Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. Months. Months she'd poured over this data, crafting algorithms, building models. And here, staring back at her on Daniel’s screen, was the exact same damn thing. The exact same charts. The exact same conclusions. She slammed her laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the sterile office. “Daniel,” she bit out, her voice tight. “Care to explain this?”

He looked up, a startled expression on his face. “Amelia? Hey, didn’t see you there. What’s up?” He gestured vaguely at his screen. "Oh, the market analysis? Yeah, it's coming along nicely."

Amelia's fingers itched with the urge to throw something. She squeezed her hands into tight fists, nails digging into her palms. “Nicely? Your ‘nicely’ is identical to mine! The numbers, the projections, everything! How is this even possible?”