My Best Friend Set Me Up at Work to Get Me Fired So She Could Take My Promotion

Kera and Sam were more than best friends; they were family. They built their careers together, side by side, until a promotion turned everything into a competition. When Kera is accused of theft, she thinks her life is over… until an unexpected secret is exposed. In the end, she learns that betrayal runs deep, but karma cuts deeper.

But no.

Instead, betrayal came with a smile. With a hug. With the promise of friendship.

My name is Kera. I’m twenty-eight years old, and everything I have now, I built from nothing.

I was left at an orphanage as a baby. There was no note, no explanation. Nothing. Just an abandoned girl who grew up bouncing between foster homes, learning that while people wanted to be nice, the only person she could truly rely on was herself.

That was until Sam.

We met when we were eight, two kids with no families, clinging to each other like lifelines. We learned to cook together, sneaking into the orphanage kitchen at night to steal peanut butter or test recipes that we saw on TV.

We dreamed of becoming chefs, of running our own restaurant someday.

“One day, Kera,” Sam said. “One day, we’ll have big kitchens and lots of money! And we can buy all the food we want.”

“I know,” I said, smiling.

And we worked for it, too.

We got into culinary school on scholarships and hopes. And, surprisingly, we graduated at the top of our class. We thrived on creativity and passion. On the days we felt like giving up, we pushed through. We pushed each other, and if we fell, we fell together.

“I’ll always be here, Sammy,” I told her one day after we ended up in the ER.

Sam had been too enthusiastic when chopping up herbs and had an incident with a knife.

Eventually, we landed jobs at one of the best restaurants in the city. We didn’t know how Lady Luck kept shining on us, but we were grateful that she did.

Side by side, Sam and I climbed the ranks, proving ourselves in the brutal, high-pressure world of professional kitchens.

So when the head chef position opened up, we were both the top candidates.

That day, after the announcement, Sam pulled me aside.

“No matter what happens, let’s not let this ruin our friendship, okay?” she said, squeezing my hand.

“Of course,” I said. “Nothing changes. But I am starving. Let’s get some food on our break. A greasy cheeseburger from that place down the road sounds like it would hit the spot.”

She smiled back, but there was something… off. A little too much relief in her voice, like she already knew how this would play out.

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s meet there. I have something to do first. A pharmacy run, you know.”

But I shouldn’t have ignored any of my feelings. The first worrying sign was when Sam didn’t meet me for lunch during our break. She just didn’t show up.

That evening, after the dinner service, I was cleaning up my station when our boss, Chef Reynard, stormed into the kitchen. His face was like stone, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine.

“I didn’t expect this from you, Kera!” he thundered. “I thought you were better…”

Silence fell. The entire staff froze, utensils clattering, conversations dying mid-sentence.

He turned to the room.

“Everyone, to the break room. Now!”

The weight of his words sank into my stomach like lead. Something was very, very wrong. What was Chef on about?

We filed in, confused, exchanging nervous glances. Chef Reynard stood at the front, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“This evening, during an inventory check, something was found,” he said. “Stolen black caviar. In Kera’s bag.”

I stopped breathing. I broke out into a sweat. I felt dizzy.

My bag?

My stomach twisted into a hundred knots.

“That’s impossible!” I gasped.

Chef Reynard didn’t react.

“I announced earlier today that I’d be doing an inspection. Someone’s been stealing from my kitchen.”

His eyes were sharp, scanning the room.

He held up a small glass jar of caviar, the kind we only used for high-end VIP guests who ordered top-shelf alcohol like it was absolutely nothing.

I stared at Chef’s hand, looking at the glass jar like it was a snake, waiting to strike.

“I didn’t take that,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I swear on my life, Chef. I would never… I would never jeopardize my position here!”

“Then, Kera, how did it end up in your bag?” His voice was calm but firm.

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I didn’t have an answer. I felt dizzy.

A sick feeling curdled in my gut.

Chef Reynard exhaled.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t fire you right now.”

I froze.

“Come, Kera. Tell me.”

Tears burned behind my eyes.

I looked around the room, at my coworkers, at the people I had worked beside for years. Some of them looked skeptical. Some looked outright disappointed.

She just sat there. Silent.

That’s when I knew.

