Chapter 1

Ding!

My inbox flashed. A "message sent" notification popped up in my screen.

I frowned. I hadn't sent anything and was sitting at my desk, fixing a bug.

Then I opened the outbox, and found a resignation letter. My name at the bottom.

What the hell?

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Before I could even process it, every monitor started chiming. Notification after notification.

The company's Slack channel exploded.

Our CEO, Vance, dropped a laughing emoji in the main channel.

"Briar's just showing off her talent! Don't panic, people. I'll recall every resignation."

Garrett, the useless CFO who hadn't closed a deal in months, jumped in to suck up.

"Vance, my resignation went through too. Guess I'm out, huh?"

Vance fired back instantly. "Garrett, cut the crap. Even if this whole place walks, you're staying. Who else is gonna cover my ass at the investor dinner?"

It turns out that intern, Briar, wanted to flex her so-called "hacking skills" on TikTok.

So she exploited an admin loophole.

And mass-emailed a fake resignation letter under every employee's name.

Watching the banter, I figured I'd join the fun and wait for my recall notice.

My screen refreshed. My request wasn't recalled.

It was approved.

Out of a hundred employees, Vance pulled back ninety-nine resignations.

The only one he greenlit was mine, the woman who single-handedly maintained the core infrastructure.

So if Briar was the new "tech prodigy" and Garrett was his drinking buddy, then I, the corporate doormat who actually did the work, had outlived my usefulness.

Before I packed up, I opened my terminal and revoked the personal licensing protocol for Aegis, the independent AI I'd been letting whole company use for free.

A company-wide notification pinged: All resignations successfully recalled.

I scrolled to the bottom. Only mine showed the green "Approved" stamp.

HR Director Linda slammed my exit paperwork on my desk.

"Sloane, you're the only one who didn't get recalled. Shame, huh? Performance bonuses drop Friday. You won't be around to collect."

My stomach dropped. "Linda, please. That $200,000 is mine. My family needs that money for—"

She shrugged. "Hey, I just process the paperwork. You wanna beg? Go beg Vance. Maybe he'll throw his workhorse a bone."

I marched into Vance's office.

He was rolling a Cuban cigar between his fingers, and waved his assistant out the door.

"Vance, I need an explanation. Why was I the only one let go?"

He blew out a plume of smoke and gave me a lazy, condescending smile.

"Sloane, we need to make room for fresh blood. You're just too outdated."

He propped his Italian loafers up on the mahogany desk, smirking.

"But hey, I'll tear up your resignation if you really want that bonus. There's just a catch."

I forced the words out through gritted teeth. "What catch?"

Vance held up five fingers. "Demotion to L1. Intern-level pay. Say, sixty grand a year. Consider it a paid internship to get you back up to speed."

I froze. My ears were ringing.

"Sixty grand? When you begged me to co-found this company, you promised me equity."

Vance's face turned to ice. "That was then. The company's restructuring. Me keeping you on at all is a favor. Take it or leave it."

My palms were slick with sweat.

My phone buzzed. Children's Hospital.

Another invoice for my daughter Lily's cardiac care. $5,000 a day, minimum, and we were still waiting on a donor match.

Since my husband's unexpected death, I only have my daughter.

For that $200,000 that could save my little girl's life, I swallowed everything and nodded.

The second I stepped out, Vance clapped his hands and announced to the whole floor,

"Everyone, meet our new Tech Lead! Briar is stepping up, effective immediately!"

The bonus that should have been mine just landed in a nepo-baby intern's lap.

Garrett started the applause, shouting, "Briar's the future of NexCore! Take notes, people!"

A courier showed up with an obscene tower of coffe and artisanal pastries. The office erupted in cheers.

Briar pranced around handing out drinks.

When she got to me, she rattled an empty carrier in my face.

"Oops, Sloane. I didn't count you. Maybe hit the tap water fountain? Keep it intern-appropriate." She giggled.

Garrett chimed in, making a show of spitting on the carpet near my shoes. "Interns stay in their lane. You don't get lattes."

I picked up my laptop bag and walked into the supply closet they'd assigned me as a "workspace." Mold bloomed on the wall.

Three years ago, Vance and I hauled servers through a flooded parking lot in the middle of a Bay Area storm.

He swore we'd split the company fifty-fifty.

Now he was popping champagne for the girl who just took my job.

I wiped my face and started typing.

You want a prodigy? Fine. You don't get to keep my AI.

I opened the Aegis admin console and typed: Revoke all licenses. Effective upon separation.

I didn't say a word. I just watched the circus play out.

This place didn't deserve me.