Chapter 2

The cab got stuck in traffic on the beltway for forty minutes.

The driver tried to strike up a conversation, asking why I was coming back from the airport, and if my flight had been canceled or something.

I just nodded and responded, "Yeah."

He dropped it after that.

By the time I got home, it was nearly eight o'clock. I just tossed my suitcase by the door without even bothering to unpack, kicked off my shoes, and crashed onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

My head was just empty.

After a bit, I dragged myself to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and sat at the table, drinking it down.

Three years ago, on Merrick's very first day parachuting into the company, he stood up front at the all-hands meeting, gold cufflinks gleaming on his sleeves, flashing a broad, toothy smile.

"I'm not here to take anyone's job. I'm here to make the pie bigger for all of us," he said.

The whole room broke into applause.

I clapped too.

Back then, I was running the tech team, and had twelve people reporting to me. I built the company's core business system from the ground up. I could tell you where every single line of code lived, right down to the exact folder.

Merrick called me in for a chat during his first month on the job.

"Tech is the lifeblood of this company, and you're the backbone of the backbone. Trust me, I get just how crucial you are," he said.

I bought it.

The next month, he hired a Technical Director from other company, Carter, and put him in charge over me.

I went to talk to him, and he said, "Carter's got the management chops, you're the tech brains. We just play different roles, but you're still the heart of it all."

Yeah, I actually believed him. Again.

By the third month, he poached my three top team members for the brand-new Innovation Division, now they were reporting directly to him.

I went to talk to him again, and he just smiled and said, "The company's gotta grow. We can't put all our eggs in one basket, you know? Hope you understand."

By month four, then five, then six, my team just kept shrinking.

First there were twelve of us, then five, and finally just three left.

At project meetings, Merrick started having other people present my plans, including my work, but someone else was up there talking about it.

I'd sit in the corner of the conference room, watching every single slide I'd made, but the credit went to someone else.

At the year-end review, Merrick stood up on stage, reading off the list of star employees, eleven names, and mine wasn't one of them.

People in the audience kept sneaking glances at me, those looks I knew all too well, the kind you give when you're just waiting for someone to crash and burn, like it's entertainment.

I didn't say a word.

Half a year ago, I compiled a complete set of architecture documents for the core system and sent them to Merrick's work email, CC'ing Carter and Linda Brooks.

The subject line spelled it out: "Core System Handover Docs. Please Confirm."

Merrick never replied.

Carter replied with a simple "Got it."

Linda didn't bother to reply either.

I sent it again, but still, nobody bothered to reply.

That's when it hit me, I figured out that they didn't forget. They just didn't care.

They figured as long as the system docs were there, anyone could do my job.

Three months ago, a headhunter reached out to me.

It was a small company, but the deal was pretty sweet.

Sixty percent raise, lead tech role, and I could build my own team from scratch.

I didn't even think twice, I signed the offer that very night.

But I didn't hand in my resignation yet.

There was still one last thing I needed to wrap up.

The core system was due for a major version migration, something I'd planned out a year ago. All the migration scripts, keys, and rollback plans were in my hands.

I picked this month for the migration window.

This was honestly the smartest time to do it, tech-wise.

I'd given Merrick a heads-up two weeks in advance. He was just scrolling through his phone, didn't even look up, and just said, "Handle it however you want."

'Fine. If that's how you want it, I'll do it my way,' I thought.

When I tapped "Confirm" at the airport today, the migration kicked off.

For the next seventy-two hours, the system would be in transition, moving all the business data from the old setup to the new one.

Somebody had to babysit the whole thing.

If anything blew up, someone had to jump in with the key and fix things by hand.

And that someone? Yeah, only me.

Because I'm the only one who's got the key.

Back when I built the system, the company didn't even bother with a real key management process. Everything was just sitting under my personal account.

I asked about setting up a proper key vault three times, but Merrick just waved me off, saying, "No rush, just focus on the business."

'Fine, no rush then,' I thought.

I washed my glass, put it back on the shelf, then went to the bedroom and pulled the curtains shut.

I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and set my alarm for seven in the morning.

Before I lay down, I checked the screen one last time, the migration progress bar was at two percent.

Everything was running smoothly.

I turned off the lights, closed my eyes, and was out cold in three minutes.

For the first time in three years, I slept soundly, no worries, no stress, just real rest.