“‘What did you just do?!’ Sterling aggressively screamed, his face turning completely pale white as exactly three stern committee executives violently surrounded the large custom presentation table.
‘I warned you, Sterling,’ I whispered coldly, watching the massive chairman aggressively pull my terrified, incredibly arrogant boss directly away from his expensive $100,000 prize check.

But to deeply understand exactly why the heavy corporate executives were aggressively executing a massive copyright lawsuit on my completely smug boss, you absolutely need to deeply understand the three years of brutal, exhausting sacrifice that perfectly came before it.
I was the exact one who paid for Sterling’s massive luxury gallery years ago. When I first started at the studio, Sterling was absolutely obsessed with living a sprawling, high-society corporate life. But his actual artistic skills were completely empty.

I worked exactly 80 brutal hours a week as a senior assistant just so I could completely preserve our studio’s reputation while he attended parties. I completely lost my entire ability to enjoy normal weekends.

I vividly remember reviewing my incredibly complex lighting setups every single Sunday night until my back violently ached. I always bought his favorite coffees, deliberately and quietly enduring the suffocating, freezing morning hours alone in the mountains while I perfected every single ounce of my professional technique to capture massive wildlife shots. I poured my absolute entire soul, my secret resilience, and my absolute sanity into building my completely secure artistic foundation from the ground up.

When my massive wildlife series finally officially aligned, I was incredibly, genuinely thrilled. The absolute greatest comfort was my thick, black external hard drive. I proudly spent exactly $500 worth of pristine, custom digital storage to organize my brilliant art. It was my ultimate trophy. It perfectly and beautifully represented all my hard work, my late nights of brutal freezing cold, and my pure genius. I kept the heavy, black hard drive perfectly protected on my studio desk.

But Sterling completely and fundamentally resented my quiet brilliance. He started acting incredibly hostile when his own projects failed. He constantly complained about my late hours and dedication.

“You’re always hovering over that stupid, massive screen, Maya,” he would cruelly complain, rolling his eyes in absolute disgust while standing by my small desk. “You’re completely obsessed with your pathetic, junior busywork while I do real art.”