Emily Cooper paced back and forth in her chic Paris apartment, the sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She was fuming, her mind spinning with the betrayal that had just unfolded. It had taken everything in her not to explode in front of Sylvie and Antoine earlier that day when she'd found out the truth—the truth about how her brilliant marketing pitch had been deliberately sabotaged.

It was supposed to be her moment, her big win at Savoir, the one to prove once and for all that she was more than just an outsider with a questionable grasp of French. But instead, she'd been blindsided by someone she never expected to turn on her. Camille, the charming, sophisticated Frenchwoman who had become one of her closest friends in the city, had been the one to leak Emily's pitch to a rival agency. And now, the campaign was in shambles.

The lyrics from Taylor Swift's "mad woman" pulsed in her mind: "Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy, what about that?" She could still hear the disbelief in Camille's voice when Emily had confronted her earlier. The subtle gaslighting, the way Camille had smiled sweetly while pretending to have no idea what Emily was talking about. It made Emily feel like she was losing her mind, like she was the one being unreasonable.

But she wasn't crazy. She knew what she'd seen, and she knew Camille had betrayed her.

As she paced, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. It was a message from Gabriel, Camille's ex-boyfriend—and the man who had only complicated things further between them. Emily stared at his name on the screen, torn between anger and the undeniable pull she always felt when it came to him. She didn't want to talk to Gabriel right now. Not when she was so furious with Camille. But ignoring him wasn't an option either.

Gabriel: Can we talk?

Emily sighed, running a hand through her hair before typing a quick reply.

Emily: Not tonight, Gabriel. I can't deal with this right now.

She hit send and tossed the phone back onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a frustrated groan. This was all too much. How had her life in Paris—this dream she'd been chasing—turned into such a mess? She had come here to make a name for herself, to prove that she could thrive in a new city, a new culture. And instead, it felt like her world was crumbling around her.


The next morning, Emily sat at her desk in the sleek Savoir office, staring at her laptop screen but not really seeing anything. Sylvie was in a meeting with Antoine, and Emily had been given the cold shoulder all morning. She knew why—her failed pitch had left a sour taste in everyone's mouth. But they didn't know what she did. They didn't know that it wasn't her fault.

Suddenly, her email dinged with a new message, and Emily's heart sank when she saw Camille's name in the sender line. She hesitated before opening it, unsure if she was ready to deal with more of Camille's subtle manipulation.

Camille: Emily, I think we need to talk about what happened. There's been a misunderstanding.

Emily scoffed, her fingers tightening around the mouse as she glared at the screen. A misunderstanding? That was rich. Camille had stolen her idea, sold it to a rival agency, and now she was pretending like it was all some kind of miscommunication?

Without thinking, Emily hit "reply" and started typing furiously.

Emily: There's no misunderstanding, Camille. You sabotaged me. And for what? To make me look like a fool in front of everyone at Savoir?

She hit send and leaned back in her chair, her heart pounding. Part of her knew she shouldn't let Camille get under her skin like this, but she couldn't help it. The betrayal felt personal, like Camille had gone out of her way to ruin her success in Paris.

Within minutes, Camille's response came back.

Camille: Emily, I didn't sabotage you. You're making this bigger than it is. I'm sure we can find a way to resolve this.

Emily stared at the message, feeling her anger flare up again. The calm, patronizing tone of Camille's words made her blood boil. This wasn't something she could just "resolve." This was her career, her reputation, and Camille had tried to destroy it.

Just then, Luc walked by her desk, raising an eyebrow as he noticed her clenched fists.

"You look like you're about to punch someone, Emily," Luc said, stopping to lean against her desk with his usual nonchalance. "What's going on?"

Emily let out a sharp breath, gesturing toward her laptop. "It's Camille. She—she sabotaged my pitch, Luc. She leaked my idea to a rival agency, and now she's acting like it's no big deal."

Luc's eyes widened in surprise. "Camille? Really? I didn't think she had it in her."

"Oh, trust me," Emily said bitterly. "She had it in her."

Luc shrugged, giving her a sympathetic look. "Well, you know what they say. In business, there are no friends—just people you haven't stepped on yet."

Emily groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "Thanks for the pep talk, Luc."

He chuckled, patting her shoulder lightly. "Anytime."


By the time the day was over, Emily was exhausted—both emotionally and physically. She couldn't stop replaying the events in her head, the way Camille had smiled so sweetly during their confrontation, as if everything was perfectly fine. And now, Camille wanted to act like it was all a misunderstanding? No way. Emily wasn't going to let her get away with this.

That night, as she sat in her apartment, Emily began to form a plan. She wasn't going to confront Camille directly again—that wouldn't do any good. Instead, she was going to show Camille that she couldn't just waltz into Emily's life and tear everything apart without consequences. She was going to fight back, in her own way.

The lyrics from "mad woman" echoed in her mind once more: "And women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you..." Emily had spent enough time playing nice, trying to fit in with the Paris elite. But now? Now she was ready to play the game on her own terms.


Over the next few days, Emily started working behind the scenes. She reached out to contacts she had made over the past year in Paris—people in the marketing and fashion industries, people who respected her work and knew what she was capable of. She began quietly building a new pitch, one that would blow Camille's underhanded scheme out of the water.

She also made sure to distance herself from Camille in social circles. Emily wasn't about to let her friendship with Camille tarnish her reputation any further. And while Gabriel had tried reaching out to her a few more times, Emily decided to keep her distance from him too. She needed to focus, to stay clear-headed, and getting caught up in her complicated feelings for Gabriel wasn't going to help.

One evening, after a long day of strategizing, Emily sat in a café with Mindy, her best friend and confidante in Paris. Mindy had been there for her through thick and thin, and tonight was no different.

"I can't believe Camille did that to you," Mindy said, shaking her head as she sipped her wine. "I always thought she was so... elegant, you know? But this? Sabotaging your career? That's low."

Emily nodded, her jaw tightening. "Yeah, I thought we were friends. I thought I could trust her."

"Well," Mindy said, leaning forward with a mischievous smile, "I hope you've got a plan to show her you're not someone to mess with."

"Oh, I do," Emily replied, her eyes gleaming with determination. "She's not going to know what hit her."


A week later, Emily's revenge was ready. She had secured a meeting with a major luxury brand—one that Camille's agency had been eyeing for months. Armed with her new pitch, Emily walked into the meeting with her head held high, ready to prove to everyone that she wasn't just an outsider in Paris. She was a force to be reckoned with.

The meeting went flawlessly. By the time Emily left the boardroom, the brand's executives were singing her praises, and she had secured a deal that would elevate Savoir's reputation even further. And as a bonus? She knew Camille's agency had been rejected for the same project.

That evening, as Emily walked through the streets of Paris, the weight that had been pressing on her chest for days finally began to lift. She had done it. She had fought back, not with anger or spite, but with hard work and determination. Camille might have tried to take her down, but Emily had come out on top.

The lyrics from "mad woman" played softly in her mind as she smiled to herself: "And there's nothing like a mad woman, what a shame she went mad, no one likes a mad woman..."

Emily wasn't mad. She was smart, she was capable, and she was no longer playing by anyone else's rules.

And in the end, that was the best revenge of all.