My Birthday Bill Is Finally Due Chapter 2

I didn’t lose it immediately.

I hadn’t gathered all the evidence yet.

At eight in the morning, I got up, washed, put on my makeup, and left for work, like a normal day.

The office was forty minutes away by subway.

Squashed into the morning rush hour crowd, I thought about Ryan and Maya.

How did they even connect?

Maya was my college roommate. That’s how she knew Ryan.

When Ryan and I started dating, I was the one who introduced them.

“This is my best friend, Maya. And this is my boyfriend, Ryan. Please look out for me, you two.”

How naïve I was back then.

I thought a best friend was a best friend, and a boyfriend was a boyfriend.

I thought sincerity earned sincerity.

The train was jammed. Someone stepped on my foot without apologizing.

I looked down at my shoes.

They were a pair I bought on clearance last year for $59.

Ryan mentioned last week he wanted a pair of limited edition sneakers—$2,999.

I told him, “I’ll get them when I get paid.”

He sighed, “Forget it, I don’t want to burden you.”

The next day, Maya posted an Instagram story.

“A gift I picked out for a good buddy. Hope he likes them.”

The photo was the sneaker box.

I hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

Now, I realized. What best friend buys my boyfriend three-thousand-dollar sneakers?

I was completely and utterly played.

Nine on the dot, I arrived at the office.

It was Monday, time for the weekly meeting.

Our director, Ted Carson, sat at the head of the table and scanned the room.

“Where’s Ryan?”

Leo, a colleague, piped up, “Ryan’s on a business trip.”

Ted frowned. “Business trip? What business trip? I didn’t approve any.”

Leo laughed awkwardly. “I... I’m not sure.”

Ted’s face darkened.

The meeting continued, focusing on the proposal review scheduled for next Friday.

This was the company’s biggest project this year—a major corporate client, an eight-figure contract.

Our team submitted three proposals.

I authored one of them.

But during the kick-off, Ryan had said, “Just give me the first draft, I’ll help you refine it. We’ll co-author.”

I gave it to him.

In the end, only his name was on it.

Ted had asked me once, “Sharon, the framework for this proposal doesn’t quite match Ryan’s usual style.”

I’d said, “We collaborated; he incorporated some of my ideas.”

Ted just looked at me and didn’t press.

That look—I understood it now.

He knew.

But he never stood up for me.

Because Ryan was his protégé.

After the meeting, I returned to my desk and opened my computer.

The original file for the stolen proposal was still on my USB drive.

I’d saved everything.

In three years, I’d learned one thing:

Before you commit, always keep a record.