Bored of having nothing to do at home, I hide my identity and apply for a job as a designer at the company my son, Jonathan Grady, runs.

A few months later, I'm informed that the company wants to optimize its workforce, and I'm the first to get axed.

"Why?"

"Because you're menopausal. You can't get pregnant."

Hearing that makes me scoff. What kind of absurd reason is that?

"A designer uses her brains to do her job, no? When did a womb become so important?"

I point at Sasha Johnson, who'd been hired before me and was now sitting at her desk, snacking on popcorn instead of working.

"Her line compositions are still a complete mess, and she spends all of her time watching TV shows in the office. But just because she's pregnant, she's not included in the company's layoffs?"

Fiona Lewis, the HR manager, looks at me as though I'm an idiot. "How can an old hag like you, who still has to work, compare yourself to her? She's pregnant with the boss' baby, you know. She's the future Mrs. Grady! The money we save from having to pay your salary can go toward buying her prenatal supplements."

I freeze in shock.

Did my son knock up one of his employees? But he told me he didn't want to have any kids!

"The company is currently optimizing our workforce, and you're the first to go." Fiona Lewis, the HR manager, slammed the termination notice down in front of me. "Sign it, Theresa Allen. Don't make this ugly for everyone."

I glanced at the termination notice. The reason given for my dismissal was, "Age does not meet team-building requirements."

None of my annual or performance bonuses were included in my severance pay. All I got was three thousand dollars, the amount I was owed for this month's work.

There was no mention of any other severance compensation.

"I'm not signing this," I said while pushing the document back towards Fiona. "Per the employment contract I signed, since this is a no-fault termination, I should receive three months of salary as severance pay.

"Besides, my design drafts have passed the preliminary review. You don't have a valid reason to terminate my employment at a time like this."

Fiona snorted in contempt. "Hey, old lady, do you seriously think you're that much of a big deal? The company is about to enforce the hustle culture for all our employees. You're 52 years old. What if you end up dying on the job?"

She looked me up and down before resting her gaze on my abdomen. "Besides, at your age, you've already gone through menopause, right?"

That made me scoff. It was my first time hearing that being menopausal was a cause for termination.

"Does a designer use her brains or her womb to do the work? Is this your so-called optimization standard?"

I turned to the side and pointed at someone on the other side of the glass door.

Sasha Johnson was sitting at her desk with her legs crossed, stuffing popcorn into her mouth. She had earphones on as she binge-watched a TV show on her phone, her body shaking as she giggled.

It had been three hours since she last did anything on the design software that was open on her computer.

I looked Fiona in the eye and said, "Sasha joined three months before me. She spends all her time watching shows on her phone. Six months into the job, and she still can't tell the different layers of a design file apart. Her line compositions are still a complete mess.

"The last time she designed something, the client rejected it three times, and the company had to pay over a million dollars in compensation. But just because she's pregnant, she's not included in the company's layoffs? But I am?"

"You don't know anything!" Fiona rolled her eyes and looked at me as if I were a fool. "Sasha is pregnant with Mr. Grady's child!"

My mind went blank.

Mr. Grady? Was she talking about Jonathan Grady—that son of mine who swore he'd never have a kid and refused to go on any blind dates?

Had he knocked up one of his employees?

"Are you talking about Jonathan Grady?" I asked.

Fiona's eyes widened in shock. "How dare you address Mr. Grady like that!"

She leaned in smugly and added, "Sasha is the future Mrs. Grady! The money the company saves by not paying your salary will be enough for us to buy her prenatal supplements so the baby is healthy. What makes you think an old hag like you, who still has to work to earn a living, can compare to her?"

I froze. Through the glass wall, Sasha slowly lifted her head and flashed me a taunting smile. She stroked her flat belly and made a shushing motion.

Fiona smiled and nodded, lowering her voice as she continued to berate me.

"If you're smart, you'd get the hell out of here now. Don't wait until I call security to kick you out. If things blow up, your savings won't even cover the amount you have to pay to the company for disrupting the workplace!"

I took a deep breath.

So this was what was happening with the company, huh?

Jonathan had only been out of the country for three months on a business expansion trip, but the company was already being run to the ground.

