My Bank Account Had a Secret Thief

My intern, Chloe Jenkins, used a ghostmirroring hack on my bank account. No matter how much money I saved, my balance would always magically drop to exactly $50.

In my past life, my ultimate dream was to buy a condo near our office in Manhattan.

I worked myself to the bone until I finally saved up $50,000 for the down payment.

But when I swiped my card at the leasing office, the sales agent gave me a pitying look. "Declined. Insufficient funds."

I checked my transaction history, argued with the bank, and even went to the police. But everyone treated me like I was insane.

Because on paper, my bank statement showed every single purchase clear as day.

But I had never made those luxury purchases! I was living on instant ramen!

I called my parents back in Ohio, sobbing, only to get a cold scolding in return.

"Ava, are you seriously making up stories to cover up your reckless spending?"

"What a ridiculous lie! If you need money, just ask. You don’t have to invent a scifi conspiracy theory."

When I told my colleagues, some of the toxic male agents in our office looked at my statements and started snickering.

"Wow, Ava spends thousands at highend hotel bars at 2 AM. That’s exactly what it costs to hire a hot male escort for the night!"

No matter how much I explained, the gossip only grew.

I posted my story anonymously on Twitter, but the comments ridiculed me, calling me a cloutchaser trying to set up a scam.

Only one anonymous user left a serious comment: "Watch the people around you. See if anyone’s lifestyle matches your leaked bills."

I started watching. Sure enough, I noticed our new intern, Chloe Jenkins. Every time she bought something, a notification popped up on my phone showing a deduction of the exact same amount.

Even when she ordered a Starbucks drink, my card was charged instantly.

Once I was sure, I confronted her. She just laughed in my face, calling me a crazy, broke loser who was jealous of her lifestyle.

She even rallied the rest of the office against me, painting me as a manic stalker, and successfully had me committed to a psychiatric facility.

I spent two agonizing years in that mental ward. Unable to take the torture anymore, I finally found a chance to escape and threw myself into the Hudson River.

But when I opened my eyes again... I was back. Back to the day before I was supposed to sign the papers for my new condo.

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was open my banking app.

Unsurprisingly, my balance was exactly $50.

I quickly pieced my thoughts together. At this moment, my hardearned money had already been transferred to Chloe’s card through whatever sick method she was using.

I wanted to rip her throat out. But in my past life, after my suicide, I saw my parents' hair turn white overnight with grief. I regretted it instantly.

If I acted impulsively like before, I would only ruin my life again.

Just then, my manager, Sarah Miller, called me over.

"Ava, this new listing is a tough nut to crack, but the commission is a sweet five grand! Don’t say I never look out for you!"

My throat tightened. I swallowed hard, almost on instinct.

Five thousand dollars. That was enough to cover my Manhattan rent and leave me with plenty of pocket money.

But I forced myself to shake my head.

"Thanks, Sarah. But for the next month, I’m taking a break from taking new clients."

Ignoring Sarah’s bewildered expression, I turned and walked out of her glass office.

The office partitions were thin, and everyone outside had already heard.

Instantly, whispers erupted.

"Isn’t Ava Vance the top sales agent in the whole company? They call her the 'Deal Machine.' Why is she turning down a client?"

"Not just today. Didn't you hear her? She’s taking a whole month off!"

Ignoring the gossip, I pulled out my phone, opened UberEats, and ordered the largest iced Americano. It wiped out the last $50 from my account.

In my past life, I wouldn't even spend $4 on gas station coffee.

To survive in a cutthroat city like New York, I had practically chained my life to my desk.

I worked until 3 AM making cold calls, got up before dawn, and squeezed myself into the subway like a canned sardine for a twohour commute just to clock in on time.

One minute late meant a $50 deduction.

That was my food budget for an entire week.

My dream was to own a home near the office, even if it was just a tiny 300squarefoot studio.

Every month when my commission hit, I kept only $300 for basic groceries.

The rest went straight into my savings.

Yet, the $50,000 I nearly died saving had ended up in someone else's designer bag!

Right then, the glass doors of the office were pushed open.

"Hey guys! Lunch is on me today!"

