The Palm Reader's Warning

The neon sign flickered above the storefront—MADAME ZORA'S—like a dying heartbeat. Elena stepped inside, her palms sweating against her purse. She wasn't the type who believed in this stuff. But after what happened at the office, she needed something.

The old woman nodded to the chair across from her. Elena sat, extending her hand.

"You're climbing," the woman said, tracing the lines on Elena's palm. "But someone stands above you. Blocking your path."

Elena's stomach tightened. Three months ago, David—her friend of seven years—had been promoted to VP. Elena had trained him. Celebrated with him. Last week, she'd discovered he'd been taking credit for her work, systematically undermining her progress while climbing the corporate pyramid she'd helped build.

"This person," the woman continued, "they smile to your face. But behind your back..." She pressed a spot on Elena's palm. "They poison the well."

Elena pulled her hand back, paying the woman. It was ridiculous. She already knew.

The next morning, she walked into the boardroom. David was presenting "his" latest initiative—Elena's project, stolen from her encrypted folder. His palms rested confidently on the mahogany table as he lied about the late nights he'd never worked.

Their eyes met. For a second, something flickered in his expression. Not guilt. Recognition.

He knew she knew.

Elena stood up, buttoning her jacket. She could fight him. Could spend months proving theft, watching HR do nothing while he continued his ascent. Or...

"David," she said, her voice steady. "Your presentation deck is missing page 47. The one with the forecast data."

Confusion flashed across his face. He flipped through the papers.

"It's there," he insisted.

"It's not." She turned to the CEO. "I have the complete version. Along with the email chain from October where David requested my research. He just... forgot to include the attachment where I actually sent it."

The room went silent. David's confident facade cracked. His palms began to sweat.

Sometimes, Elena thought, you didn't need a fortune teller to see the future. You just needed to stop letting people stand on your back while they climbed over you to the top.