After three years of dedication, my husband’s father — the boss — gave the promotion to his niece who had only been there eight weeks. I calmly handed in my resignation with a smile. “Congratulations to Lily,” I said. When he read my letter, his reaction stunned the whole office.

“I’m thrilled to announce our new Regional Director,” Arthur’s voice boomed across the conference room, his champagne glass held high. “My brilliant niece, Lily Monroe!”

Applause erupted like a sudden hailstorm. I, however, could not move. My hands stayed frozen in my lap, two useless stones, while my colleagues clapped with a practiced enthusiasm. Eight weeks. Lily had been with the company for exactly eight weeks. She was getting the position I had been groomed for, promised, and had bled for over the last three years.

I forced my mouth into a shape that might pass for a smile and brought my hands together in slow, deliberate claps. The sound was hollow, a perfect echo of the feeling hollowing out my chest. Across the long mahogany table, Arthur’s eyes met mine for a fleeting, guilty second. I saw a flicker of something there—defiance, perhaps, or the cowardice of a man who knows he’s just committed a sanctioned act of theft. He looked away quickly.