Chloe’s loud, obnoxious voice echoed through the room.

Her face was glowing, and she was flaunting a brandnew Chanel handbag, looking like a trailertrash lottery winner trying to act rich.

"We’re going to the Grand Imperial Hotel! Order whatever you want!"

The office erupted. Colleagues swarmed her instantly.

"Chloe! Did you hit the jackpot?"

"Did you find yourself a sugar daddy?"

I didn't move. I just sipped my coffee, my eyes cold as ice, staring at her.

Because I knew she was spending my money.

Surrounded by the crowd, Chloe waved her hands in mock modesty.

"Oh, stop it! I just bought a scratchoff ticket the other day and hit a small prize."

Someone immediately nudged her. "How much did you win?"

Chloe shot a glance at me, a smug smirk playing on her lips.

"Not much," she said casually. "Just around fifty grand."

A collective gasp echoed through the office.

Fifty thousand dollars was a massive sum for us 9to5 corporate drones.

But I noticed that ever since Chloe walked in, her eyes kept darting back to me.

She was watching me. Like an scientist observing a lab rat.

She was waiting to see if I had discovered that my bank account was completely drained.

I clamped down on the raging hatred inside me, forcing down the urge to scream at her.

Not yet. I couldn't startle the snake before I had the trap ready.

I stood up, pasting on a perfect, polite smile that looked exactly like genuine envy.

"Congratulations, Chloe! You've got to let some of that luck rub off on me."

Seeing how normal I acted, a flash of surprise crossed Chloe's eyes, followed by a subtle, relieved sigh.

She probably thought I was still clueless about my empty bank account.

As lunchtime approached, Mia, who sat next to me, leaned over.

"Ava, didn't you say you'd saved enough for a down payment? When are we going to see the condo? I'll go with you."

At the mention of the condo, my fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms.

But I quickly relaxed them, keeping my expression breezy.

"No rush," I said.

"I lost my ID card a couple of days ago, and the DMV is taking forever to mail the replacement. Plus, the housing market is fluctuating. I'll wait and see."

The moment the words left my mouth, I felt that burning gaze on me again.

It was Chloe.

She was staring, a hint of glee slipping into her eyes.

Chloe was an intern who had only joined two months ago. At fivefootthree and nearly two hundred pounds, she had average looks and the worst sales record in the department.

In our luxury real estate agency, where looks and sales charts determined your survival, she should have been at the very bottom of the food chain.

Yet, in my past life, she took my $50,000, got fullbody liposuction, and underwent extensive plastic surgery.

She transformed herself into a wealthy, gorgeous ITgirl overnight.

Then, she used my money to bribe our coworkers, teamed up with a few male agents, and had me thrown into an asylum under the guise that I had "lost my mind."

Thinking of the two years of torture in that hospital, I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart.

At noon, Chloe took us to the Grand Imperial Hotel. She grandly announced we could order whatever we wanted.

I didn't hold back. I flipped the menu straight to the most expensive pages.

"We’ll have the Alaskan King Crab, the largest one you have."

"The bluefin tuna sashimi platter."

"And the wagyu ribeye."

With every dish I ordered, our colleagues' eyes widened.

Mia gently tugged my sleeve. "Ava... isn't this a bit too much? It’s so expensive."

I smiled at her and said nothing.

I was spending my own money. How could it be a waste?

Chloe’s cheek twitched, but with everyone watching, she had to keep up her richgirl act.

"It’s fine! Ava is our top agent, she works so hard. She deserves a good meal to recharge!"

She smiled brightly, though her eyes were twitching.

"After all, you need to keep working hard to bring in more sales for our team!"

Before I could reply, a coworker nearby chimed in.

"Oh, Chloe, you weren't here this morning. Ava told Sarah she's taking a break. She’s not taking any new listings for the next month."

The air in the room instantly froze.

I slowly wiped my mouth with a silk napkin and looked up at Chloe.

The smile on her face stiffened, cracking inch by inch.

"What did you say?"

She stared at me, her voice rising to a sharp, hysterical pitch.

