A guy from the client's team posted a project proposal in the group chat with a major flaw. I was going to message him privately, just a friendly heads-up. I sent him a contact request. He ignored it twice. Then he changed his profile picture to a matching couple's avatar. My assistant showed me a different group chat. The same guy was telling everyone I was hitting on him. "I thought I dropped enough hints, but she just won't let go. She should really take a look in the mirror." "I have a girlfriend, for God's sake. Why is she so desperate? It's pathetic." "That ugly duckling must've had a meltdown last night. Went silent, probably too ashamed to reply, huh?" 1 The company was launching a massive, eighty-million-dollar project. Linda Mason was the official lead, but I was in the main project group to keep an eye on things. The chat was a chaotic sea of over a hundred people. The client was a young, dynamic agency called Apex Innovations. One of their project guys, Ken Kane, dropped a file in the chat. I opened it and gave it a quick scan. The unit of measurement for the material data was wrong. He’d written "kilograms" instead of "tons." An easy fix—just move the decimal point—but a potentially catastrophic oversight. If it went unnoticed, procurement, construction, and cost analysis would all be based on that faulty number. All hell would break loose. Apex had a decent reputation; they were usually on the ball. Everyone makes mistakes. I felt a pang of sympathy and decided to give him a quiet heads-up. I found Ken Kane's icon in the project group, tapped on it, and sent a contact request. A day passed. The request vanished into the digital ether. Linda was the public face of this project, and I didn't want to step on her toes or disrespect her authority. That's why I hadn't revealed my senior role in the group chat. My display name was just my name: Monica. I tapped on Ken's icon again and sent another request. This time, I added a note: "Work-related. Need to verify some data in the file." Crystal clear, right? Another day went by. Still nothing. I checked his profile again, and his picture had changed. Yesterday, it was a cartoon boy holding a coffee cup. Today, it was a cutesy, chibi-style couple's avatar. A boy and a girl in matching, ridiculously cheerful striped shirts, standing in front of a giant red heart. My stomach dropped. No, it couldn't be… Did this guy think I was adding him to hit on him? And did he scramble to change his avatar to a couple's one just to stake his claim? I shook my head, trying to banish the thought. That was absurd. No sane person's mind works that way. It had to be a coincidence. He was just due for a new profile pic. My assistant, Alex, knocked and entered, a strange look on his face. "Ms. Vance…" He held out his phone, showing me a screenshot of a group chat. The group name was "Apex Spill the Tea," clearly their agency's private gossip channel. The conversation was buzzing. An ID named "Ken (Design God)"—with that same cartoon couple as his avatar—was lighting up the chat. "LMAO, you guys, that Monica chick from the client side just tried adding me again. This time she's pretending it's about 'work-related communication.'" "Seriously, I can smell a woman's agenda from a mile away." "Haven't I made it obvious enough? I put up the couple's avatar and everything, and she's still coming after me. How desperate can you get?" "I have a girlfriend! This is next-level pathetic. She's so full of herself, it's unreal!" 2 A flood of replies followed, all cheering him on. "Hahaha, Ken, you're irresistible!" "For real, she should get a mirror." "The ugly duckling trying to become a swan." Alex swiped down, showing me more. "Ken's girlfriend is a goddess. That chick can't even compare." "Totally! She's gorgeous and so sweet!" "You know it," chimed in "Ken (Design God)" again. "My girl just bought me the latest designer watch yesterday!" And then: "Some people can only drool over my profile picture, I guess. Hehe." Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ms. Vance, I'm sure he doesn't know who you are. It's just a misunderstanding." I stared at the screen, the words stinging like tiny needles. "Tomorrow afternoon," I said, my voice even, "schedule a meeting with Patricia Vance from Apex. Linda and I will go over there." Alex nodded quickly. "Right away, Ms. Vance." He practically fled my office, phone in hand. I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming a silent, restless rhythm on the desk. Interesting. In all my life, no one had ever called me an ugly duckling. A few moments after Alex left, my phone lit up. A notification: "Ken (Design) has accepted your contact request." He accepts it now? I looked at the cartoon couple on