The very first time the intern participated in a major project bid, she used AI to generate the entire proposal—and the first time I tried to stop her, it cost me my career, my reputation, and eventually my life.
Chapter 1
“Look, Chloe!” Daisy Vance shoved her phone toward my face. “This thing is unbelievable.”
The bright screen nearly touched my nose. Daisy had been at Apex Creative for twenty-three days, and she possessed the kind of fresh-faced confidence that made older executives call her fearless when what they really meant was inexperienced. Her blond hair was tied back with a pearl clip, and when she smiled, she looked so harmless that nobody noticed how carefully she watched people for signs of approval.
I noticed.
Because I had already died once because of her.
For one terrible second, the office disappeared. I heard rain whipping across a rooftop twenty-seven stories above downtown Chicago, felt Brandon Knight’s fingers crushing my wrist, and saw the face of the man I had planned to marry as he hissed, “Why do you always have to make Daisy’s life harder?”
Then his hands moved.
Then there had been nothing beneath my feet.
Now I was back at my desk three weeks before the deadline for Evercore Industries’ $30 million Smart Heritage Center contract, and Daisy was alive, Brandon was still my fiancé, and no one in the office knew what was coming.
Daisy tapped her screen excitedly. “I uploaded the RFP and told the AI to generate a high-scoring bid with the lowest possible price. It says we have a ninety-two percent chance of winning.”
Several younger employees gathered around.
“You uploaded the whole RFP?”
“And the technical package. Why waste time copying sections?”
A chill passed through me.
In my first life, I had immediately warned her. Evercore’s bid documents were covered by a strict nondisclosure agreement. Proprietary engineering drawings, pricing models, client data, and structural specifications were forbidden from being uploaded to public third-party platforms. The final bid also required secure credentials, notarized forms, corporate certificates, and an authorized digital signature no public chatbot could possibly provide.
Daisy had promised she understood.
Then she had gone crying to Brandon.
He had publicly accused me of resisting innovation and humiliating a young employee. Daisy, emboldened by his support, had delayed the real submission until minutes before the deadline. The bid went in incomplete and was rejected. Apex lost the contract, Daisy blamed me for “destroying her confidence,” and Brandon ordered me to sign an admission taking responsibility.
When I refused, he invited me to the rooftop to “save our relationship.”
I never came back down.
This time, I looked at Daisy’s glowing screen and smiled.
“That’s impressive.”
The office went strangely quiet.
Daisy blinked. She had clearly expected a lecture. I could almost see the tears she had prepared drying behind her eyes.
I raised my hands and applauded twice.
“If the software is that capable, you should lead the Evercore bid.”
Someone behind me inhaled sharply.
Daisy’s mouth opened. “Me?”
“You discovered the tool. You trust it. You believe the old process is obsolete.” I leaned back in my chair. “A project this important deserves the person most confident in the new approach.”
Ecstasy flashed across her face before she replaced it with modest concern.
“Oh, Chloe, I wouldn’t want to take something you’ve worked on for three months.”
“I don’t mind.”
At that moment, Brandon’s office door opened.
Brandon Knight stepped out in a dark blue dress shirt with his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. At thirty-six, he was Apex Creative’s youngest vice president and had mastered the polished warmth ambitious men use when they want everyone to forget how ambitious they are.
Once, I had loved everything about his face.
Now I remembered it looking down at me over a rooftop railing.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Daisy has been showing real initiative.”
Naturally, he stopped beside her.
Daisy lowered her eyes. “I’m just worried I lack experience.”
Brandon smiled at her. “That’s what leadership is for.”
Then he looked at me.
“Chloe, mentor her. Don’t smother her.”
I smiled back. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
That morning, I sent a written notice to the entire project channel.
Effective immediately, Daisy Vance will assume full ownership of the Evercore Smart Heritage Center bid. I will serve solely as an observer. All strategic decisions, submissions, client communications, and technical approvals will be handled by the assigned project lead.
Brandon replied within two minutes.
Approved. Apex needs to empower younger talent and embrace new tools.
Daisy added three heart emojis and wrote, Thank you both for trusting me! I won’t let the team down.
I saved screenshots of everything.
By afternoon, Daisy had moved into the project war room my team had occupied for months. The walls were covered with structural diagrams, visitor-flow maps, interview notes, archival photographs, construction schedules, and budget contingencies.
She stared around in disgust.
“This looks like somebody’s basement.”
A senior designer named Paul glanced at me, but I said nothing.
Daisy tore down the first diagram.
“AI can organize this much better.”
Paul stepped forward. “Those notes contain Chairman Sterling’s personal feedback from five site visits.”
Daisy laughed. “He’s the chairman of a global industrial company. Obviously he wants something futuristic.”
That nearly made me smile.
Arthur Sterling hated flashy futurism.
At seventy-two, he had spent half a century building Evercore from a Midwestern metalworking business into one of the country’s largest clean-energy manufacturers. During our second site visit, he had stood beneath the rusted beams of the original factory and told me, “If people walk in here and forget who worked these floors, we failed.”
My concept had been built around that sentence.
The visitor would begin with Evercore’s industrial past—its first casting tools, photographs of welders, handwritten shift logs, old employee badges—and gradually move into interactive displays showcasing hydrogen systems, robotics, and renewable-energy technology.
The theme was simple.
The Legacy of the Forge Meets the Energy of the Future.
Daisy threw my notes into the recycling bin.
Then she typed into her AI program.
Create a mind-blowing futuristic smart showroom. Make it viral, immersive, youthful, and luxurious.