I took out my phone and called Jonathan in front of Fiona.

"What's this? Who do you think you can call to help you pretend like you're some big shot, huh?" Fiona mocked.

The call kept ringing for ages before going unanswered. When I called again, it was rejected right after the very first ring.

I was fuming. Now that Jonathan was abroad, he wasn't even taking calls from his own mother, huh?

All along, he'd staunchly declared to me that women were a distraction and that he wanted to focus on the company, yet this was the situation we were in right now.

The way I saw it, the company was in such a mess because of him.

"Stop pretending." Fiona grabbed the termination notice and put it through the paper shredder. "Since you're not going to sign it, you can forget about getting the salary you're owed, too. Just pack your things and get the hell out of the office."

When I returned to the design department, everyone was quiet. The young employees who used to crowd around me, calling me their mentor, kept their heads down and their eyes focused on the screens in front of them.

They all acted like they were avoiding even the slightest association with me.

Such was the workplace. It was every man for themselves. What a chilling realization that was.

I went back to my desk to find that my once neatly organized design drafts were now tossed together in a messy pile. The ones on top were covered in large brown coffee stains, and even my drawing tablet had been tossed into the trash can next to my desk.

Sasha rolled over in her office chair with a mug of coffee in hand. She didn't even look pregnant yet, but she was acting like she was on the verge of giving birth.

"So sorry about that, Theresa." She pretended to apologize, but she had a smug smile on her face. "My hand slipped earlier, and the coffee spilled out before I even realized it."

What an absurd excuse. Our desks were over six feet apart. How did her coffee end up splattering on my desk?

"But since you're leaving anyway, we don't need to keep this pile of scrap paper around anymore, right?"

The pile of scrap paper she was referring to consisted of the original hand-drawn sketches for the Crest Park project. I'd spent an entire month on them.

Jonathan had previously told me that the project was extremely important to the company. But now, my work had been reduced to a bunch of soiled paper.

"Scrap paper, you say?" I picked up a soaked design sketch and looked at her. "Sasha, do you even understand the structural mechanics employed in this sketch? Do you know which ones are the load-bearing annotations?"

Sasha curled her lip and rolled away scornfully. "Why would I need to understand those things? All I need is Jonny. He said that I just need to look pretty and give him a cute baby. There are plenty of other people who'd line up to do the sketches and all those kinds of menial labor."

Low chuckles rang out from all around us. The other workers were laughing at me for not knowing my place—even the intern, Maisie Hill.

I'd taught her many design techniques. She was practically my mentee, and she certainly liked calling me her mentor in the past. But now, to suck up to Sasha, she mocked me as well.

"That's right, old lady. At your age, you should just go home and help out with your grandchildren. Oh, I heard your son doesn't even care about you. I guess you don't have any grandchildren to look after, either. Well, Sasha here is about to marry rich. She's going to live a life of luxury, you know."

Sasha beamed at the flattery. She pulled out some cash from her purse and casually tossed it onto my desk. "Here you go. Now hurry up, pack your things, and get lost. Stop being an eyesore. It reeks of old people here, and the smell is suffocating my baby."

I looked at the money, then at Sasha's smug face.

The anger inside me slowly settled. I couldn't be any clearer-headed than I was now.

Jonathan had really done it now. Thanks to him, the company was a mess, and I had to clean up after him.

Since these people thought I was just some hapless old lady, I decided to play along.

Bending down, I retrieved the drawing tablet from the trash can and dusted it off. Then, I drew a large X over the coffee-stained design sketches.

"Remember what you said today, Sasha," I said as I threw the pen into the trash. "These sketches are now ruined. No one besides me can handle the Crest Park project. Don't come crying to me later."

Sasha acted as if she'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee again.

"Come crying to you? Have you started developing dementia already, Theresa? I've got Jonathan and an elite team of designers at my beck and call. Why would I need you?" she declared before raising her voice.

"Security! Security! Toss this crazy old hag out of here now!"

The security guards rushed into the office. When they saw me, their gazes became conflicted. As it was, I'd always been courteous and friendly with them.

