Chapter 3

At 3:17 AM, my phone buzzed, jolting me awake.

The screen lit up, and it was the tech department's emergency line.

I hit decline. 'Not my problem,' I thought.

Then the texts started blowing up my phone, one after another.

[System alert! All services down!]

[Database connection timed out! Every front-end page is crashing!]

[The clients are freaking out! Call back ASAP!]

I flipped my phone over, screen down, and set it onto the nightstand.

And then I just went back to sleep.

My phone kept buzzing nonstop, annoying like a fly that just wouldn't quit.

I picked it up, fourteen missed calls.

Chris called six times, Carter three, Linda twice, and Merrick three times.

Merrick's last call was three minutes ago, so it was 3 PM over in Boston.

I stared at the screen for a moment.

Then I just set my phone to silent.

I tossed it back onto the nightstand, rolled over to face the wall, and pulled the blanket over my head.

When my alarm went off at seven, I woke up.

I picked up my phone, and spotted forty-seven missed calls.

Over ninety messages on WhatsApp, and the work group chat was blowing up with hundreds of messages.

I didn't bother checking them. I just washed my face, then headed to the kitchen to make some noodles.

I did make myself tomato and egg noodles. I cracked two eggs, chopped up a tomato.

Once the water was boiling, I tossed in the noodles, let them cook for three minutes, scooped them out, poured the broth over, and topped it with some chopped scallions.

I carried it to the table, sat down, and ate slowly.

Halfway through my noodles, my phone buzzed again.

Even with my phone on silent, the screen still lit up. I glanced at the screen and found it was Merrick calling.

I didn't answer.

After I finished eating, I washed the dishes, wiped the table, and poured myself another glass of water.

I sat down on the couch, opened my phone, and started reading through the messages one by one.

The earliest message in the work group chat was from Chris, the night shift guy, at 2:40 AM: [System migration hit a snag. Database sync is down, all services are crashing. We need to fix this ASAP.]

Carter jumped in: [Anyone got a way to reach him?]

Linda followed: [I've called him a bunch of times, but he's not picking up.]

Merrick sent a voice message. I hit play. The background was noisy, sounded like a hotel lobby. His voice was sharp and urgent: "Tell him to fix it, now! It's his system, he needs to deal with it!"

Someone replied: [Mr. Foster, he didn't come in today. Seems it was some issue with his ticket.]

The group chat went quiet for about ten minutes.

Then Merrick jumped in again: [Isn't everything in the docs? Just do what it says! Who can handle this system?]

Carter replied: [I checked the docs. If something goes wrong during migration, you gotta jump in with the backend key and fix it yourself. The key's not in the docs.]

Merrick: [So where's the key?]

Carter: [He has it.]

Another twenty minutes of silence.

Then the calls and messages came flooding in.

I finished scrolling through the chat and took a sip of water.

I switched to another app to check on the migration.

Thirty-one percent. Status: "Error—Interrupted. Waiting for manual intervention."

Basically, if nobody used the key to jump into the backend and reconnect the sync, the data would be stuck in limbo, and both the old and new systems would be dead in the water.

Everything the company did would be dead in the water.

I closed the app and set my phone down on the coffee table.

I got up, walked over to the window, and pulled the curtains open.

The sky was clear, sunlight streaming in, casting patches of light all over the floor.

I stood there for a moment, then glanced back at my phone on the coffee table.

The screen lit up again, it was Merrick calling.

I didn't pick it up.

I walked into the bedroom, opened the closet, and grabbed the white shirt I'd ironed a couple days back.

Today was the day for me onboarding at the new company, so I had to look presentable.

Got dressed, checked myself in the mirror, and fixed my collar.

Looking in the mirror, I actually looked pretty decent, no bags under my eyes, mouth just straight, not smiling, not tense, just chill.

Before heading out, I checked my phone. The latest message was a DM from Linda.

Linda: [Please, I'm begging you, just call me back, okay? Mr. Foster's freaking out, and the clients have already lost over ten million dollars.]

I read the message, locked my phone, stuffed it in my pocket, and walked out the door.

The door clicked shut behind me, barely making a sound.

The hallway was quiet.