Chapter 3 · I Quit, Then Made Millions

But I bet on Serena pulling me in.

The end of the year was our busiest season. Three massive projects were launching in December.

Without me, this department couldn't even scrape together a weekly progress report.

I was right.

At 4 PM on November 13th, Serena sent me a message. [Nina, come to my office at 10 AM tomorrow for a chat.]

I didn't reply.

I just took that resignation letter out of my bag, unfolded it, folded it back in half, and placed it right in the middle of my desk.

November 14th, 9:58 AM.

I stood outside Serena's office and knocked twice.

"Come in," she called.

She wore a camel cashmere sweater today, her hair cascading down her shoulders. A fresh cup of coffee sat on her desk, steam rising from the white ceramic.

"Take a seat, Nina." She smiled and flipped a document face down on her desk.

I saw what it was. A contract renewal.

"As you know, your contract expires the day after tomorrow." Serena interlaced her fingers and leaned back in her chair. "I already spoke with HR.

"We're renewing you for another three years. As for compensation..."

I didn't let her finish.

I pulled the neatly folded paper from my pocket and slid it across the desk.

Serena glanced down at it.

"A resignation letter?" Her smile dropped. "Nina, what is this?"

"Serena, I've thought it through," I replied.

I sat perfectly straight. My voice was much steadier than I expected. "It's been three years. It's time for me to move on."

Serena tapped her fingers on the desk twice. Her nervous tell. "Did someone poach you?"

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Then why?" She leaned forward. "You're doing great here. I'm always putting in a good word for you with upper management."

"Sixteen hundred dollars," I interrupted her. "Three years, and I make 1,600 every month."

The office fell completely silent.

A subtle shift flashed across Serena's face. It wasn't guilt. It was the discomfort of being called out.

She said, "Nina, I've explained the salary situation to you before. You know how the company's compensation structure works."

"I do." I stood up. "Which is why I'm choosing to leave. My contract expires the day after tomorrow. The timing is perfect."

"Just think about it. Let me fight for you with HR. We can bump you up to 2,100."

"That's not necessary."

I turned and walked toward the door.

I turned and walked toward the door. "Nina."

I looked back.

Serena was standing now. The friendly facade was gone, replaced by a deadly serious expression I had never seen from her before.

"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked. "We have three projects launching at the end of the year. If you walk out now, it's going to screw over the whole team."

"That's not my problem anymore," I said.

I opened the door and walked out.

In the hallway, Maya was walking by with a latte. She saw me leaving Serena's office and casually asked, "What were you guys chatting about?"

"My resignation," I replied.

Maya nearly dropped her coffee. "Wait, what did you just say?"

I ignored her, walked back to my desk, and started cleaning out my drawers.

Over three years, I hadn't accumulated much in this cubicle. Two chewed-up pens, a calculator, a few printed industry reports, and a stack of sticky notes covered in frantic late-night memos.

Ten minutes later, my phone started buzzing.

Maya sent a message to the department group chat. [Is Nina seriously leaving?]

Sophie: [Wait, for real?]

Aria: [No way, right before year-end?]

Lauren: [Then who's writing the brief for the Urban City project? The first draft is due on Friday.]

Julian Hayes stayed quiet.

Serena didn't appear in the chat either.

Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. It was Serena.

I muted it.

*****

At 2 PM, a new message popped up in the main company Slack channel.

It was from HR.

[Please be advised that Nina Townsend from Brand Ops will not be renewing her contract.

[Her final day is November 15th. All relevant departments, please prepare for the handover.]

A single, dry sentence. Like announcing a software update.

The main channel barely reacted.

To most people here, I was just the silent Operations Specialist in Brand Ops. I basically didn't exist.

But our internal department chat was absolutely blowing up.

Sophie: [Serena, can we delay Nina's departure? The timeline for Urban City is literally impossible without her.]

Lauren: [It's not just Urban City. All the prep work for next month's Spring Breeze campaign is sitting on her desk.]

Maya: [Who the hell is pulling all the data reports when she's gone?]

Serena finally replied: [Everyone chill. I'll handle it.]

Five minutes later, she showed up at my desk.

"Nina, a word," she said.

I followed her into the small conference room at the end of the hall.

The moment the door clicked shut, Serena's composed demeanor shattered. "Do you honestly think I screwed you over?"

I just looked at her, not saying a word.

She continued, "You've been here for three years, and I spent that entire time mentoring you. I gave you projects. I gave you opportunities to learn.

"What other director in this industry mentors a rookie like that?"

"You weren't mentoring a rookie," I said calmly. "You were exploiting free labor."

Serena turned pale. "Excuse me?"

