My Ambition 8

8 

I saved the photos. 

Also pulled up my banking app’s transaction history. 

Screenshot the Crawford severance payment with the official contract termination clause clearly attached. 

Then I messaged a former colleague still at Crawford. 

Five minutes later, my inbox received several security footage clips. 

Video showed Brittany having a complete meltdown in the office, hurling documents at a project manager’s face because they didn’t 

call her “Mrs. Crawford.” 

Plus screenshots of her using Ryan’s account to spread lies about me in work groups. 

I compiled everything-including Brittany and Mr. Wilson’s intimate photos-into a comprehensive image thread. 

Posted it across all my social media accounts. 

Caption: [Truth speaks for itself.] 

Results exceeded expectations. 

Less than three hours, public opinion completely flipped. 

The original hit piece attacking me was deleted by its publisher. 

Replaced by a new article: 

This Year’s Office Poison: Brittany!] 

The piece methodically laid out my evidence with clear comparisons. 

Comments section exploded, sentiment reversing faster than flipping pages: 

Holy shit! Big twist!] 

This woman’s the real gold-digger? Stringing Ryan along while hunting for upgrades-disgusting tactics.] 

[Feel so bad for Jade, getting framed by this toxic witch.] 

Every label they’d stuck on me bounced right back to Brittany, amplified. 

Shortly after my post went live, Wellington’s official account also posted a statement. 

In it, I was no longer the vaguely referenced “individual in question,” but specifically named as “Ms. Jade Sterling, our newly appointed executive.” 

All that malicious gossip was classified as “deliberate commercial attacks against Wellington Group.” 

The statement concluded with a preview image of a cease-and-desist letter in stark red. 

The legal document number was clearly visible. 

Someone in the comments posted screenshots from Pinnacle Law Firm’s website. 

This firm had a 100% success rate on defamation cases. 

Absolute devastation. 

I was stunned. 

Vincent had given me three days. 

3ut from my post to Wellington Group entering the fray directly took less than three hours. 

le hadn’t even called me. 

ndustry gossip influencers deleted their posts faster than anyone. 

My phone, buzzing constantly just moments before, went silent as a brick. 

‘his wasn’t just clarification. 

‘his was a declaration. 

Vincent was using Wellington’s entire corporate weight to build me a firewall. 

An impenetrable barrier of absolute power that no rumors could breach. 

taring into the dark night outside, I felt for the first time the terrifying control that lay beneath Vincent’s calm exterior. 

turned off my phone. The room fell quiet. 

‘incent’s approach wasn’t just handing me a blade- 

le’d given me an entire arsenal. 

ust then, my former colleague’s message popped up again: 

Holy shit, Jade! Check this out! Major drama!] 

Attached was a short video. 

Outside some Michelin-starred restaurant, Brittany was arm-in-arm with Mr. Wilson, beaming smugly. 

Jext second, a woman in a Chanel suit stormed out with several bodyguards. 

he woman grabbed Brittany by the hair, slapping her face back and forth, sharp and loud. 

Brittany’s updo came undone, designer dress torn, 

She collapsed to the ground, sobbing and begging. 

Fat Mr. Wilson cowered against the wall like a frightened quail, not daring to make a sound. 

Finally, Brittany was half-dragged, half-carried into a black sedan. 

The video ended as the car door slammed shut. 

Thirty minutes later, my former colleague sent a voice message: 

Jade, word is that was Wilson’s wife. She’s notorious for being ruthless. Brittany’s been hospitalized at a private clinic.” 

He paused, voice dropping even lower: 

‘She was beaten badly, complete mental breakdown… and the worst part… her uterus… they removed it.” 

gripped my phone, fingertips ice-cold. 

Brittany’s only climbing asset had been settled in the most brutally physical way possible. 

The price was devastating. 

After that night, news about Brittany completely vanished from my world. 

A month later, Ryan’s company officially declared bankruptcy. 

le was buried in debt, added to the defaulted debtor blacklist. 

lis properties and cars were all auctioned off by the courts. 

A few months after that, my former colleague sent me a blurry photo: 

Jade, guess who this is?] 

n the photo, a man in a yellowed white t-shirt squatted by the roadside smoking. 

Background showed a chaotic building materials market. 

He was skeletal thin, eyes sunken, hair greasy and matted in clumps. 

t was Ryan. 

My colleague said someone spotted him renting a tiny storefront there, making a living writing bid proposals, barely earning a few ucks a day. 

pparently he’d searched frantically for Brittany. 

When he finally tracked her to the hospital and learned her fate, he completely fell apart. 

deleted the photo. 

lis entire life seemed trapped in cycles of being controlled by women and losing control. 

Jow, finally, the dust had settled. 

A year later, I was officially promoted to VP of Wellington Group based on the West District cultural tourism project. 

Vincent only CC’d all executives on an internal email-no grand ceremony. 

Very much his style. Very much mine too. 

My office moved to the top floor, separated from his by just a frosted glass wall. 

The intercom rang-Vincent. 

“Meeting in twenty minutes.” 

I looked out the window at the city below, traffic flowing like a river of stars. 

I was no longer that small-town striver desperate to prove herself. 

I’m exceptional, I’m outstanding, I possess irreplaceable abilities. 

“Understood.” 

Twenty minutes later, I crossed that threshold, 

Arriving at the conference room right on time.