From Office Pariah to Luxury Queen Stealing My Design Destroyed Them

In my past life, Chloe begged me to wait and submit our final design files together. She whined that she didn’t want to be the last one turning in her work. I didn’t think twice and agreed. The next morning, she took my original concepts and publicly accused me of stealing her work. Overnight, I became the most disgusting copycat in the industry. I was fired, blacklisted by every design firm in the city, and eventually died broken, bitter, and completely ruined. When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to the day she begged me to wait for her. Chloe was clutching my arm, flashing that wide, innocent smile of hers. "Claire, you’re my best work bestie! Wait for me so we can submit together, okay?" I pulled my arm back calmly, looked straight into her eyes, and said clearly: "Sorry." "I already submitted mine." The sweet smile on Chloe’s face froze instantly. She clearly hadn’t expected me to shut her down so ruthlessly. "You... you really submitted it?" Her gaze suddenly darted toward my computer monitor. The portal login screen was still glowing bright. "Wait, you didn't, did you?" Her voice shot up an octave, dripping with barely suppressed panic. "The edit window was still open a second ago! The files aren't even uploaded!" "You’re lying to me! You just want to see me humiliated!" I looked up, giving her an icy glare. Without wasting a single breath on words, my hand gripped the mouse. The cursor glided smoothly over the screen, hovering over the bright "Confirm Submission" button in the bottom right corner. Right in front of Chloe's widening eyes, I pressed the left button firmly. Click. A green progress bar flashed across the screen. In less than a second, it filled completely to one hundred percent. A giant pop-up appeared: UPLOAD SUCCESSFUL. Right beneath it was a timestamp, accurate down to the exact second: 16:28:45. Chloe’s face turned paper white. Her pupils contracted sharply, sheer panic written all over her face. "Why would you do that?" "Claire, do you hate me or something?" "We're always so close! How could you be so mean?" Her voice began to tremble, and right on cue, tears welled up in her eyes. "I just didn't want to be the last one turning it in!" "If we submitted together, neither of us would look bad!" "The manager wouldn't call me slow, and I wouldn't get chewed out!" "What did I do wrong? I was just asking for a little help!" Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was just sharp enough to carry across the open-plan office. Colleagues who had been buried in their own rush projects stopped typing and turned their heads. Brenda, sitting diagonally across from me, was the first to frown and speak up. "Seriously, Claire? Isn't that a bit harsh?" "We're all in the same department. We have to see each other every single day." "It’s not like waiting five minutes is gonna kill you!" Jessica slammed her keyboard down next to her, eagerly jumping into the drama. "Exactly! Look at her—she's practically in tears!" "Chloe’s always so sweet to you. Remember when you had that fever last month? She literally went out and bought you meds!" "Why are you acting so cold and heartless?" "We're here to work, not play Mean Girls." "Honestly, Claire, this is just petty." Whispers and murmurs spread quickly through the cubicles. Chloe stood in the center of the room, head bowed. Her shoulders trembled slightly, making her look like the ultimate victim. I calmly picked up my tumbler, took a slow sip of water, and set it down without rushing. "Harsh?" "Company policy states the deadline is 5:00 PM sharp." "It’s barely 4:30 right now." "If someone works too slow, whose fault is that?" "That’s your own problem, Chloe. Not my responsibility." "Hitting deadlines is an individual duty." "If people need emotional hand-holding just to turn in their assignments, how does any freelance designer ever survive?" The sharp bite in my words made Brenda choke on her reply, her mouth hanging open. "And one more thing." I let out a cold chuckle, my eyes turning razor-sharp. "You guys want to talk about being petty?" "In this business, respecting rules and deadlines is real professionalism." "I’m not risking my hard work just to baby someone else's fragile ego under the excuse of 'workplace sisterhood'." "I used to care. Now, I believe one simple rule—" "Setting clear boundaries upfront beats cleaning up messy drama later." The entire floor fell dead silent. Coworkers exchanged awkward glances, totally caught off guard. The very people who were so self-righteous a second ago suddenly had nothing to say. Without sparing another glance at their embarrassed, annoyed faces, I swiped my keycard off the desk and headed straight for the breakroom.The next morning, the moment I stepped into the office, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone was sneaking glances back and forth between me and Chloe. Chloe was slumped at her desk, dabbing her eyes with a crumpled tissue. "Chloe, what's wrong?" someone asked gently, leaning over her cubicle. Sniffling loudly, Chloe pointed a trembling finger at her screen. "The color calibration on this monitor is totally off." "I stayed up all night color-grading my mockups, and when I ran a test print this morning, the colors were completely ruined!" "My eyes hurt so bad I can barely keep them open. I can't work like this." "If I ruin this project, Richard is gonna tear me apart." Tears