"Ava, why are you taking a break?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

I met Chloe’s furious, panicked gaze and let my lips curl into a slow smile.

"I’m taking a break. Why are you so worked up about it?"

The surrounding colleagues looked back and forth between us, their eyes gleaming with gossip.

"Yeah, Chloe," Mia couldn't help but speak up. "Ava isn't even worried. Why are you reacting so strongly?"

"Seriously. If I didn't know better, I’d think you were the one losing the commissions."

The whispers acted like a bucket of cold water, snapping Chloe out of her panic.

The ugly snarl on her face instantly vanished, replaced by a look of deep, fake concern.

"I... I’m just worried for Ava!"

She raised her voice, trying to sound sincere.

"Didn't she say she was just a few sales away from her down payment? The units at Brookside Luxury are selling out fast! If she stops now, she’ll lose so much money! I’m just feeling terrible for her!"

She looked like she was about to cry. It was an Oscarworthy performance.

I chuckled.

"I'm just tired. I want to rest."

I casually picked up a piece of king crab, slowly cracking the shell.

"Besides," I paused, looking up at her with an innocent expression, "didn't you just win the lottery? Fifty thousand dollars is a lot. If I'm really short on my down payment... surely you wouldn't mind lending me some, right?"

The air froze again.

Every eye in the room locked onto Chloe.

The color drained from her face, leaving her ghostly pale. Her lips trembled, but she couldn't utter a single word.

I popped the sweet crab meat into my mouth and added casually, "Our Chloe is so generous. I’m sure you wouldn't mind, right?"

Trapped under the weight of everyone's gaze, she practically squeezed the words out of her throat.

"Of... of course."

Fearing I would actually ask for the cash right there, she quickly added, "But, I didn't win "that" much. It’s... it’s just some pocket money."

I glanced at her brandnew Celine dress, the limitededition Chanel bag on her chair, and the lavish feast on the table that cost more than a normal person's monthly rent.

Indeed.

My $50,000 wouldn't last her more than a few weeks at this rate.

I thoroughly enjoyed that lunch.

Before we left, I had the waiter pack up the untouched king crab and wagyu beef.

A few colleagues whispered behind my back.

"Oh my god, packing up leftovers at a celebratory lunch? That is so tacky."

"Right? Acted like she's never eaten real food before. How embarrassing."

I heard them but didn't care. I just turned to Chloe with a sweet smile.

"Chloe, thank you so much for the treat. It would be a crime to waste such good food. You don’t mind if I take it home, do you?"

Chloe’s face looked like a rotten eggplant.

But in front of everyone, she could only grit her teeth and nod.

"No... I don’t mind."

Back at the office, I casually placed the takeout boxes into the communal fridge, completely ignoring the judgmental looks of my coworkers.

In the afternoon, I knocked on the door of the finance office.

"Brenda, I need to request an emergency cash advance from the company's petty cash fund."

Brenda looked up from her computer. "Company policy says the manager needs to sign off on it, and all payments are normally processed through direct deposit at the end of the month."

I handed her a presigned form.

"Sarah already approved it."

"And I don't want a direct deposit."

"I need cash."

If my money got sucked out of my bank account like a ghost, then I would just use physical cash. Let’s see her transfer paper bills.

An hour later, I walked back to my desk with a thick envelope of cash.

It was my base salary and part of last month's commission—$15,000.

I stuffed the envelope into the deepest, zippered compartment of my tote bag.

In my past life, my descent into hell started with that stolen $50,000.

In this life, I would claw my way back starting with this $15,000.

But I hadn't even warmed up my seat for five minutes.

My right eyelid began to twitch violently.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It grew more intense by the second.

A wave of dread washed over me.

I quickly unzipped my bag and reached into the inner compartment—

Empty!

The envelope was still there, but the thick stack of bills was gone!

My blood ran cold. The hair on my arms stood up.

I hadn't realized that Chloe's deposit transfer trick was completely unrestricted by physical distance!

Was she trying to cut off all my lifelines?

I looked over at Chloe’s desk. A flash of triumphant glee was written all over her face.

I clenched my fists. Fortunately, I had already prepared a counterstrategy.