The Corporate Palm Reader

Maya should have trusted her instincts when Elena's hair changed from mouse-brown to champagne blonde without a single mention of the salon. Three years of cubicle walls, shared coffees, and whispered complaints about management had created a friendship that felt like armor against the crushing indifference of the corporate world.

Now, watching Elena fidget in the sleek glass conference room, Maya noticed everything she'd missed before: the way Elena's palm sweated against her water glass, leaving condensation rings like evidence. The way her eyes darted to the door whenever someone entered. The careful questions she'd asked last week about Maya's side project—the one she'd only shared with her supposed friend over drinks.

"So," Elena said, her voice too bright, "how's the patent application coming?"

The words hung between them like toxic gas. Maya had filed the paperwork yesterday. She hadn't told anyone except—

"You're the leak," Maya said, the realization hitting her with physical force.

Elena's face crumbled. "They offered me your position if I helped them build their own version. I have student loans, Maya. I'm drowning."

"So you threw me a life preserver made of knives?"

Elena reached across the table, her palm open and pleading. "You don't understand. They were going to fire you anyway. At least this way, one of us wins."

Maya stood up slowly, straightening her blazer with careful precision. "We were friends. I trusted you with everything—my ideas, my fears, my actual palm readings when I was spiraling. You know I told you I have trust issues because of what happened with my mother. And you still—you still—"

"I know," Elena whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I'm the worst kind of spy there is. I'm the one who makes you love them first."