streamed down her cheeks, making her look utterly pathetic. Right on cue, the glass door to the design director's office swung open. Richard stepped out, coffee mug in hand, scowling with deep irritation. "Claire. In my office. Now." His booming voice echoed across the quiet floor. A cold sneer flashed inside my head. I dropped my bag on my desk and walked in. Richard slammed himself into his leather executive chair, glaring at me like I owed him my life. "Do you seriously think that just because you've been here longer, the whole world revolves around you?" "Who said that ultra-wide 4K color-accurate monitor belongs exclusively to you? Did you pay for it out of your own pocket?" I met his glare with a calm, steady look. "Director, IT specifically assigned that rig to me when I was hired." "I requested that setup because my projects require high-end, color-critical rendering." Richard slammed his coffee mug onto the wooden desk with a loud thud. "That was then!" "Chloe's project has a hard client deadline today, and she's crying her eyes out!" "What's the big deal if you let her use it?" "Where's your sense of teamwork? Do you have any empathy for your colleagues?" "Stop being so selfish and petty. It's embarrassing to watch." I drew a slow, deliberate breath. "All my active project files and rendering caches are stored on that machine." "I'm also on a tight schedule. Switching desks now puts all my deliverables at risk." "Your schedule?" Richard let out a mocking laugh. "Like your little side designs even matter compared to this account?" "If Chloe drops the ball on this pitch, our entire department loses our quarterly bonuses!" "Are you trying to drag the whole team down with you?" "Cut the crap. Clear your stuff off that desk and swap with Chloe right now." "That's an order. If you don't like it, pack your bags and get out." With that, he waved his hand dismissively, like shooing away an annoying fly. I stood my ground, my hands clenching into tight fists inside my coat pockets. In my previous life, this was the exact moment I was pressured into giving up my station. And in this life? I was still going to move. Because I needed her to sit right down into the trap I had laid out for her. "Understood. I'll move." I turned on my heel and walked out. Chloe rushed over immediately, her eyes rimmed with red. "Claire, I'm so, so sorry!" "I really didn't want this! Richard forced me to switch!" "My screen was just hurting my eyes so badly..." Apologies spilled from her lips, but her feet were already planting themselves right next to my setup. With a completely blank face, I began packing up my things. I ejected my external hard drives, unplugged my drawing tablet, and stacked my design reference books into a box. "Hurry it up!" Richard barked from his open doorway. "Stop dragging your feet. Chloe needs that station now!" Around the room, not a single coworker dared to breathe a word. Only a few gloating, malicious smirks followed me. Brenda leaned over to whisper loud enough for people to hear. "Acting so high and mighty, but she still has to jump when the boss says jump." Ignoring her completely, I hoisted my storage box into my arms and stood straight. "Where am I moving?" I asked coldly. Richard poked his head out of his office door, casually pointing toward the deepest corner of the floor. "Over there. The spare rig still boots up." I carried my things across the entire office. That corner was shoved right against the breakroom and the industrial printer. Towering filing cabinets blocked out every ray of natural light. Broken office chairs and cardboard boxes were piled everywhere, filling the air with a damp, musty stench. Sitting on the wobbly desk was an ancient desktop tower that looked like a relic from a decade ago. Its screen was faded and yellowed, and the plastic casing had completely chipped away. This was the "spare rig." I set my box down and pulled back the squeaky chair. Just then, a bright, bubbly voice floated over from behind. "Wow, the color accuracy on this screen is insane!" "Claire, thank you so much! You totally saved my life!" I looked back over my shoulder. Chloe had already made herself completely comfortable in my old ergonomic chair. Catching my gaze, she turned around and beamed a sweet, angelic smile. Behind that innocent grin lay smug, unfiltered triumph. I calmly turned back around and took my seat in the dim, neglected corner.A sudden burst of loud laughter erupted right behind me. It was Brenda, Jessica, and a couple of other sycophants who spent their days orbiting Chloe. They crowded around the water cooler right next to my cubicle, holding their coffee mugs. "Hey, did you see the trending gossip today?" "Hahaha, that pop star's Botox is so stiff she looks like an inflatable doll!" Their voices boomed, without the slightest consideration for anyone trying to concentrate. They stood that close on purpose. I drew a deep breath, blocking out the background noise. "Oops, is it a little tight over here?" Jessica let out an exaggerated gasp, intentionally slamming her hip into the back of my chair. "My bad, Claire! Such a tiny walkway, you know?" The circle of women burst into snickers. Right on cue, Chloe’s melodious voice floated over from the front rows. "Guys, keep it down a little, please!" "Claire is trying to work in that tiny corner. The lighting is already terrible over there. If you distract her and she falls behind on her mockups, she’s gonna blame everyone