his profile, a cold smile touching my lips. I didn't message him. I didn't want to waste a single word on him. With someone whose logic was this warped, any communication would just be twisted into new material for his "she's harassing me" narrative. My phone pinged again. A message from him. "Ms. Monica, hello. First of all, thank you for your interest." "However, I must state in no uncertain terms: there is no possibility of anything between us beyond necessary professional communication." "I must insist that you maintain a professional distance. This is a matter of respect, not just for me, but for my girlfriend." "Relationships require boundaries. I hope you can understand and act accordingly." "Furthermore, I am being officially promoted to Project Lead of the design department tomorrow." "I am passionate about my work and intend to devote all my energy to it." "Frankly, I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with unnecessary personal entanglements." "I've said my piece. Please conduct yourself with dignity. Regards, Ken Kane." I stared at this long, self-righteous, and utterly delusional "declaration." My thumb hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting, typing and deleting. In the end, I sent nothing. Argue with him? That would be like wrestling with a pig in mud. I flipped my phone face down on the desk. Out of sight, out of mind. 3 The next afternoon, Linda and I pulled up in front of the Apex Innovations building right on time. As expected, their CEO, Patricia Vance, was waiting at the lobby entrance with a small entourage. The moment our car stopped, Patricia practically jogged over, her face a mask of enthusiastic, nervous smiles. "Ms. Vance! Ms. Mason! Welcome, welcome! You honor us with your presence!" She personally opened my car door, her posture deferential. After a few pleasantries, Patricia led us toward the elevators. "We have the conference room all set up. This way, please." The elevator whisked us to the fifth floor. As the doors opened, we could faintly hear the sound of boisterous male laughter drifting from a large conference room at the end of the hall. It was loud and unrestrained. Patricia's expression tightened. She picked up her pace. "These guys," she muttered under her breath, "I told them we had important clients visiting today." She shot us an apologetic smile. "I'll have them quiet down immediately." We reached the conference room. The heavy, frosted glass door was closed. The laughter inside was even clearer now, completely unguarded. "Haha, Ken, what happened next? Did she ever text you back? That Monica girl?" an excited voice asked. My heart sank. It was Ken's voice, dripping with undisguised mockery. "Text back? You think she'd dare?" "She probably saw my message and had a total meltdown." "Not a peep out of her since last night." "Tsk, I've seen her type before. I called her out on her pathetic little crush, and now she's too ashamed to show her face." "What a coward!" The room erupted in laughter. "Hahaha, coward! That's the perfect word for it, Ken!" "Seriously, who does she think she is, making a move on our Ken?" "Our Ken is about to be a Project Lead!" "Damn right! The guy's a genius." "He's handsome, talented, and his girlfriend is gorgeous and spoils him rotten." "Some ugly ducklings will never even touch the feather of a swan like his girlfriend!" Ken's voice adopted a tone of smug "humility." "Ah, come on, guys. My girlfriend's alright, I guess." "She insisted on taking me to that new French place last night, the one that's like five hundred bucks a plate. So stuffy." "I told her we could just grab a burger, but she wouldn't hear of it." "Oh, and now she's saying that once my promotion is official, she's taking me on a celebratory trip to Europe." "So annoying. Like I have the time for that. Honestly!" Patricia's face had gone completely pale, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She raised her hand to push the door open. My hand stopped her. I motioned for her to be silent. Linda, standing beside me, looked tense. Patricia stared at my cold profile, swallowed hard, and didn't dare to breathe. 