Chapter 11
One day, he thought, his eyes gleaming with quiet determination. That’s all I need.
Daniel entered the IT section, the door closing softly behind him. The hum of computers filled the air, the same monotonous drone he had grown used to. Ray was at his desk, typing furiously, his face twisted in a mask of stress and frustration. Graham and Joe were nowhere in sight — probably off on another one of their extended breaks.
Daniel settled into his chair, the familiar creak of the worn-out seat grounding him. He took a deep breath, his fingers resting lightly on the keyboard. The weight of the task he had taken on was nothing compared to the confidence he felt now. He could already see it — the flawless procurement portal, with every requested feature seamlessly integrated.
He closed his eyes briefly, the faint hum of the computer blending with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Focusing his thoughts, he let the energy surge through him, a controlled pulse of warmth flowing from his fingertips. The code, the design, the features — all of it took shape in his mind, crystal clear and perfect.
Make the portal flawless. Include everything Brian and Elaine asked for. Automated reports. Digital signing. User-friendly interface. Secure backend. Seamless navigation.
The warmth intensified, the computer screen flickering for a fraction of a second. When he opened his eyes, the procurement portal was there — complete, polished, and ready. The interface gleamed with intuitive design, each button and feature exactly where it needed to be. The automated reporting function was smooth, generating comprehensive reports in seconds. Digital signing worked effortlessly, eliminating the need for printed documents.
He clicked through each section, a thrill of satisfaction running through him. Everything worked perfectly. In less than five seconds, he had delivered what an entire team of external developers couldn’t promise in months.
He leaned back in his chair, a small, triumphant smile curving his lips. The portal wasn’t just functional; it was perfect. There was no doubt that this was the solution the company had been desperately searching for.
Ray, still lost in his own sea of problems, hadn’t noticed a thing. The irony wasn’t lost on Daniel. He had just revolutionized a core part of the company’s infrastructure while Ray hammered away at the keyboard, oblivious to the quiet brilliance happening right next to him.
They won’t know what hit them, Daniel thought. His moment was here, and he was ready to reveal just how valuable he truly was.
After what seemed like an eternity,the door to the IT section swung open, breaking the tense stillness. Joe and Graham strolled in, their voices loud and carefree, laughter trailing behind them like an unwelcome breeze. Graham slapped Joe on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear.
“SkateCoin’s at a hundred bucks, man! I told you we’d hit it big!” Graham’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
Joe chuckled, nodding. “We should’ve put in more — we’d be retiring already!”
They dropped into their chairs, still caught up in their celebration, the glow of success making them oblivious to the storm they were walking into. Their laughter echoed in the room, a sharp contrast to the quiet hum of computers and Ray’s frenzied typing.
Ray’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, the sound like a knife through the air. He turned to face them, his expression a mask of barely contained frustration. The lines on his face seemed deeper, his eyes hollow with exhaustion.
“Where have you two been?” Ray’s voice was tight, each word clipped and strained.
The room fell silent instantly. Joe’s smile faltered, and Graham’s eyes darted away, avoiding Ray’s glare. The carefree atmosphere evaporated, replaced by an awkward, suffocating tension.
“We were just…” Joe began, his voice trailing off weakly.
“Just what?” Ray snapped. “Laughing about SkateCoin while I’ve been drowning in your work? Because you two were gone most of the day, I had to do your jobs for you. Do you have any idea how much we’ve been dealing with?”
Joe and Graham exchanged uneasy glances, their shoulders slumping under the weight of Ray’s anger.
Ray took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His tone dropped lower, more controlled but no less threatening. “I’m warning you both — if this happens again, we’re going straight to Leo. And you know what that means.”
Their faces paled slightly. Even Graham, who usually shrugged off warnings, looked genuinely worried. The threat of a meeting with Leo — the one person who could shatter their complacency — was enough to send a cold wave of dread through them.
“Yes, Ray,” Joe mumbled, his eyes fixed on his desk.
“Won’t happen again,” Graham muttered, his fingers tapping nervously on the edge of his keyboard.
Ray didn’t respond. He just shook his head and sank back into his chair, the tension in his shoulders still visible. The room settled into an uneasy silence, the hum of computers louder than before.
Daniel watched the scene unfold, a quiet sense of satisfaction building inside him. The cracks in their little façade were widening. The golden boys, protected by favoritism and blind luck, were finally feeling the pressure.
Good, he thought. Let them squirm. Let them feel what it’s like to have the walls closing in.
He turned back to his screen, the completed procurement portal ready to go. The storm was brewing, and he was ready to make his move.
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The tension in the IT section was like a low, steady hum in the background — a constant reminder of the shifts happening beneath the surface. The frantic clatter of keyboards filled the silence as everyone buried themselves in their work. The air was thick with a mix of frustration, fear, and simmering uncertainty.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced behind his head. His computer screen glowed softly, the flawless procurement portal ready and waiting. He no longer felt the weight of expectation crushing down on him. He was no longer the default dumping ground for everyone else’s incompetence.
Ray sat at his desk, his shoulders stiff, his eyes glued to his monitor with a nervous intensity. The usual confidence in his posture was gone, replaced by an uneasy vigilance. He knew he couldn’t shove tasks onto Daniel without consequence anymore. Each task completed with Daniel’s speed and precision only highlighted Daniel’s skill — not Ray’s supposed leadership.
