Chapter 1

Three days after I got forced out at work, the company incurred a loss of 500 million dollars.

The founder panicked and called me in the middle of the night. "What happened to the mid east deal? Get your ass back here and fix it!"

I picked my ear and asked lazily, "Sorry. Who are you?"

He exploded, shouting, "I'm the founder of the group!"

"Oh," I laughed. "But your CEO said I wasn't competent and fired me. If you've got a problem, take it up with him."

Then I hung up.

*****

My phone buzzed on the table, twitching like a dying bug.

The caller ID flashed an unfamiliar number, but it was local.

I ignored it, letting it ring on.

The ringing stopped for a moment, then started up again, just as persistent.

On the third ring, I finally picked up.

The yelling on the other end nearly blew out my eardrums.

I held the phone away and rubbed my ear.

Listening to Daniel Jenkins, the man who called himself the "founder", throwing a fit over the phone, I almost laughed.

His voice sounded so far away, like a relic from last century.

I hung up without a fuss, tapped the screen, and sent his number straight to the blacklist.

The world went quiet at once.

Outside, the city's neon lights cut through the night, throwing cold, sharp lines across my cramped rented apartment.

The air still lingered with the smell of cheap food.

That was what kept me alive these last three days.

I stared at the black screen of my phone, my expressionless face reflected back at me.

There was not a trace of anger or sadness.

The scene three days ago kept looping in my head, like a slow-motion movie.

It was a sunny afternoon, and we were in the company's biggest conference room, with spotless floor-to-ceiling windows.

Brandon Jenkins, the new CEO and Daniel's only son, was up front by the projector, ranting about his management theories with that show-off accent he picked up overseas.

He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his hair slicked back, giving everyone that look like he was born better than the rest of us.

He said, "Our company needs a fierce spirit, fresh blood, and we have to keep up with the international pace."

As he spoke, his gaze landed squarely on me, making it clear I was the target. "Some employees are stuck in their ways, not up to the task, and can't keep up with the company's growth."

The room went dead silent. Everyone held their breath.

I sat at the far end of the long conference table, watching him put on his show.

He added, "So, after careful consideration from the management team, we've decided to 'optimize' our human resources."

Brandon even made "layoff" sound so trendy.

"Caryl Hughes." He finally said my name, his voice cold and final, like a judge handing down a death sentence. "You're fired."

I could feel dozens of eyes lock onto me in an instant.

Some looked at me with pity, some with shock, and a few with smug satisfaction.

I saw Arthur Ross standing next to Brandon. Arthur had climbed the ladder by kissing up to everyone. He couldn't hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

He was practically gloating, basking in his victory as he looked at me.

I didn't argue.

I stood up, met Brandon's gaze, and said, "Alright, Mr. Jenkins."

My calmness seemed to throw him off. He'd prepared a lot of speeches and now couldn't say them, and it pissed him off.

"I hope you understand this is for the good of the company," he tacked on, all fake concern.

I nodded, didn't say another word, and walked out of the conference room.

I did the handoff right at my desk.

Arthur stood over me like a supervisor, rushing me to get all the files together.

When he spotted the folder for the mid east project, he snorted, "What's with all the fuss? It's just a client, right?"

He grabbed the folder and flipped through it casually. "Don't worry, Caryl. Although you couldn't pull it off, I sure can."

He said it with his chin raised, full of smug superiority.

I didn't bother responding to his taunt. I bundled up every document, spreadsheet, and bit of data I could hand over from my computer and sent it his way.

All that was just the bare bones of the project, the kind of stuff anyone with a login could dig up.

The real heart and soul was the three years of personal trust I'd built with Jared Torres, knowing what his family liked, our shared obsession with some niche topic, and the late-night video calls to troubleshoot problems. All that unspoken trust couldn't be put on a spreadsheet. They remained in my mind.

Those, I took with me.

My coworkers watched from a distance. Not one of them was brave enough to say a word to me.

They looked like a bunch of sheep, scared silent by some invisible lash.

I walked out of the office building I'd poured my days and nights into, hugging a cardboard box stuffed with three years of my youth.

I glanced back at the company logo, catching the last golden rays of the sunset, and felt absolutely nothing.

This place was no longer part of my story.