else." She made it sound like she was defending me. Yet her tone was dripping with playful condescension. "Well, at least it's quiet back there," Brenda sneered immediately. "Only you would be so considerate of her, Chloe." "Some people just don't know how to appreciate a favor. Stuck with a piece of junk computer? Totally had it coming." They broke into another wave of laughter, louder than before. I looked back. Chloe was leaning back lazily against my former chair. She slowly spun the seat, casting a haughty glance across the shadowed corner where I sat. A triumphant smirk curled on her lips. She was relishing every second of watching me get isolated and humiliated. Childish, petty bullying tactics. Absolutely pathetic. I didn’t budge, nor did I waste my breath arguing. Soon, it was time for the weekly team sync. Richard walked in carrying a stack of project folders, his expression sour and displeased. "Alright, everyone gather around. Quick meeting." He slammed the folders onto the conference table with an aggressive slap. Everyone shuffled over to take their seats. I picked a chair at the far edge of the long table. Richard’s eyes scanned the room. His gaze lingered warmly on Chloe, before flicking toward me with naked contempt. "We’re not going over numbers today. We're talking about work attitude." He crossed his legs, twirling an expensive ballpoint pen between his fingers. "This company provides a platform for work, not for throwing tantrums." "Lately, I’ve been hearing toxic rumors around the floor." "Certain people who just had their desks reassigned need to check their egos at the door." Every word dripped with venom, aimed squarely at me. "Your seat is temporary; raw ability is what talks." "If your attitude is smaller than a pinhead, no desk in this office will save your career." The meeting room fell dead silent. Nobody dared to breathe, but countless eyes darted toward me. Richard tapped the wooden table sharply with his pen, raising his voice. "Take a good look at Chloe!" "Under massive project pressure, moving to a new station, having to adjust to new hardware on the fly—" "She didn't utter a single complaint, and her productivity practically doubled!" "I reviewed her drafts earlier. Pure brilliance! Now that is what I call a real designer!" Chloe immediately put on a display of modest, flustered humility. She lowered her head, twisting her fingers together in her lap. "Director, you’re too kind..." "Everyone’s been so supportive, and I just didn't want to hold the team back." "I'm sorry for taking up so much of your valuable time." Richard nodded in deep approval. "All of you could learn a thing or two from Chloe." "Drop the emotional baggage and produce real deliverables." "And don’t think hiding in a dark corner means I can’t catch you slacking off." He suddenly pointed a stiff finger right at my face, barking fiercely. "Claire! Where are your deliverables?" "Don’t give me the excuse that an old computer kept you from finishing your deck." "If you drop the ball on this deadline, consider your monthly bonus gone." Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me. I lifted my head without haste, meeting Richard’s aggressive glare with steady calm. "My submission will be on time." Richard blinked, visibly thrown off by how unbothered I was. "It better be. Meeting adjourned." The crowd broke into small groups and dispersed, each shooting curious or mocking looks my way as they passed. Chloe lingered at the back of the pack. As she brushed past my chair, she paused intentionally. Leaning down, she whispered in a voice only the two of us could hear: "Claire, the director might sound harsh, but he's only doing it for your own good." She let out a soft giggle, turning on the heels of her designer pumps, click-clack, and strutted away. Watching her retreating back, a chilling gleam flashed in my eyes.Today was the pitch review that would decide everything. At the head of the boardroom table sat the two ultimate heavyweights of the company. Simon, the Chief Creative Officer, famous across the industry as a razor-tongued tyrant who tore mediocre work to shreds. Gordon, the Executive Vice President of Accounts, a ruthless corporate shark who cared strictly about profit margins. Pitch decks were presented one by one until only mine and Chloe’s remained. Richard cut in smoothly, "Let's review Chloe’s deck first." Chloe had put on a brand-new, impeccably tailored white pantsuit today, looking crisp, sharp, and totally professional. She glided up to the podium radiating supreme confidence. "Good morning, gentlemen. Today, I'm thrilled to present my Valentine’s capsule collection—Starry Moon." The projector screen flared to life. A breathtaking cosmic river flowed across the canvas, sapphires and diamonds intertwining in a breathtaking, ethereal design. The icy, avant-garde elegance instantly gripped every eye in the room. Even the notoriously harsh Simon, who had spent the morning half-slumped in his chair, suddenly sat bolt upright. He leaned forward, hands clasped tightly under his chin, eyes glued to the display. "That composition... and the lighting balance..." "Fascinating. Miles ahead of the lifeless garbage I usually have to sit through." Gordon, knowing gold when he saw it, slapped his hand against his knee with excitement. "Brilliant! That’s the spark we’ve been hunting for!" "This is going to blow up on social media. Immense market potential." Simon nodded decisively, rendering