Chapter 4

The new company was in an office building on the west side of the city, with just twelve floors, nothing fancy, but the gray-and-white exterior looked spotless.

When I walked in a bit after nine, the girl at the front desk smiled and offered me a glass of water.

Violet from Human Resource Department was a woman in her early thirties, sharp and straight to the point.

"You signed the contract last week, so today's just about getting you set up in the system, fingerprint registration, and a company ID photo," she said.

I nodded.

She led me to my desk, a window seat on the fourth floor. There was a brand-new laptop and a box of business cards waiting for me.

My name was printed on the cards, with "Technical Director" right below.

I ran my finger along the edge of the card—felt solid, good quality paper.

Violet said, "Take your time putting your team together. No rush, the boss wants you to just get settled in during your first month."

"Got it," I replied.

After she left, I sat down at my desk, powered up the laptop, set a password, and installed a few of my go-to tools.

My phone was sitting on the desk, the screen kept lighting up.

I glanced at it, sixty-three missed calls.

I didn't even bother counting the WhatsApp messages; the notification bar was endless.

Carter was the last one to post in the group chat, at 8:45.

[Services have been down for over six hours. The client just sent an official letter, they want everything fixed within twenty-four hours, or they're coming after us for breach of contract.]

After that, nobody said a word.

I flipped my phone over, screen down, and kept installing software.

At 10:30, my phone buzzed with a text.

I picked it up and checked the message.

[Name your price. Whatever you want, just get the system back up.]

I stared at it for three seconds, then just closed the message.

Then I just got back to work, like it was any other day.

By eleven, another text popped up.

It was Merrick again.

[I know the ticket thing was my fault. I'm sorry. Come back, and everything, salary, perks, you name it—doubled.]

I didn't reply.

At 11:20, Linda texted me.

[Sam, I really messed up. Please don't hold it against Mr. Foster. The company can't manage without you.]

I stared at the name she typed for two seconds.

Yesterday at the airport, when she played the whole 'oops, forgot' routine, she sure didn't call me 'Bro'.

Back then, her eyes were full of amusement, like she was just waiting for the drama to unfold.

Didn't even bother replying, I just hit delete.

At 11:40, just as I was about to head downstairs for lunch, my phone rang with an unknown number.

I hesitated for a second, then picked up.

"It's me, Carter," he said.

His voice was heavy, and he sounded exhausted.

"I used a different number. Figured you'd blocked all of us," he said.

"Didn't block you. Just put everyone on silent," I replied.

"That's even more savage," he complained.

And then it was a wry chuckle on that end.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Seriously? You're asking me? Come on, you know exactly what's up," Carter replied.

I didn't say a word.

He sighed. "The migration's stuck at thirty-one percent. The database sync is down, so both the old and new systems are dead. The whole company's paralyzed. The tech team's been up all night, but nobody can get into the backend."

"Everything you need is in the docs," I said.

"But the key's not in there," he replied.

"I brought up key management three times, but Merrick just said it wasn't urgent," I replied.

There was a brief silence on the other end.

"I know," Carter said, his voice even quieter. "This isn't on you."

I leaned back in my chair, staring out the window.

"Carter, right before I walked out yesterday, I dropped my resignation letter on Merrick's desk," I said.

There was silence on the other end.

About ten seconds later, Carter finally broke the silence. "When did you write it?"

"Last week," I replied.

"So you'd already made up your mind to leave," he said.

"Yeah," I replied.

"So, was the system migration your way of getting back at them?" he asked.

"No. The migration window was set a year ago. This month was the best fit, tech-wise. I gave Merrick a heads-up two weeks ago, and he told me to do whatever I thought was best," I replied.

"That's true, I was right there when he said it," Carter added.

We both went quiet again.

Carter said, "The losses have already exceeded 200 million dollars, and they're still rising. We have three major client contracts pending. You know the SLA clauses in the contracts, if the service is down for more than twelve hours, we'll have to pay penalties."

"I know," I replied.

"You're really not going to do anything?" he asked.

I paused to think.

"Carter, you were the only one who didn't laugh at me these past three years, so that's why I answered your call. Honestly, I finished my resignation yesterday and started at my new job today. The system's not my problem anymore."

He was silent for a long time.

"Who actually signed off on your resignation? You left your letter on Merrick's desk, but he's in Boston and can't sign it. The whole process is stuck," he said.

"By law, once thirty days have passed after I send in my written notice, I'm officially out. I mailed my resignation by registered mail last Wednesday, the front desk signed for it on Thursday, and I've got the proof right here," I replied.

Carter took a deep breath on the other end of the line.

"Looks like you've got everything covered," he said.

"It's not like I had it all figured out. I didn't have a choice," I replied.

I paused.

"Carter, let Merrick know I emailed the system handover docs six months ago. None of you replied anything. I brought up setting up a key escrow three times, but no one cared. I kept copies of all those emails," I said.

"You're really leaving yourself no way out," he said.

"It's not me shutting the doors, it's them not caring," I replied.

After hanging up, I sat at my desk, zoning out for a while.

My new business cards were stacked neatly in a box on the desk. The sunlight hit them, making the white almost glare in my eyes.

I picked one up, flipped it over, the back was just empty.

I put it back, got up, and headed downstairs to grab some food.

There was a little noodle shop downstairs. Their beef noodles were eighteen dollars for each, and they really piled on the beef.

I grabbed a seat by the wall and took out my phone while waiting for my food.

The migration progress was still frozen at thirty-one percent, it was completely stuck.

Because I didn't interfere, it just stayed stuck.

It wouldn't progress, and it wouldn't revert on its own.

It was just frozen there like a blade hanging overhead, never dropping, never disappearing.