The early morning sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Weston Group's office, casting thin golden streaks across the cluttered workstations. Mia Carter hunched over her desk, her fingers carefully smoothing the edges of a thick folder labeled "VIP Client – Starlight Tech." The faint scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, but it did little to ease the tightness in her chest. For days, she'd been drowning in whispers and cold stares, the rumors about her "seducing the HR head" clinging to her like a stain. This task—organizing Starlight Tech's confidential materials for their afternoon meeting—was her last chance to prove she belonged here, to shake off the shame Watanabe had pinned on her.
She'd spent the previous night cross-referencing every page, ensuring not a single detail was out of place. The folder, bound in navy blue with a gold star emblem, sat prominently on the top shelf of her file rack, marked with a bright red "Urgent" sticker. Mia leaned back slightly, rubbing her tired eyes, and allowed herself a tiny, fragile hope. If she pulled this off, maybe Elena would finally see her as more than just a "frivolous intern." Maybe the colleagues who avoided her like she had the plague would stop whispering when she walked by.
That hope was shattered less than an hour later.
The sharp, rapid click of high heels cut through the hum of the office, growing louder until Elena Harris stood directly behind Mia's chair. Before Mia could turn around, a heavy hand slammed down on her desk, making the file rack rattle. "Mia Carter!" Elena's voice was shrill, sharp enough to make several nearby colleagues jump and glance over. "Where's the Starlight Tech file? The client's arriving at three, and we need those materials ready—now."
Mia's blood ran cold. She spun around, her chair scraping against the floor. "I—It's right here, Ms. Harris," she stammered, reaching for the top shelf of the file rack. Her fingers brushed empty air. Panic flared in her chest as she checked again, then yanked the entire rack forward, dumping its contents onto the desk. Folders spilled everywhere—vendor contracts, expense reports, old employee files—but there was no sign of the navy blue folder with the gold star.
"It was here yesterday," Mia insisted, her voice trembling as she scrambled to pick up the scattered papers. "I organized it last night, put it right on top, marked it urgent. I swear I did."
Elena crossed her arms, her red lips twisted into a sneer. "Save the excuses. You're the only one assigned to this client's files. If it's missing, it's on you." She leaned in, her perfume—sharp and citrusy—overwhelming Mia's senses. "You've got until five o'clock to find that file. If you don't, I'll have your termination papers on my desk first thing tomorrow. Weston Group doesn't waste resources on interns who can't even keep track of basic documents."
Termination. The word hit Mia like a punch to the gut. Her vision blurred, and she had to grip the edge of the desk to keep from falling. This internship wasn't just a job—it was her parents' last hope. She could still hear her mother's voice on the phone the night before, tired but hopeful: "How's the internship going, honey? We saved your favorite dumplings for dinner." If she lost this, she'd have to go back to the diner, back to watching her parents work 16-hour days just to pay the rent. She'd have to tell them she'd failed.
"I'll find it, Ms. Harris," Mia said, her voice barely audible. "I promise."
Elena snorted, turning on her heel. "You'd better. Now clean up this mess before you distract the entire team."
As Elena walked away, Mia collapsed back into her chair, tears burning her eyes. She bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting salt, determined not to cry in front of everyone. The office had gone quiet, and she could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on her—curious, judgmental, amused. She quickly swept the scattered papers into a pile, her hands shaking so badly she dropped several times. Then, she grabbed her bag and ran toward the department's communal storage room.
The storage room was dim and dusty, filled with metal shelves stacked high with old files and forgotten office supplies. Mia rummaged through every shelf, pulling out folders at random, her heart racing. She checked the printer room next, sifting through the overflowing trash cans for any sign of the navy blue folder. No luck. She hurried to the conference room where she'd worked the night before, scanning the table and the floor, even checking under the chairs. Nothing.
By noon, Mia was exhausted. Her legs ached from running back and forth, and her throat was dry. She'd skipped lunch, too anxious to eat. She approached a few colleagues she'd spoken to briefly—Sarah from accounting, Tom from marketing—hesitantly asking if they'd seen the Starlight Tech file. Sarah avoided her eyes, shaking her head and muttering, "I don't know anything about it." Tom just rolled his eyes, saying, "Aren't you the one who can't keep track of her own stuff?" before walking away.
The rejection stung, but Mia didn't have time to dwell on it. She went back to her desk, flipping through every drawer again, even checking the space between the desk and the wall. Still nothing. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, each second bringing her closer to five o'clock. Her shirt was soaked through with sweat, and her hands were clammy. She thought of her father's calloused hands, her mother's tired smile, and felt a sob rise in her throat. She was so close to losing everything.
Then, she saw him.
Liam was sitting at his workstation diagonally across from hers, his head bent over a stack of folders. Mia's heart skipped a beat. Liam was in the same team, in charge of another major client in the same industry—Nova Dynamics. She'd seen him carrying folders with the same navy blue cover just last week. Could he have mixed up the files yesterday? Maybe when he'd stopped by the printer room while she was there? Or when they'd both been in the conference room the night before?
It was a long shot, but it was the only shot she had. Mia took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from her forehead, and walked toward his desk. Her legs felt like lead, and her hands were still trembling. Liam looked up as she approached, his brow furrowed slightly—he'd been deep in concentration, his pen hovering over a document.
