I threw myself into work like a woman possessed.
Monday morning, 6:30 AM at my desk. Tuesday, 6:15. By Wednesday, I'd given up on sleep entirely and just worked through the night, dozing for an hour in my chair before everyone else arrived.
The Hartwell presentation. That was my lifeline.
Hartwell Industries,a multi-million dollar account that could reshape Apex's entire portfolio. I'd been building the pitch for four months. Market analysis, competitive positioning, projected ROI, risk assessment. Three hundred slides distilled down to fifty perfect ones.
This was the kind of high-stakes pitch that got you noticed by the executive floor. By Adrian Wolfe himself.
If I couldn't have the promotion, I'd earn the next one.
"Elena, you're here early again," Ava said Thursday morning, appearing at my cubicle with two coffee cups. "I brought you a latte. You look like you need it."
She was wearing a cream cashmere sweater that probably cost more than my monthly rent, her hair in a perfect low ponytail.
"Thanks." I took the coffee.
"What are you working on? You've been so focused all week."
"The Hartwell pitch. It's Tuesday."
"Oh, right! That's huge." She leaned against the cubicle wall. "Are you nervous?"
"I'm prepared."
"I'm sure you are. You're always so on top of everything." She sipped her coffee, then her smile faltered slightly. "I wish I had your work ethic. I've always been terrible with presentations. They make me so anxious."
Something shifted in her voice,genuine vulnerability.
"My last company was really intense about them. My old boss used to tear people apart in front of clients. I had a panic attack during one pitch and—" She laughed, hollow. "Well, it wasn't great. Anyway, I'm rambling. Good luck with your prep!"
She walked back to her office, and I turned back to my screen.
I didn't let myself feel bad for her.
***
Monday morning, I arrived at 6 AM feeling ready. Exhausted, running on coffee and adrenaline, but ready.
The presentation was scheduled for 2 PM.
At 8:30 AM, Mr. Hendricks emerged from his office.
"Team meeting in five."
That was unusual.
In the conference room, Hendricks wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. "Quick update. We need to reschedule the Hartwell presentation."
My stomach dropped.
"Reschedule?" Marcus said. "It's this afternoon."
"I know. Something came up. We'll push it to next month."
Next month. Four more weeks.
"What came up?" I asked.
Hendricks looked uncomfortable. "Just some scheduling conflicts on the client side. These things happen. Elena, I know you've put a lot of work into this, but you'll still lead when we reschedule."
He left before anyone could ask more.
I went back to my cubicle and stared at the presentation file, at four months of my life, and tried to breathe.
***
I found out the truth at lunch.
Two women from accounting came into the break room while I was at the microwave, partially hidden by the open refrigerator door.
"Did you hear about the Hartwell presentation?"
"The one that got canceled? Elena must be pissed."
"Well, apparently Ava mentioned to Adrian that she gets nervous around big client meetings. Something about a bad experience at her last job. And Adrian just... canceled it."
"What? He can do that?"
"He's the CEO. He can do whatever he wants. Especially for her."
They giggled.
"I heard they have history. Serious history."
"Lucky her, landing a job and a billionaire boyfriend."
"Must be nice being the main character."
The microwave beeped. I grabbed my tupperware and walked out.
In the bathroom stall, I stood there, container in hand, trying to process.
Four months of work. Every late night. Every weekend. Every moment I could have spent visiting Grandma or sleeping or having any semblance of a life.
Erased because Ava Sinclair mentioned feeling nervous.
I thought about those books Maya kept trying to give me. The powerful CEO rearranging the world for his beloved's comfort. Canceling meetings, buying out restaurants, moving heaven and earth to spare her a moment's inconvenience.
Romantic.
From where I stood, it just looked like erasure.
***
I left work at 5 PM and walked without direction, past office buildings emptying out, past restaurants filling up.
Eventually I found myself on Madison Avenue, standing in front of Rousseau Boutique.
The dress was still in the window.
I'd been watching it for two years. Every time I passed this store, I'd stop and look. A simple navy blue dress, knee-length, with delicate embroidery along the collar. Elegant without being flashy.
The kind of dress someone important would wear.
I pulled the envelope from my purse. $1,847 in cash. Ones, fives, tens, twenties,whatever I could scrape together after paying Grandma's bills. After skipping lunches. After saying no to every coffee invitation, every birthday drink, every small pleasure.
Two years of no.
The dress cost $1,850. Close enough. I could negotiate.
I'd been planning to buy it after the Hartwell presentation. Proof that sacrifice eventually paid off.
The presentation was canceled, but I was here anyway. I deserved something, didn't I?
I pushed open the door.
"Can I help you?" The saleswoman barely looked up from her phone.
"The navy dress in the window. I'd like to try it on."
"Oh." She looked uncomfortable. "Actually, someone is trying that on right now. But we have other styles—"
"I can wait."
She opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it.
I stood near the window, the envelope heavy in my hand. The bills were soft from handling, some folded multiple times. I could feel each one,the twenty I'd saved by walking forty blocks in the rain. The ten from skipping my birthday dinner with Grandma last year. The five from bringing coffee from home for two months straight.
A voice from the back interrupted my counting.