Within seconds, her screen filled with phrases like “metaverse command center,” “interstellar factory,” “cyber-industrial journey,” and “digital executive avatar.”
“Amazing,” she breathed.
My email chimed.
It was from Marcus Drake, Evercore’s procurement director.
Chloe, we heard Apex changed project leads. Chairman Sterling is concerned. Will you still attend tomorrow’s clarification meeting?
I answered carefully.
Yes. I will attend, but I am no longer presenting.
His response came almost immediately.
The chairman approved the direction you developed. Is there a reason for the change?
Across the room, Daisy was asking the AI to create a “galaxy-class slogan.”
I typed back.
I’ll bring my original work for reference if needed.
Then I encrypted the proposal I had spent three months creating, printed a bound copy at home, and placed it inside my briefcase.
The next morning, Daisy walked into Evercore’s Chicago headquarters wearing a white designer suit and carrying no paper except a single printed AI summary.
“Chloe,” she said sweetly, holding out the presentation remote, “since I’m leading, would you mind advancing the slides?”
Brandon nodded approvingly. “Good idea. Clear roles.”
I accepted the remote.
“Of course.”
Arthur Sterling sat at the head of the executive conference table, silver-haired and broad-shouldered, with Marcus at his right. Six board members and two engineers sat nearby.
Daisy opened with a brilliant smile.
The first slide appeared.
EVERCORE INTERSTELLAR FUTURE CITY.
Beneath it:
TAKING INDUSTRIAL CIVILIZATION BEYOND THE GALAXY.
Arthur’s eyebrows slowly drew together.
Daisy launched enthusiastically into starship entrances, holographic tunnels, a “Milky Way Factory,” and something called the Metaverse Lounge.
Then came her centerpiece.
“We’ll create an AI-generated younger version of Chairman Sterling to greet visitors.”
Arthur stared at her.
“A younger version of me?”
“Yes! A digital twin. More modern. More approachable.”
Arthur set down his coffee.
“I’m not dead.”
Daisy’s smile faltered.
He leaned back. “Why do I need a fake ghost of myself greeting people in my own building?”
Brandon jumped in. “Mr. Sterling, Daisy is simply exploring ways to attract younger audiences.”
Arthur ignored him.
“Our visitors are federal energy officials, institutional investors, engineers, foreign trade delegations, and industrial partners. We are not building an amusement park.”
Daisy began clicking faster.
The next slide displayed case studies.
In the middle was the logo of Evercore’s fiercest competitor.
Marcus sat forward.
“Why is Vanguard Energy on our presentation?”
Daisy stared at the screen. “That must be an AI sourcing mistake.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
Then the pricing slide appeared.
TOTAL BID: $2.88 MILLION.
Marcus actually laughed.
It was not a happy sound.
“Ms. Vance, have you read our budget requirements?”
“The AI determined aggressive pricing would improve our competitiveness.”
Marcus opened the RFP and slid it across the table.
“Our structural reinforcement allowance alone is over four million dollars.”
Daisy stopped breathing.
Arthur’s voice became dangerously calm.
“You are proposing to renovate a protected industrial facility, install advanced hydrogen exhibits, reinforce a century-old foundation, and integrate secure digital infrastructure for less than the cost of our foundation work.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Arthur looked toward me.
“Ms. Miller, did you approve this?”
Before I could answer, Daisy whispered, “Chloe supported giving me full control.”
I placed the remote on the table.
“That part is true.”
Brandon relaxed slightly.
Then I unlocked my tablet.
“At 9:15 yesterday morning, Mr. Knight formally transferred all strategic authority, technical oversight, presentation responsibility, and submission control to Ms. Vance. I was specifically instructed to remain an observer.”
I turned the tablet around.
The written approvals were there.
Brandon’s face went pale.
I continued. “I have not reviewed, edited, or approved any portion of this presentation.”
Arthur turned toward Brandon.
“You removed the project architect three weeks before a thirty-million-dollar bid?”
Brandon swallowed. “This was meant to encourage innovation.”
“Then congratulations.”
Arthur stood.
“You’ve demonstrated it.”
He looked at Marcus.
“Disqualify Apex Creative from the bid.”
Brandon shot to his feet. “Mr. Sterling, please. Chloe has another proposal.”
I did not move.
“Chloe,” he snapped. “Show them the master deck.”
I looked at him.
“What master deck?”
His eyes widened.
“Your original files.”
“You mean the materials Daisy removed yesterday because they were prehistoric?”
Daisy covered her mouth.
Arthur turned toward the door.
“Meeting over.”
I rose.
“Mr. Sterling.”
He stopped.
I opened my briefcase and removed a slate-gray bound portfolio.
“Three months ago, you told me that if visitors couldn’t feel the grease, iron, sweat, and pride of the people who built Evercore before they saw the future, then the building would become nothing but an expensive toy.”
Arthur slowly turned around.
I held out the book.
“My proposal begins with the original alloy ingot poured in your father’s factory in 1974.”
Marcus became completely still.
“The first gallery surrounds it with the recorded voices and photographs of the men and women who worked that shift. From there, visitors move gradually through five decades of engineering until they reach Evercore’s modern hydrogen systems.”
Arthur walked toward me.
“The budget?”
“Twenty-nine million six hundred forty thousand dollars, including structural contingencies and seismic reinforcement.”
He took the portfolio.
For several minutes, he read in silence.
Then he closed it.
“Marcus.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Escort Mr. Knight and Ms. Vance downstairs.”
Brandon stared at him.
Arthur looked at me.
“Ms. Miller, come to my office.”
Then he said the words that changed my second life.
“Let’s discuss how we build this without Apex Creative.”