his verdict on the spot. "This collection is our Valentine’s flagship campaign." He turned to Gordon, urgency lacing his tone. "Gordon, get legal on the line right now to register the IP." "Don't wait a single minute. I don't want any competitors getting wind of this." Standing at the front of the room, Chloe’s cheeks flushed a triumphant pink, her voice shaking with excitement. "Thank you so much, Mr. Simon, Mr. Gordon! I won’t let you down!" Seeing his protégé validated, Richard piped up with smug pride. "Didn’t I say Chloe had raw talent? She definitely exceeded expectations today." Thunderous applause broke out across the boardroom as everyone showered Chloe with envious praise. Only I sat silently in the dim shadows of the far corner, watching the entire spectacle with cool detachment. Richard waved his hand dismissively. "Alright, since the decision is made, we still have to wrap up the formalities." "Claire, step up." A few snickers broke out in the room. Without showing a single emotion, I stood up and walked up to the projector console. Unrushed, I navigated into my directory, clicked the file titled Starry_Moon_Final_Deck, and clicked "Open." Chatter still hummed throughout the boardroom; nobody gave a damn about the pitch of someone who had already lost. Until the screen refreshed. The noisy room went dead silent in an instant, as if someone had slammed on the master mute switch. A suffocating, eerie hush descended. On the giant projector screen, the exact same image appeared. The glittering galaxy, the interwoven sapphires and diamonds. Even the tiny, accidental stray sketch line in the upper right corner— The angle, the color profile, the placement—identical down to the last pixel! It was carbon-copied from the deck Chloe had just shown!Two identical creative works. In terms of probability, such a coincidence was virtually impossible. The appreciative glow on Simon’s face vanished, instantly replaced by volcanic fury. BAM! He slammed his open palm onto the mahogany conference table with deafening force. "What the hell is this?!" His trembling finger pointed at the screen, his roar rattling everyone’s eardrums. "You couldn't even bother to tweak a single brush stroke before stealing it?!" "Claire, you are stomping all over my last shred of patience!" "Do you think I'm blind, or do you think this company is a dumpster for plagiarized trash?!" Gordon’s face was as dark as thunder, glaring with disgust at the mirrored artwork. "Is this your idea of work ethic? Presenting someone else's finished deliverables as your own?" At that exact second, Chloe let out a sharp, choked gasp. Clapping her hands over her mouth, tears cascaded down her cheeks like a broken dam. Her wide, horrified gaze made it look like she was witnessing the most traumatizing atrocity on earth. "Th-that... that's my design!" She turned toward Simon, weeping hysterically, her voice shattering with every word. "Claire... how could you do this to me?" "I used that old desktop before. I might have left some local project cache on it by mistake..." "How could you just take it and slap your own name on it?!" With one clean, calculated swoop, she scrubbed herself entirely clean. Richard jumped up, his finger almost poking my nose, spitting words of outrage. "Claire! I knew you were rotten to the core!" "You sat quietly in that corner plotting this shady stunt the whole time!" "Blatantly stealing your coworker’s pitch! I have never been more disgusted!" "A disgrace with zero moral integrity doesn't deserve to step foot in this firm!" Gordon pulled his smartphone out of his suit pocket with an icy scowl. "Save the lecture." "This is felony intellectual property theft. The breach is catastrophic." "Call the police. Now." He punched 911 into his dialer without hesitation. The boardroom exploded into chaos. "Unbelievable... I had no idea Claire was this shameless." "Stealing without even changing a detail? That's insane arrogance." "If this goes on her record, she's permanently blacklisted in design." Accusations, insults, and mocking laughter crashed over me like a tidal wave. BAM! The heavy boardroom doors were shoved open. Two burly building security guards rushed into the room. "Who called for security?!" Gordon pointed directly at me. "Restrain her. Law enforcement is on their way. Make sure she doesn't destroy any physical evidence." The guards advanced in heavy, thunderous strides. A rough, heavy hand clamped tightly down onto my shoulder. A dull ache flared up, but I didn't struggle. I looked at Richard's smug, twisted grin. I looked at Chloe crying behind her trembling hands. I looked at Simon’s look of absolute disgust. Suddenly, a laugh escaped my throat. It was sharp, clear, and utterly deafening in the dead silence of the room. Even the guard pinning my shoulder hesitated, his grip loosening slightly in bewilderment. "What the hell are you laughing at?" Simon barked, scowling with deep irritation. I tore my shoulder out of the guard's grip with a sudden, vicious jerk. Striding straight to the front of the conference table, I pulled a matte-black thumb drive from my blazer pocket. I raised my arm and slammed the flash drive hard onto the table surface with a resounding CRACK. The violent impact cut off every whisper in the room. "You want to call the cops? Perfect." "I second that motion." "But before the police arrive, you all need to look at this—" "And see for yourselves who the real thief in this room actually is!"