"This is perfect, Adrian. What do you think?"
My fingers froze on the envelope.
Ava emerged from the dressing room wearing my dress.
It fit her perfectly. The embroidery caught the light, elegant against her skin. She looked like she belonged in it,like it had been made for her.
Behind her, Adrian Wolfe.
I'd seen him three times in three years, always from a distance. Up close, he was taller than I'd expected, sharp-featured, expensive suit perfectly tailored. He looked at Ava like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"I feel pretty in this." Ava spun slightly, her hand trailing over the embroidery,the same embroidery I'd imagined tracing with my own fingers. "It's exactly what I've been looking for."
"Then it's yours."
So casual. Like the price was nothing. Like money never mattered to people like them.
"Are you sure? It's expensive—"
"Ava." He stepped closer, his hand settling on her waist with the ease of ownership. "Anything you want."
The saleswoman materialized, practically vibrating. "An excellent choice, Ms. Sinclair. I'll have it wrapped—"
"Actually," Adrian said, pulling out his wallet without looking at it, "charge me double. I know pieces like this are one of a kind."
"Oh, Mr. Wolfe, that's not necessary—"
"I insist."
The saleswoman's eyes flickered to me for just a second. I saw the apology there. The resignation.
She knew. She'd seen me stop and look at that dress a hundred times.
"Of course, Mr. Wolfe. Right away."
Ava caught sight of me then as she turned toward the dressing room. Her face brightened with recognition.
"Elena! Oh my gosh, hi!" She waved, genuinely delighted. "Are you shopping here too? Isn't this place amazing?"
My throat closed.
"Just looking," I managed.
"You should try something on! Adrian, this is Elena from work,she's been so helpful training me."
Adrian glanced at me for half a second,just long enough for me to register that I was nobody to him,then returned his attention to his phone.
"That's nice," he said absently.
Ava disappeared back into the dressing room. Adrian followed, murmuring something that made her laugh behind the curtain.
The saleswoman approached me, her voice low. "I'm so sorry, miss. I know you've been looking at that dress for—"
"How much for something similar?"
She winced. "Our pieces start at eighteen hundred, but with Mr. Wolfe paying double for that one, I'm afraid we won't have anything comparable for—"
"Right. Thank you."
I walked out.
Behind me, Ava's laugh echoed through the boutique, bright and untroubled. The sound of someone who'd never had to save for two years to buy a dress. Who'd never had to choose between a birthday dinner with her dying grandmother and ten dollars toward a dream.
The sound of the main character.
***
I walked six blocks before I stopped in front of a closed storefront.
My reflection stared back at me in the darkened glass. Thrift store blazer. Old slacks with the loose button I kept meaning to fix. Scuffed flats I'd resoled twice because new shoes cost money I didn't have.
The envelope was still in my hand. I opened it, counted the bills again even though I knew the amount. $1,847.
Two years of skipped meals. Two years of no. Two years that meant nothing because someone else could pay double on a whim.
My phone buzzed. A voicemail notification from the hospital.
I played it on speaker, still staring at my reflection.
"Hi Elena, this is Nurse Pam. I'm calling about your grandmother's account. We're now at ninety days past due, and I'm afraid if we don't receive payment by Friday, we'll need to discuss alternative care arrangements. I know this is difficult, but—" Her voice softened. "Please call me back as soon as you can, sweetie. We need to figure something out."
Alternative care arrangements.
That meant moving Grandma to a state facility. The kind with forty patients per nurse, where people sat in their own waste for hours, where my grandmother would die alone and forgotten.
I ended the voicemail and put the phone back in my pocket.
In the window reflection, I watched a couple pass behind me. The woman was laughing, leaning into her partner, carrying shopping bags from stores I'd never entered.
I looked like what I was: someone who existed in the margins. Someone who saved while others spent. Someone who worked while others played. Someone who sacrificed while others took.
Someone invisible.
***
Tuesday morning, I arrived at 7 AM.
Ava was already at her desk, wearing the navy dress.
"Elena! Morning!" She waved cheerfully, standing to show it off. "I found the most amazing dress yesterday. Adrian took me shopping and insisted on buying it even though I told him it was too expensive. Isn't it beautiful?"
The embroidery caught the fluorescent light. It looked even better than I'd imagined.
"It's beautiful," I said.
"Thank you! I feel so professional in it. Like I could conquer any presentation." She laughed, then her expression shifted. "Speaking of, I heard about Hartwell getting postponed. That must be so frustrating for you."
"It is what it is."
"Well, if there's anything I can do to help when it gets rescheduled, let me know. I know I'm still learning, but I want to contribute where I can."
Her eyes were sincere. She meant every word. She genuinely wanted to help, to be liked, to be a good colleague.
She had no idea that her comfort had cost me four months of work.
She had no idea she was wearing two years of my life.
She had no idea what it meant to choose between visiting your dying grandmother and saving ten dollars.
"Thanks, Ava," I said. "I appreciate that."
I went to my cubicle, sat down, opened my laptop.
The Hartwell presentation file was still there. Twelve minutes, thirty seconds of work that didn't matter anymore.
I minimized it and started on the quarterly reports.
Because that's what I did.
That's all I could do.