4 I gave Patricia a slight nod, signaling she could proceed. As if granted a pardon, she took a sharp breath and shoved the heavy glass door open. It slammed against the wall with a loud thwack. The conference room fell instantly silent. Three or four young men were gathered around the table, half-empty coffee cups scattered before them. Ken was sitting near the head of the table, one leg casually crossed over the other, a Starbucks cup in hand. He was sharply dressed today in well-fitting slacks that accentuated his build. The gleeful, smug expression on his face instantly morphed into a standard, sycophantic corporate smile the second he saw Patricia. "Patricia!" He was the first to stand, his voice oozing with a desire to please. The other men scrambled to their feet, plastering smiles on their faces. "Hi, Patricia." "Glad you could make it, Patricia." Patricia's face was a thundercloud. She shot a death glare at Ken and his friends before stepping aside. "Ms. Vance, Ms. Mason, please, come in." She forced a smile and gestured for us to enter. Linda and I walked in. Ken's eyes flicked over Linda with familiar deference, then landed on me. The warmth in his gaze instantly vanished. Linda cleared her throat, trying to diffuse the tension. "Patricia, and this is…?" I cut her off, my gaze fixed calmly on Ken. "Hello. I'm Monica." I stated my name. My voice wasn't loud, but in the unnervingly quiet room, it was perfectly clear. The smile on Ken's face faltered. A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, as if the name sounded vaguely familiar. But just as quickly, the confusion was replaced by a thick wave of annoyance and contempt. He looked me up and down, his eyes scanning me like he was appraising a piece of cheap merchandise. A scornful smirk played on his lips. "Oh?" he drawled. "So it's you. Ms. Monica." "Well, well, you've got some nerve, don't you?" "Following our CEO all the way to the office?" "What's the matter? Did my message last night hit a little too close to home? You came here to corner me?" He let out a short, derisive laugh. "Was I not clear enough on the chat yesterday? Do you need me to repeat myself in front of everyone?" "I told you to keep your distance!" "Do you not understand English?" The air was thick with a dead silence. The other guys darted their eyes between me and Ken, their faces alight with the thrill of watching a drama unfold. Patricia's lips trembled. "Ken, shut your mouth!" "Patricia!" Ken's voice shot up, cutting her off. He looked like a man deeply wronged. He pointed a finger at me, the tip nearly touching my face. "You see this? Yesterday, I was trying to be nice, trying to let her down easy and save her some dignity." "And what does she do? She shows up at my workplace today to harass me!" "Is this even legal? Is there no decency left?" "Patricia, you have to do something about this. I can't work under these conditions!" His voice cracked with emotion. The performance was truly spectacular. 5 Patricia's face was as white as a sheet, cold sweat pouring down her temples. I raised my hand and gently pushed his jabbing finger away from my eye. "Everyone else, out." My eyes flicked to the other men. Patricia, as if receiving a royal decree, immediately barked at them. "You heard her! Get out! Now! Immediately!" The men flinched, hastily grabbing their phones and coffee cups, and scurried out of the room, hugging the wall as they went. As they passed me, their eyes were filled with undisguised contempt and schadenfreude. They clearly thought I was kicking them out to get Ken alone, to pursue him. The stupidity was breathtaking. Ken remained standing, watching his colleagues leave. The feigned look of victimhood vanished, replaced by an expression of smug victory. He even shot a wink toward the door, the corner of his mouth curled high as he mouthed a silent taunt. "See? Told you the ugly duckling wouldn't give up. Had to get me alone." Linda coughed awkwardly. "Patricia, Ms. Vance is…" Patricia finally snapped. "Ken, shut up! Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" Ken jutted out his chin, defiant. "Of course I do, Patricia! It's Monica! The woman who's been harassing me!" "I made it perfectly clear last night. I told her I have a girlfriend. Even if you were trying to set us up, I would never agree to it." "Work is work, and my personal life is my personal life. You're the boss, but you can't interfere with that." He turned back to me. "If you keep this up, I'll post about your disgusting behavior in the main project chat. We'll let everyone from both companies be the judge!" My expression remained flat. What on earth was he even talking about? How had he constructed this elaborate fantasy from a simple contact request? Patricia's voice rose to a full-blown roar. "Are you blind? This is Ms. Monica Vance from corporate headquarters! The head of the entire project!" "The eighty-million-dollar deal was approved because she gave it the green light! Who the hell do you think you are, talking to her like that?" "She's worth millions, one of the most eligible women in the city! A-list actors and heirs of fortunes are lining up to ask her out! You think she'd be interested in you?" "And you dare accuse her of harassment? You must be out of your goddamn mind!"
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