Chapter 3

But I bet on Serena pulling me in.

The end of the year was our busiest season. Three massive projects were launching in December.

Without me, this department couldn't even scrape together a weekly progress report.

I was right.

At 4 PM on November 13th, Serena sent me a message. [Nina, come to my office at 10 AM tomorrow for a chat.]

I didn't reply.

I just took that resignation letter out of my bag, unfolded it, folded it back in half, and placed it right in the middle of my desk.

November 14th, 9:58 AM.

I stood outside Serena's office and knocked twice.

"Come in," she called.

She wore a camel cashmere sweater today, her hair cascading down her shoulders. A fresh cup of coffee sat on her desk, steam rising from the white ceramic.

"Take a seat, Nina." She smiled and flipped a document face down on her desk.

I saw what it was. A contract renewal.

"As you know, your contract expires the day after tomorrow." Serena interlaced her fingers and leaned back in her chair. "I already spoke with HR.

"We're renewing you for another three years. As for compensation..."

I didn't let her finish.

I pulled the neatly folded paper from my pocket and slid it across the desk.

Serena glanced down at it.

"A resignation letter?" Her smile dropped. "Nina, what is this?"

"Serena, I've thought it through," I replied.

I sat perfectly straight. My voice was much steadier than I expected. "It's been three years. It's time for me to move on."

Serena tapped her fingers on the desk twice. Her nervous tell. "Did someone poach you?"

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Then why?" She leaned forward. "You're doing great here. I'm always putting in a good word for you with upper management."

"Sixteen hundred dollars," I interrupted her. "Three years, and I make 1,600 every month."

The office fell completely silent.

A subtle shift flashed across Serena's face. It wasn't guilt. It was the discomfort of being called out.

She said, "Nina, I've explained the salary situation to you before. You know how the company's compensation structure works."

"I do." I stood up. "Which is why I'm choosing to leave. My contract expires the day after tomorrow. The timing is perfect."

"Just think about it. Let me fight for you with HR. We can bump you up to 2,100."

"That's not necessary."

I turned and walked toward the door.

I turned and walked toward the door. "Nina."

I looked back.

Serena was standing now. The friendly facade was gone, replaced by a deadly serious expression I had never seen from her before.

"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked. "We have three projects launching at the end of the year. If you walk out now, it's going to screw over the whole team."

"That's not my problem anymore," I said.

I opened the door and walked out.

In the hallway, Maya was walking by with a latte. She saw me leaving Serena's office and casually asked, "What were you guys chatting about?"

"My resignation," I replied.

Maya nearly dropped her coffee. "Wait, what did you just say?"

I ignored her, walked back to my desk, and started cleaning out my drawers.

Over three years, I hadn't accumulated much in this cubicle. Two chewed-up pens, a calculator, a few printed industry reports, and a stack of sticky notes covered in frantic late-night memos.

Ten minutes later, my phone started buzzing.

Maya sent a message to the department group chat. [Is Nina seriously leaving?]

Sophie: [Wait, for real?]

Aria: [No way, right before year-end?]

Lauren: [Then who's writing the brief for the Urban City project? The first draft is due on Friday.]

Julian Hayes stayed quiet.

Serena didn't appear in the chat either.

Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. It was Serena.

I muted it.

*****

At 2 PM, a new message popped up in the main company Slack channel.

It was from HR.

[Please be advised that Nina Townsend from Brand Ops will not be renewing her contract.

[Her final day is November 15th. All relevant departments, please prepare for the handover.]

A single, dry sentence. Like announcing a software update.

The main channel barely reacted.

To most people here, I was just the silent Operations Specialist in Brand Ops. I basically didn't exist.

But our internal department chat was absolutely blowing up.

Sophie: [Serena, can we delay Nina's departure? The timeline for Urban City is literally impossible without her.]

Lauren: [It's not just Urban City. All the prep work for next month's Spring Breeze campaign is sitting on her desk.]

Maya: [Who the hell is pulling all the data reports when she's gone?]

Serena finally replied: [Everyone chill. I'll handle it.]

Five minutes later, she showed up at my desk.

"Nina, a word," she said.

I followed her into the small conference room at the end of the hall.

The moment the door clicked shut, Serena's composed demeanor shattered. "Do you honestly think I screwed you over?"

I just looked at her, not saying a word.

She continued, "You've been here for three years, and I spent that entire time mentoring you. I gave you projects. I gave you opportunities to learn.

"What other director in this industry mentors a rookie like that?"

"You weren't mentoring a rookie," I said calmly. "You were exploiting free labor."

Serena turned pale. "Excuse me?"