You know the type.
Rachel was the kind of co-worker who played nice when the boss was watching but wouldn’t think twice about throwing you under the bus the moment you turned your back.
She smiled sweetly at team meetings, but every word dripped with venom. It wasn’t just about being good at her job.
For her, it was about being better than everyone else.
And Julie? That’s me. I was her latest target.

I didn’t know what hit me at first.
I was too focused on doing my job to realize the game Rachel was playing.
After all, I approached everything with the goal of getting the work done, making the client happy, and doing it all with a quiet professionalism that some might call boring.
But I guess it was that very fact that made me a threat to someone like Rachel—someone who didn’t mind cutting corners or cutting people down to get ahead.
But as Rachel was about to learn, sometimes the quickest way to the top is also the most dangerous.
Because when you play dirty, it’s only a matter of time before you trip over your own mess.
Silent War
It all started on a Tuesday, the kind of day that usually passed without incident.
I spent the morning polishing a presentation for an important client.
It was one of those projects I’d been working on for weeks, meticulously piecing together every slide, fine-tuning every word, making sure it was perfect.
And this time, it mattered more than ever.
There was a promotion on the line—an open position for a senior account manager, a big step up from where I was now.
Rachel, of course, had her eye on the same promotion.
She’d been dropping not-so-subtle hints about it for weeks, doing everything short of tattooing “Pick Me” on her forehead. She’d even taken on a few extra projects, but everyone knew her style.
She’d delegate the hard work, then swoop in at the last second to take credit.
Still, she was good at presenting herself well—she knew how to look like she was in control, even when she wasn’t.
I didn’t think too much about the competition.
As far as I was concerned, the work would speak for itself. I had no interest in petty office politics.
But Rachel wasn’t about to leave things to chance. When she overheard Julie talking to a co-worker about the presentation she was preparing, Rachel’s wheels started turning.

By the time Julie left her desk for lunch, Rachel had already formed a plan.
She knew Julie would leave her computer unlocked—she always did.
In the span of a few minutes, Rachel read email draft Julie had open, she changed up some things, took out a few others, and sent the unfinished version to the client.
Just enough to make Julie look careless, incompetent.
It would be the kind of mistake you don’t come back from, especially not with a promotion on the line.
The email subject line looked fine, but the body? It was a mess.
Rachel made sure it was just bad enough to raise eyebrows but not so bad that it would come off as intentional sabotage. A few sections were cut off, and there were enough embarrassing typos to make anyone cringe.
The Fallout
I returned from lunch with a cup of coffee in hand, blissfully unaware that my workday was about to launch into chaotic mode.
The draft was still open on my computer, waiting for those final touches.
The presentation wasn’t due until the next day, so I had plenty of time to fine-tune everything.
But across the office, the whispers had already started.
Rachel, ever the snake, casually mentioned to a couple of co-workers that Julie had sent the presentation to the client early, “probably by mistake,” she said, wearing a look of feigned concern. “But it wasn’t really… finished, you know?”
It didn’t take long for the gossip to circulate.
I noticed a few people giving me strange looks, but couldn’t think of anything I’d done, so I dismissed them.
Meanwhile, Rachel watched it all unfold with a barely concealed smirk.
That afternoon, I got a text from the client.
“Can we talk about the presentation you sent earlier today?” it read.
“Wait…what?” Earlier? She hadn’t sent anything yet.
Frantically, she opened her sent folder, and there it was—a half-finished, typo-riddled draft staring her in the face.
I knew I’d been set up.
And there was only one person it could be.
Unexpected Results
Rachel.

It made perfect sense. Rachel had been circling the promotion like a vulture for weeks.
She was ambitious—too ambitious. And she never played fair.
I realized I’d left my computer open.
But, there was no point in accusations. It would just be futile.
I needed proof, and I needed to think fast.
The client had already seen the disastrous draft, so I quickly sent a follow up:
“I’ve just reviewed the document that was sent earlier, and it appears there was a technical issue. Please disregard that version—I’ll send the correct and complete version shortly.”
Professional. Direct. No excuses. I hoped it would be enough to buy her some time.
Next, I got in touch with the IT department.

I asked if my computer activity could be investigated, and immediately began to fix the earlier communication.
But Rachel, in her eagerness to play the hero, had already told their boss about the “unfortunate situation” with the client. She feigned concern, suggesting that she could step in and “fix things” since Julie had apparently fumbled the ball.
The boss, trusting Rachel’s word and wanting to mitigate the damage, arranged an emergency meeting with the client.
It was all moving quickly now.
Rachel was confident, practically glowing with the anticipation of victory.
What Rachel didn’t realize, though, was that Julie wasn’t as out of the loop as she appeared.
The trap was set—but not for me this time.
Springing the Trap
The meeting with the client was scheduled for 3 p.m., and Rachel made sure to be ready well in advance.
She printed out extra copies of the presentation, rehearsed her talking points, and wore her most confident smile.
This was her moment.
As she strutted into the conference room, she caught a glimpse of Julie at her desk, looking unusually calm for someone whose career was supposedly crumbling.
It was odd, but Rachel brushed it off. Julie was probably in denial, she thought.
The client dialed into the meeting, and the discussion began.