She knew about the inspection. She was the one who did it. Her eyebrows were furrowed like they always were when she was up to something.

Chef Reynard had been on the phone earlier that morning, talking about the missing inventory, saying that he planned to check bags after our shift. But I hadn’t thought anything of it. There was no reason for me to.

But Sam had overheard. When we were changing into our uniform in the locker room she smacked my arm to make me stop talking so that she could hear what Chef was saying.

But… Sam? Would she really do that to me? Or was my imagination just running wild because the thought of me losing my job was so… close?

I felt the knife twist before I even knew it was there.

I stood up, my throat closing.

“I…” I couldn’t even get the words out.

“I should go…”

I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl into a ball and just cry for a few hours. My career, everything that I had worked so hard for, was over.

I turned toward the door, my heart shattering.

“Stop, Kera,” he said.

I turned back, blinking through tears.

Chef Reynard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ultraviolet flashlight.

The room went still again.

A ripple of murmurs swept through the staff.

He held the jar under the light, and sure enough, a faint, glowing mark was smeared along the lid.

“We started doing this a few years ago when we had another case of sticky fingers. One of our waiters was walking away with our caviar and bottles of champagne, ready to sell on the internet.”

His eyes met mine, and he almost smiled.

“Everyone, hands out. Now.”

One by one, we stretched our arms out as he held the light to them.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Dirty nails.

Nothing.

Then…

A faint glow appeared on someone’s fingertips.

That’s when the entire world tilted.

Sam.

The soft blue stain lit up on her skin, it was unmistakable. A choked sound left my throat. My best friend, my sister, sat there, caught red-handed.

Chef Reynard stared at her in disbelief.

“I need you to explain yourself,” Chef said.

“I… Chef…” Sam tried to say, her face drained of color.

Then, his voice hardened and his face darkened, anger taking over.

“You set her up? You set Kera up? You were willing to destroy her career for a promotion?”

Her mouth opened, desperate.

“Maybe someone else touched it before me… and I touched something they touched.”

Chef Reynard didn’t even blink.

“Just go, Sam.”

I watched her grasp for anything to save herself. But there was nothing.

I knew it.

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the tiles. Her eyes flicked to me, just for a second.

And in that second, I saw something that made my blood boil.

Sam didn’t think she’d get caught.

She wasn’t sorry. She was angry.

She stormed out, and just like that, she was gone.

The room was silent.

I was still shaking. I felt betrayed and hurt, heartache worse than I’d ever felt before.

“Kera,” Chef Reynard said.

“I meant what I said,” he continued. “I don’t tolerate thieves in my kitchen. And I couldn’t believe that it was you. I just… couldn’t. Let’s go to my office.”

We went to his office. I followed him quietly, my hands still shaking.

“Kera,” he said, sitting down. “I didn’t want to believe it because I had just drawn up something for you. But I need you to know that I don’t tolerate people who betray their own.”

A contract.

“You worked your butt off for this place, my girl,” he said. “I’ve noticed it from the beginning. And you’ve earned your spot as head chef.”

I took a deep breath.

“I had nothing to do with Sam’s actions,” I said. “Absolutely nothing.”

He smiled and held a pen out for me.

And I signed my name.

After my shift, I stopped at a food truck on my way home, trying to wrap my mind around everything. How was I going to go to our apartment and face Sam?

I had been saving over the years. Sam had not, wanting to spend everything on clothing and alcohol. I highly doubted she had any savings, or at least enough to get by until she got a new job.

But I shouldn’t have worried.

When I walked into our apartment, Jenna, our roommate, was sitting on the couch playing video games. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“She’s gone,” Jenna said, pausing the game.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

What the actual heck?

“Thanks, Jenna,” I said, flopping down on the couch next to her.

“What happened? She got fired? She quit?”

“How about I tell you tomorrow?” I asked. “I just want to get into bed.”

I was devastated, but I had never felt the way I had before. There was so much anger and hurt. Pain that demanded to be felt.

When Emily’s sister-in-law plans an elaborate potluck, she feels nothing but dread at the things that Jessica insists she take along. Trying to keep her budget in mind, Emily makes a casserole to take with, but Jessica dismisses it, and her. It’s only when karma steps in, that Jessica has no choice but to eat humble pie.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.