She Ate My Lunch for Free Every Day—Until Six Tins of Luxury Caviar Arrived Chapter 03

I smoothed out the note. A smear of grease came away on my thumb.

Kelsey pulled an open package of cookies from her drawer and tossed it onto my desk.

“There. Fancy cookies. They cost more than your fried chicken.”

Only three broken cookies remained in the bag.

I pushed it back.

“Your leftovers are not repayment.”

She shot to her feet so quickly that her chair slammed into the cubicle divider.

“Are you doing this just to humiliate me?”

Derek hurried over and told her to go wash her face.

Then he lowered his voice and scolded me.

“She has to help with your presentation this afternoon. If you alienate her, who’s going to do the work?”

“The person assigned to it.”

“Maya, you need to change your attitude. Say something in the team chat to smooth this over.”

I held the greasy note and looked at him for several seconds.

Then I returned to my desk and added the new photo to my complaint.

Derek posted another message in the team chat demanding an apology from me before the end of the day.

That evening, I ate a hot meal at the deli across the street. Only then did the cramping in my stomach ease.

Renee’s reply was waiting on my phone.

[Complaint logged. We’ll begin reviewing it tomorrow.]

I stared at the reply, then saved Derek’s demand for an apology too.

I could no longer rely on Kelsey to remember next time or Derek to handle it next time.

The following morning, our company was preparing a luxury-food campaign shoot.

I was the production coordinator on site.

Following the intake form, I accepted a temperature-controlled shipping case containing six neatly arranged tins of caviar. Each tin had its own inventory number.

The courier checked the temperature, quantity, and seals with me at the counter.

I verified every item and photographed the handoff.

The shipment was scheduled for pickup at one thirty and would be taken to the studio. The storage instructions for those two hours were explicit.

In the spot where I usually kept my lunch, I placed a clear, lockable storage bin marked for client materials.

I put all six tins inside, snapped the lid shut, and locked it.

On a fresh label, I wrote [MAYA CARTER] in the field for the employee responsible for the items.

I wrote it in large letters.

Kelsey happened to pass by and stopped.

“What did you bring today?”

“Something no one is allowed to touch.”

I looked directly at her.

“Kelsey, I’m warning you. You cannot eat this.”

She scoffed, but defiance flashed in her eyes.

I pressed tamper seals over both latches, took another photograph, and posted it in the project channel.

[Six tins in temporary storage. Seals intact. Do not remove or open before the scheduled handoff.]

Derek replied that he had seen it, then told me to join the camera team in the conference room.

I stopped at his desk and reminded him once more.

“You have the backup key. No one can open that bin today.”

He looked impatient. “I heard you. It’s one meeting. Why are you so worried?”

Because I was.

I knew Kelsey would try to eat it.

I had done everything required to warn her and protect the shipment.

Whether she chose to ignore all of it was up to her.