Framed for Pushing the Boss's Mistress, Not in This Lifetime!

A hurricane was hitting the city. The floor-to-ceiling glass in the corporate lobby shattered with a deafening crash. Instinctively, I moved. In my past life, I reached out to grab my coworker, but she used my momentum to tumble right into our boss’s arms, screaming: "Someone pushed me!" I was the only one standing near her. Dozens of eyes locked onto me, and no matter what I said, nobody believed me. Back then, that single accusation ruined me. The entire office bullied and isolated me until I was forced out, eventually spiraling into clinical depression and jumping from the roof. Only later did I discover they were sleeping together all along. I had accidentally walked in on them hooking up, and they had plotted my downfall ever since. Now, opening my eyes again, the howling wind whipped into the lobby. The two of them were already exchanging sneaky glances, ready to perform their little routine. Fine. Let's see how well your act plays out this time. The moment the glass shattered, I moved. Except this time, I didn't reach out. Instead, I took a step back, letting the rain-soaked gale slice past my arm. "Ahhh—!" A blood-curdling scream erupted alongside the explosion of glass. It wasn't me, of course. It was Mandy—who was supposed to fall gracefully into our boss’s embrace. She clearly hadn't anticipated me dodging her rehearsed choreography. Thrown completely off balance, she tipped backward into empty air. There were no warm, waiting arms to catch her. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of our Project Director, Mark. He was standing about two steps away, holding a paper coffee cup, an expression of sheer panic frozen on his face. He lunged forward to grab her, but his fingers only brushed Mandy’s elbow. "Crash!" His coffee hit the marble floor, dark brown liquid splattering across the slick tiles. Mandy slammed violently onto the ground. Jagged shards tore through her expensive wool skirt, and dark red blood instantly seeped through her ripped pantyhose around her ankle. The wind roared through the open lobby, leaving debris everywhere. A few coworkers who hadn't made it out before the storm stood rooted to the spot in shock. The AC was blasting cold air, blending with the smell of rain, ozone, and dust. Mandy was sprawled on the floor in absolute misery. When she lifted her head, her pristine makeup was ruined, strands of wet hair plastered to her forehead. A flicker of disbelief and pure venom flashed in her eyes before being masked by a flood of tears. She tried to scramble up, but a sharp pain in her leg sent her collapsing back down. "Mandy!" Snapping out of his daze, Mark rushed over with a pale face. Tossing his briefcase aside, he slid his arms under her shoulders and hauled her halfway into his chest. They clung to each other in a ridiculously intimate position. "Chloe!" Mark’s voice cracked with fury and poorly disguised guilt. "You were standing right next to her! Why didn't you catch her? Did you do that on purpose?!" Here it was. The exact script from my previous life. The exact same accusation, the exact same self-righteous tone. Even that impatient, desperate urge to pin the blame on me was identical. I lifted my chin slightly, looking over Mark’s trembling shoulders straight into Mandy’s tearful, malicious eyes. "Catch her?" I asked calmly, letting just the right amount of genuine confusion lace my tone. "Mark, when the glass broke, Mandy was standing at least three feet away from me. What was I supposed to catch? Thin air?" "You're lying!" Mandy shrieked. Pushing against Mark's arm, she tried to stumble up, tears streaming down her face even harder. "You were... you were closest to me! When the glass shattered, I panicked and tried to back away, but you—you dodged and deliberately shoved me! That's why I fell!" She pointed an accusatory, shaking finger at me. "You’ve always resented me for taking the lead on the Apex Project! You're petty and jealous because someone's doing better than you!" "You took advantage of this storm to humiliate me in the lobby—or worse, to hurt me so I couldn't go on-site!"Whispers rippled through the onlookers as their glances shifted between Mandy and me. "Chloe is usually so quiet, but..." "Wait, didn't Chloe look pretty far from her?" "Still, Mandy and Mark have always been close..." "Look at her ankle, it's bleeding! Someone call security!" "The Apex Project?" I let out a cold chuckle. "Mandy, corporate headquarters personally named me to the core team two weeks ago. It’s in the meeting minutes in black and white." "My job is data modeling and risk assessment. Yours is client relations and venue setup. What exactly would I be jealous of? The fact that you have to drink with clients until midnight while I clock out on time?" Dead silence fell over the lobby. A few coworkers who knew the reality exchanged subtle, knowing looks. Mandy’s face flushed bright red. Her lips trembled: "You... you're making things up! Entertaining clients is part of my professional duty!" She turned toward Mark, brimming with tears. "Mark, listen to her! How could she say that..." Mark looked humiliated. He glanced between Mandy and me, clearly triggered by the mention of their dirty little secrets. Taking a deep breath, he tried to control the damage: "Chloe, Mandy is hurt! Priority number one is getting her treated! Security! Security!" Two guards sprinted over. "Get her to the first-aid room! Now!" Mark barked orders, then rounded on me with a dark, threatening