"Liam, I'm so sorry to bother you," Mia said, her voice shaking. She hated how desperate she sounded, but she couldn't help it. "I know you're busy, but… have you seen the Starlight Tech file? The one with the gold star on the navy blue cover? I was supposed to have it ready for the client meeting, but it's missing, and Elena said if I don't find it by five, she's firing me."
Liam set down his pen, his expression neutral. There was a hint of irritation in his eyes—she'd interrupted his work—but no malice. "Starlight Tech?" he repeated, shaking his head. "No. I'm working on Nova Dynamics' materials right now. Every folder is labeled with their logo. I checked the numbers this morning—they're all accounted for."
"I know, but… the covers are nearly identical," Mia pressed, leaning forward slightly. She could see the stack of navy blue folders on his desk, and her heart raced. "Could you have mixed them up by accident? Maybe when you were grabbing files from the storage room? I just… I need to check. Just a quick look, I promise. It would mean everything."
Liam's expression shifted. His brow furrowed deeper, and his jaw tightened slightly. He leaned back in his chair, creating a small distance between them, and his voice turned cold. "I already told you—I don't have your file. I don't mix up client files. It's unprofessional."
"I know it's unprofessional, but I'm desperate!" Mia's voice rose before she could stop herself. Desperation was overriding her sense of decorum, making her push harder. "It's just a quick check! You've got so many folders here—you might not have noticed! Are you really not going to help me just because you can't be bothered?"
A hush fell over the nearby workstations. Mia glanced around and saw several colleagues staring at them, their heads bent together in whispers. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she couldn't back down now. She needed to find that file.
Liam's face darkened. He glanced at the gossiping colleagues, then back at Mia, his voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "I'm not refusing to help you, Mia. I'm telling you the truth—I don't have your file. This is your responsibility, not mine. I've got my own deadlines to hit, and I can't afford to waste time sifting through my files because you misplaced yours."
"Waste time?" Mia repeated, her voice cracking. Hurt and frustration welled up inside her, mixing with desperation. "This isn't a waste of time to me! It's my job—my future! You're the only person here who's ever been even remotely nice to me, and you won't spare two minutes to check?"
"I was nice to you because I thought you were competent," Liam said, his voice colder than before. "But if you can't keep track of your own materials, that's on you. Now, please—leave me alone. I have work to do." He picked up his pen again, pointedly avoiding her eyes.
Mia froze. His words hit her like a slap. She stood there, staring at him, tears finally spilling over her cheeks. She knew she'd crossed a line—she'd accused him of being unprofessional, of refusing to help her out of spite. But she was so scared, so alone. The weight of the rumors, the threat of termination, the thought of letting her parents down—it was all too much.
The colleagues around them were still staring, their whispers loud enough to hear snippets: "There's the drama queen again." "Can't believe she's blaming Liam." "No wonder Elena wants to fire her." Mia felt her face grow hotter. She wanted to run, to hide, to disappear. She mumbled a choked "sorry" to Liam, who didn't look up, and stumbled back to her desk.
For the next hour, Mia wandered aimlessly around the office, her tears drying on her cheeks. She checked the storage room again, the printer room, even the women's bathroom. Nothing. Each passing minute made her more desperate. By 4:45 p.m., she'd given up. She dragged herself to her locker, located in a small hallway near the break room. She rarely used it—she kept most of her things at her desk—but she needed to grab her jacket and bag. She was going to be fired, and she couldn't face anyone else.
Mia unlocked the locker with shaky hands. Inside, there was a spare sweater, a water bottle, and a few old notebooks. She reached in, intending to grab her jacket, but her fingers brushed against something hard at the bottom of the locker—something she didn't recognize. She frowned, bending down to look.
There, tucked beneath a pile of old notebooks, was the navy blue folder with the gold star.
Mia's breath caught in her throat. She pulled the folder out, her hands trembling so badly she almost dropped it. It was the Starlight Tech file—intact, all the pages inside. Relief flooded her, so strong she almost cried again. But then, she noticed something.
On the front of the folder, near the sealed edge, there was a faint, smudged fingerprint. It wasn't hers—she always kept her hands clean, and the fingerprint was larger, with a faint smudge of dried oil around the edges. Mia's heart sank. She rarely used this locker, and she always kept it locked. The only time she'd opened it in the past week was to put away her spare sweater. How had the file gotten here? And who had touched it?
She closed the locker, clutching the folder to her chest. The relief was gone, replaced by a cold, sick feeling. This wasn't an accident. Someone had taken the file from her desk, hidden it in her locker, and left a fingerprint. Someone had wanted her to lose her job. Who? Watanabe, still angry about her rejection? Elena, who'd hated her from the start? Or one of the colleagues who'd believed the rumors and wanted her gone?
Mia glanced at the clock on the wall. 4:55 p.m. She had five minutes to get the file to Elena. But as she stood there, holding the folder, she knew something had changed. She wasn't just fighting to keep her job anymore. She was fighting against someone who was trying to destroy her. And she had no idea who it was, or what they'd do next.
She took a deep breath, wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks. Her hands were still trembling, but there was a new resolve in her eyes. She would give Elena the file. She would keep her job. And then, she would find out who had framed her. No matter what it took.