Chapter 1

"StellarTech CTO election, last item on the agenda," Richard Carter announced.

The projector cast two names side by side on the screen.

Alex Carter. Michael Grant.

I sat in the third seat on the left side of the long table, my laptop still open. The encryption protocol code I'd worked on until 4.AM last night was still on the screen, the cursor blinking.

I looked up and shot a glance across the table.

Michael was leaning back in his chair, his suit perfectly tailored, cufflinks catching the light. He was spinning a Montblanc pen slowly, like he was just enjoying himself.

"As usual, let's do a show of hands," Richard said.

He sat at the head of the table, his salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled, tapping his fingers on the table.

My father-in-law. The chairman of StellarTech.

"All those in favor of Alex continuing as CTO, raise your hands," Richard said.

Seven hands went up.

I counted twice. Seven votes. Last week, eleven people swore they'd back me—but now four votes are gone. Those four? They were either pretending to read documents or just staring at the table. Not a single one dared to look at me.

"All those in favor of Michael taking over as CTO, raise your hands," Richard said.

Nine hands went up.

Just one vote short.

The only sound in the room was the air conditioning.

Richard's eyes swept the room, lingering on the ones who still hadn't raised their hands.

"Anyone else want to vote?" he asked.

No one spoke.

I glanced to my right.

Emily sat there—my wife, and StellarTech's vice president. She wore a cream-colored suit, her hair neatly pinned up, her eyes glued to her phone.

She set her phone aside.

She looked up.

Our eyes met for a moment.

There was nothing in her eyes.

She raised her right hand, fingers pressed together, not even a hint of hesitation.

"I support Michael," she said.

Every word landed like a blow to my chest.

*****

I stared at her, my heart pounding. 'Emily, how could you?' Alex thought.

She wouldn't even look at me. All her attention was on Michael.

"Care to explain?" Richard asked.

"The company needs a new direction," Emily replied, her voice steady, almost like she was reciting from a slide deck. "I'm not denying Alex's technical skills, but he's too withdrawn. All he does is bury himself in code—he doesn't get the market, doesn't understand our users, and has no clue how to turn tech into dollars."

She paused.

"Over the past two years, our product updates have slowed to half their previous pace. Our market share dropped from 32% to 24%. That's no accident."

Some people nodded.

I wanted to speak up. 'This isn't on me—it's the sales team's mess.' Our rivals ripped off my algorithms, and we're still fighting that lawsuit. Just last month, I finished a new architecture that could cut our computing expenses by 50%.

But she kept going.

"Michael spent twelve years in Silicon Valley and led four successful projects. He knows how to turn technology into profit," Emily said.

Finally, she met my gaze.

Her eyes were icy, completely devoid of warmth.

"Alex, you're a good engineer. But you're not right for this position. What the company needs is a general who can lead the charge, not just a craftsman who only knows how to patch up the walls," she said.

Each word cut like a knife.

Michael smiled, leaning forward with his hands crossed on the table.

"Mr. Carter, I've always admired your technical skills," he said, his voice delivered with carefully measured humility. "But at this stage, the company needs someone who can see the bigger picture. Of course, if you're willing to stay, there's always the technical director spot—"

It was nothing but charity.

He was handing me charity in front of everyone—over twenty pairs of eyes watching.

Everyone was staring at me, waiting for my reaction.

I stayed silent.

I glanced down at the blinking cursor on my unfinished code.

I hit save.

Then I snapped my laptop shut.

"The results are in," Richard announced. "Michael, ten votes. Alex, seven votes. Michael takes over as CTO, effective immediately."

Not a single person clapped.

I packed my laptop into my bag, then my charger, pen, and notebook—one by one, taking my time.

Emily rose from her seat and walked straight over to Michael.

"Congratulations, Mr. Grant," she said.

"Thank you for your support, Ms. Carter," Michael replied.

He shook her hand, holding on for at least four seconds.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, stood up, and walked toward the door.

I didn't look back.

I pulled the door open.

Then I walked out.

The hallway was empty—just me. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky was darkening, and the city lights were coming on.

I stood there for a moment.

I could hear faint laughter drifting out from the conference room.

My phone screen lit up. The lock screen was a photo from three years ago, up on the company rooftop—Emily leaning on my shoulder, grinning ear to ear. That was the day we landed our first seven million dollar deal. She told me, "Honey, things are only going to get better from here."

I just stared at it for three seconds.

I locked the screen.

Then I headed for the elevator.