"Please don't make our jobs harder, Ms. Allen…"

I didn't let them haul me out. I picked up my handbag and walked off with my back straight.

Once I returned to the empty villa with no one else around, I tossed my handbag on the couch and turned on my computer.

I'd only just logged into the account I used for the company's communication platform when I was kicked out of the design department's channel.

Right after that, my phone buzzed. Maisie had sent me a video to gloat in my face.

"See this for yourself, old lady. Mr. Grady just sent Sasha a video to comfort her. Sasha was moved to tears. Mr. Grady dotes on her so much."

I clicked on the video.

The background was a dim hotel room somewhere abroad. Jonathan was in a bathrobe as he looked into the camera and said affectionately, "It's been hard on you, Sasha. Make sure you eat lots of good food for the sake of our baby.

"As for those insubordinate old employees, just fire them if you have to. Don't worry about needing my approval. Once I get home, we'll hold our wedding."

The voice was Jonathan's. The face was also Jonathan's. Even the slight lifting of the brow was something Jonathan frequently did.

Maisie also sent me screenshots of the other employees congratulating the company's group chat with well-wishes.

I watched the video three times. Even I, Jonathan's mother, thought it was really him in the video.

But was it truly him? Was he refusing my calls while sending these lovey-dovey videos to his girlfriend?

Somehow, it didn't add up to me. I'd always thought of Jonathan as the most responsible and dutiful son a mother could have, especially ever since his father died.

Since my calls weren't going through, I could only text him.

"You've got quite the nerve, you little brat! Not only did you knock up one of your employees, but you even hid it from me and refused to take my calls! Do you still even care about your mother?

"You turned the company into a complete mess! Is this how you run a business? If you can't give me a proper explanation, you can forget about being the CEO!"

This time, within minutes, Jonathan replied with a bunch of question marks. "What on earth are you talking about, Mom? Who did I knock up?"

I couldn't believe he was still trying to lie to me, so I forwarded the video Maisie sent me to him.

A few moments later, he texted back, saying, "That's not me, Mom."

He included a selfie of himself, unshaven and standing in front of a construction site wearing a hard hat. He looked completely worn out.

"This project I'm working on abroad is a closed-door project. There's barely any cell reception. Where would I find the time or the opportunity to flirt with someone? Besides, I already told you I don't want kids."

Now that I saw an entirely different version of Jonathan, a cold chill ran down my spine. What was going on?

I replayed the video from Maisie. Since I had no idea what to look for, I could only zoom in and examine each pixel in every frame.

Then, in the 8th frame of the 12th second, I saw Jonathan's finger passing right through the edge of a glass. That was a rendering error.

I also noticed the look in his eyes. The light that reflected in his pupils remained in a fixed position no matter how his head moved.

Only then did it hit me that the video was AI-generated. Had the technology already gotten this advanced?

Even I was fooled, and I was his mother!

I couldn't believe the nerve of that Sasha. She seized her chance while Jonathan was working on a project abroad to create AI-generated videos of him and issue fake commands within the company, doing whatever she wanted.

She was gambling that it was unlikely Jonathan would come back or get in touch with the company. She was using this window of opportunity to her advantage. What was she after? The company's year-end dividends? Or was she going to transfer the company's assets out?

Alarmed, I broke out in a cold sweat and immediately texted Jonathan, "Someone's plotting against the company! Come back at once!"

"Got it," Jonathan replied instantly.

I heaved a small sigh of relief. As long as Jonathan returned to the country, everything would resolve itself.

Nevertheless, the company's annual gala was tomorrow. Since Jonathan wasn't around, Sasha would definitely use the event as her chance to cement her identity as the boss' future wife.

She might even make announcements about major decisions, and if Jonathan didn't come back in time…

The scanned files for the Crest Park project were still on the company server. If those people changed the sketches without knowing what they were doing, resulting in a safety incident, Jonathan could end up in prison for it.

I couldn't allow that. I had to protect the company on his behalf.

After marching into the walk-in closet, I pulled out the evening gown I used to wear to award ceremonies.

All along, to keep a low profile, I'd worn simple, affordable clothing to work.

But this time, I picked up the deep purple silk gown and paired it with the most expensive set of jewelry I owned.