha even paid for your Uber to the hospital..."

Valerie kept her head down, typing furiously. "I don't know anything. Leave me out of your drama."

"Let go!" the guard barked.

I screamed as my fingers slipped from the doorframe.

*Thud!*

They threw me onto the cold concrete sidewalk outside the office building.

My phone was tossed out after me, hitting my forehead and instantly raising a painful bump.

I refused to believe this was happening.

Samantha could buy off my coworkers, she could destroy physical evidence, but she couldn't silence everyone.

Marcus.

The company driver. He was the one who drove us to every single prenatal appointment. He was an old, honest guy who had once slipped me a chocolate bar, telling me I was working too hard.

A black Buick SUV slowly rolled out of the underground garage.

It was Marcuss car!

Ignoring my bruised knees, I ran like a madwoman and threw myself in front of the hood.

Before the car could even come to a full stop, I banged on the driver-side window. "Marcus! Marcus, please help me! Tell them! Didn't you drive Samantha to the OB-GYN clinic this past year? Didn't you?!"

The window rolled down halfway, revealing Marcuss weathered face.

He glanced at Samantha, who was watching from the glass doors of the lobby, and then looked at my disheveled self.

"Elena," Marcus sighed. "Are you under too much stress? When did I ever drive Ms. Vance to a hospital? This past year, I only drove her to client dinners and golf courses. I've never been to an OB-GYN."

***

**3**

My fingers clawed at the window seal. "You're lying, Marcus! On the thirteenth of last month, in the freezing snow, the car broke down and I had to push it! We were going to her gestational diabetes screening! Did you forget?!"

"Get some help, kid," Marcus said, rolling up the window so fast it almost caught my fingers. "Don't try to scam me."

"Still putting on a show?"

A smug male voice sounded behind me.

I turned around. It was Lucas Sterling.

The vice president. Everyone in the office whispered about his secret affair with Samantha. I knew the truththe baby was his.

In my past life, I had walked in on Lucas rubbing Samanthas bump, whispering, *Daddy loves you, little angel.*

"Lucas!" I lunged forward like a drowning person catching a life raft, grabbing his leg. "You know the truth, right? That was your baby! Samantha got rid of it, and now shes blaming me! Just tell the truth, please! I just want to clear my name!"

Lucas looked down at me, disgust in his eyes.

"Elena, I thought you were just stupid. I didn't realize you were malicious."

Lucas kicked me square in the chest.

He didn't hold back. The kick sent me flying backward, my spine crashing hard against the concrete edge of a planter. The wind was knocked out of me, and a metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

"Samantha and I are child-free. We hate kids, and everyone in this company knows that. How dare you spread such vile lies, claiming she was carrying my child? You're defaming my character."

"Defaming?" I choked out. "Lucas, are you even a man? When Samantha had severe morning sickness, you were the one who ordered me to buy those expensive sour plums! You made me boil bird's nest soup for her! Now the baby is gone, and to protect your VP seat, youre acting like none of it happened?!"

"Where's your proof?" Lucas pulled a neatly folded expense report from his coat and slapped it onto my face. "You claim you drank for Samantha? Look closely at the entertainment expense reports for the past year. Who signed off as the host?"

I grabbed the paper.

In bold ink, the signature at the bottom of every single dinner expense was *Lucas Sterling*.

"No... this is impossible..." My eyes widened. "I was the one who drank... I got hospitalized... Lucas wasn't even in the room..."

"Then youre either delusional, or youve fabricated a savior complex to force a promotion."

A crowd had gathered around us.

Several people were holding up their phones, livestreaming the drama.

"Look at this, guys. This is the psycho assistant who tried to ruin her boss with fake pregnancy rumors. Got shut down instantly."

"So disgusting. If she can't get promoted, she tries to drag everyone down."

"She looked so innocent, who knew she was such a snake?"

I stood in the center of the crowd, shivering violently.

The memories were rewritten, the evidence was gone, and every witness had turned against me.

I was nothing but a joke.

So, I called the police.

I refused to believe they could bribe the police. I refused to believe medical records could be faked.

Inside the interrogation room.