gaze. "Chloe, this isn't over. Accident or not, she got hurt right next to you. Once she’s treated, we're talking in the conference room." "Oh, we're definitely talking," I replied coolly. "Except we won't be talking about my liability. We'll be talking about why the lobby glass suddenly exploded when a hurricane warning was already issued and everyone was ordered to evacuate." "As project director, shouldn't you be answering for this massive safety hazard?" Mark stiffened. "Also," I added deadpan, "when the glass shattered, I noticed your cup of coffee splashed all over my coat." "I'll need to keep this as evidence. If my coat is ruined, it counts toward the incident report damages." I looked down at the dark brown coffee stains on the hem of my beige trench coat. Mark’s hand twitched toward his empty fingers, his face turning an ugly shade of purple. When he dropped the cup earlier, half the liquid really had splashed in my direction. "You're being ridiculous!" he snapped, waving at the guards to take Mandy away. As Mandy was helped past me, she paused. She looked up, the tears vanishing instantly, replaced by icy, poisonous malice. Her lips moved silently: "You're dead." I didn't care about whatever drama was happening in the first-aid room. Her ankle had a scrape. Maybe two stitches at most. Yet she would definitely blow it up like she was crippled for life. That was her signature move: trade superficial cuts for sympathy, and weaponize tears to frame people. In my last life, a tiny scratch was all it took for her to brand me as a malicious attacker. I didn't bother waiting for Mark in the conference room. I walked straight down the hall to the security surveillance room.Joe, the guard on duty, jumped when I pushed the door open, quickly pulling off his headphones. "Chloe? What's going on?" "Joe, the lobby window just blew out. I need to pull the surveillance footage." Joe scratched his head, looking troubled. "Uh... doesn't management have to sign off on that?" "Corporate Safety Regulations, Section 17: In the event of an on-site safety incident or personal injury, any involved party has the immediate right to review and preserve surveillance footage as evidence." I cited the policy verbatim, word for word. In my past life, I was naive, unprepared, and ruined by rumors before I could even blink. This time, I had memorized the employee handbook down to the commas. Joe hesitated for two seconds, then nodded. I hit pause and scrubbed through frame by frame. It was crystal clear. Exactly three seconds before the glass blew, Mandy's body had already started leaning backward. And Mark, holding his coffee, wasn't even in a position to catch her. They had rehearsed the fall, but their timing was ruined. Because I stepped aside. I exported the footage to my phone, then requested the feed from the exterior camera facing the lobby. The glass had shattered inward from an external impact, but the hurricane's wind trajectory didn't match. On the exterior feed, a split second before the glass broke, a glint of reflected light flashed from below. It looked like someone had struck the pane from the outside with a blunt metal tool. I backed up every file, handed Joe a bottle of water, and smiled. "Joe, do me a favor and make an extra backup of this footage on a local drive. Don't let anyone delete it." "Got it, Chloe. I'll lock it down." Stepping out of the security room, my phone buzzed. It was an announcement from Mark on the company Slack: "@channel Please stay safe during the storm. Lobby maintenance is underway. Evacuate immediately. Tomorrow's work schedule will depend on weather updates." Not a single word about Mandy's injury. Not a single word about me. He was trying to bury the incident. Sure enough, by the next morning, the office rumor mill exploded. Mandy had posted a picture of her bandaged ankle on Instagram with the caption: "Some people act quiet and harmless on the outside, but they're purely wicked underneath. Karma sees everything. What goes around comes around." She didn't name names, but the photo was taken right in the company lobby. Everyone knew who she was talking about. The department group chat was buzzing with passive-aggressive messages. "Is Mandy okay? How bad is it?" "Wait, someone said Chloe pushed her?" "No way, Chloe barely talks..." "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for." I ignored all of it. Three days later, once the storm cleared, normal work resumed. The lobby window had been replaced overnight. The brand-new pane gleamed coldly, reflecting my silhouette as I pushed through the revolving doors. The security guard nodded politely; the receptionist kept her head down, sorting mail; near the coffee machine, a cluster of gossiping coworkers instantly shut up the moment I walked past. I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop. The work channels were dead quiet, but tension was brewing beneath the surface. Mandy's Instagram post had been circulating for days, racking up sympathetic comments and outraged replies. Coworkers had screenshotted it into private group chats. I wasn't in those groups, but people always made sure whispers reached my ears. "Chloe, Mark wants to see you in his office," Mia said from across the aisle without looking up. I shut my laptop and stood up. At the end of the glass-walled corridor, Mark was standing by the window with his back to the door. Hearing my footsteps, he didn't even turn around. "Chloe, management has decided to reassign you to Logistics Support. Your handover starts Monday."