Two detectives sat across from me. Beside them sat Samantha, crossing her legs, and Lucas, looking grim.

"Detectives, I have proof!"

With my swollen, trembling hand, I unlocked my cracked phone.

Thank god, it still worked.

I tapped on the video file.

"Look! This was taken right before the holidays!" I thrust the screen toward the detectives, my voice cracking with desperation. "This is Samantha! Look at her belly! Is that fake? Is that voice AI-generated?!"

In the video, Samantha was holding her massive belly, smiling at the camera. *"When the baby is born, Ill make sure he calls you Auntie Elena."*

The detective frowned as he watched the video, then turned to Samantha.

"Ms. Vance, can you explain this?"

Samantha calmly opened her designer bag and pulled out a manila envelope.

"Detective, with how advanced deepfakes are these days, Im sure youre aware of what people can do," Samantha said, giving me a pitying look. "That video is a complete fabrication. Here, I have my actual medical records from the most prestigious hospital in the city."

***

**4**

She emptied the envelope.

Several diagnostic sheets with official hospital seals slid onto the table.

*Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS).*

*Uterine lining thickness: 0.4cm (Severely thin).*

*Diagnosis: Primary Infertility.*

Samantha pointed at the documents, her eyes welling with tears. "Detective, my greatest pain in life is that I can never be a mother. Elena, as my assistant, knew this. She used deepfake technology to create this video just to mock my trauma and spread rumors in the office... It's like she stabbed me right in the heart."

The detective picked up the documents, checking the official stamps and security watermarks.

They were 100% authentic.

"No! This is fake! She bribed the hospital to get these!" I lunged across the table, trying to grab the papers. "Check the surveillance cameras! Check the garage! The cameras must have caught me helping her into the car! Her belly was huge, you can't fake that on CCTV!"

"Be my guest," Lucas sneered, handing a USB drive to the detective.

The detective plugged it in, and the projector on the wall turned on.

The footage showed Samantha walking through the garage over the past few months. In every clip, she was wearing fitted dresses, her waist incredibly slender. There was no baby bump.

I stared at the screen, my reflection looking back at me like a textbook lunatic.

Samantha wiped her tears. "Detective, you see? She has been obsessively stalking me, projecting some weird fantasy onto me. Now that her scheme failed, shes trying to drag me down."

The detective's gaze turned cold as he looked at me.

"Ms. Miller," he said, closing his notebook. "Based on the evidence, you are being charged with harassment, defamation, and public disturbance..."

"I didn't do it! I'm not crazy!" I screamed in despair.

"That's enough." Lucas stood up, straightening his tie as his lawyer handed over a document. "Since Ms. Millers actions have severely damaged our company's reputation and caused our stock price to dip today, we are suing her for $300,000 in damages. We also demand she be detained immediately."

Three hundred thousand dollars.

Even if I sold my organs, I couldn't pay that.

I stared at my cracked phone on the table. It was my only hope.

I snatched for it.

"Still trying to destroy evidence?" Lucas reacted instantly, grabbing my arms and slamming me face-first onto the metal interrogation table.

Samantha leaned down, whispering in my ear.

"Elena, for the sake of our past year, Ill give you one chance."

She pointed to the concrete floor of the precinct.

"Kneel down right now. Give me three deep bows, record a video admitting youre a delusional psycho who made up stories because you wanted to sleep with Lucas, and we'll settle this quietly. I'll drop the charges and the lawsuit."

If I knelt and recorded that video, I would be a social pariah forever. My name would be ruined, and I would never be able to clear it.

"Go... to... hell..." I spat through my teeth. "I'll see you both in prison..."

Lucas snapped.

"You ungrateful bitch!"

He grabbed me by my hair.

*Crack!*

He slammed my forehead against the edge of the metal table.

A blinding pain exploded in my skull. My ears rang loudly, but through the static, I could still hear Samantha's soft, wicked chuckle.

"Some people just have to learn the hard way."

My body went limp, slipping onto the floor. My consciousness began to drift.

Before I blacked out completely, my blurry vision focused on the digital calendar hanging on the wall of the interrogation room.

The glowing red numbers were pulsing.

And then, everything clicked.