Daniel allowed a small smile to play on his lips. Ray’s trapped, he thought. The spotlight now shone on competence, and for once, it wasn’t on Ray. There were no more shadows to hide in, no more ways to offload his failures.
Thanks to this shift, Daniel found himself with the luxury of time. No more staying late to clean up messes. No more sacrificing his evenings for work that would never be acknowledged. He was free to do his tasks, finish them effortlessly, and then relax, guilt-free, as others struggled to keep up.
He watched Ray out of the corner of his eye, the man’s jaw tight with stress, the veins on his forehead subtly visible. The tables had turned, and Ray knew it. The pressure he once forced onto Daniel was now his own burden to bear.
Poetic justice, Daniel thought, his smile widening slightly.
He glanced around the room. Graham was hunched over his desk, subdued and quiet, the carefree arrogance replaced by wary focus. Joe fidgeted with his mouse, clearly on edge. The days of coasting through their responsibilities were over. They knew that any slip-up would draw Ray’s ire — and possibly Leo’s wrath — right onto them.
Meanwhile, Daniel sat with an ease that felt foreign yet wonderful. He had carved out his space, his value undeniable, his power quietly radiating beneath the surface. He no longer felt like a cog in a broken machine. He was the one turning the gears now, dictating the rhythm of his own work.
They thought they could keep me down, he mused, the satisfaction settling deep in his chest. But now, they’re the ones drowning.
The hum of the office continued, but for Daniel, it was just background noise. He had claimed his place, and there was no rush, no anxiety — just the calm of knowing that he was in control.
The quiet tension in the IT section shattered as the door swung open. Lucy Ford, Chief Director Michael's assistant, stepped in with a purposeful stride. She was a striking presence — early twenties, with a composed elegance that seemed to radiate confidence. Her sharp eyes scanned the room briefly before she headed straight to Ray's desk, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
Ray looked up, his face still etched with stress, as Lucy leaned down and whispered something urgent. The hushed conversation was quick, almost frantic, with Ray nodding several times, his expression darkening. The rest of the room watched in silence, curiosity and unease simmering beneath the surface.
Lucy straightened up, her professionalism never wavering. Without glancing at anyone else, she turned and walked briskly out of the room, her departure leaving a wake of anticipation hanging in the air.
Ray stood up, his chair scraping back noisily. He rubbed his temples for a moment, then looked around at everyone — Daniel, Joe, and Graham — his face pale and drawn.
“Everyone, come on,” Ray said, his voice strained. “Chief Director Michael wants to see us. Now.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with foreboding. Joe and Graham exchanged worried glances, their earlier bravado evaporating like mist. Daniel's eyes narrowed slightly. He could feel the weight of the moment, the sense that something significant was about to unfold.
Ray didn’t wait for anyone to respond. He turned on his heel and marched out of the room, his shoulders tense, his movements stiff. Joe and Graham scrambled to their feet, falling into line behind him with nervous energy.
Daniel took a steady breath, rising from his chair with deliberate calmness. Whatever this is, he thought, I’m ready.
As they walked down the corridor, the usual hum of office life seemed distant, muted. The echo of their footsteps filled the void, each step pulling them closer to whatever awaited behind Chief Director Michael’s door.
This wasn’t a routine meeting. They all knew it. And whatever was coming next would undoubtedly change everything.
The atmosphere in Chief Director Michael's office was suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken tension. The walls, lined with bookshelves and corporate awards, seemed to close in on the gathered group. Behind the imposing desk sat Chief Director Michael, his expression a cold mask of authority. The sunlight filtering through the large windows did nothing to soften the steely gaze in his eyes.
Seated before him were Leo, his usual arrogance stripped away and replaced with a palpable worry, Director Brian Ortega from Procurement, and Director Clayton Pierre from HR. The two directors sat with their backs straight, their expressions unreadable, the weight of the meeting pressing on them as much as it did everyone else.
The door clicked shut behind Daniel, Ray, Joe, and Graham as they entered. Office assistants hurriedly shuffled chairs into place, the scraping of metal legs against the floor loud in the otherwise silent room. Daniel took his seat, his eyes sweeping over the scene. Ray's face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He was fidgeting, his fingers twisting together under the table.
Daniel's gaze shifted to Leo. Despite being the highest-ranking person in the room aside from Chief Director Michael, Leo sat with his shoulders hunched, his jaw tight. His eyes darted around, the worry etched into his face betraying a man who knew he was standing on the edge of a precipice.
Once everyone was seated, Chief Director Michael leaned forward, his hands steepled together. His voice, when he spoke, was low and controlled, yet it carried the unmistakable weight of authority.
“There has been a noticeable decline in the performance of the IT section,” Michael began, his eyes cold and assessing. “Deadlines missed. Tasks incomplete. Miscommunication. This kind of inefficiency is unacceptable.”
His gaze snapped to Leo, the intensity making the room feel colder. “Leo, you were entrusted to oversee all departments. How did things deteriorate this far under your watch?”
Leo swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. He opened his mouth slightly, as if to respond, but no words came. He was trapped, the excuses he so often used now hollow and meaningless in the face of undeniable failure.
“You overlooked critical failures,” Chief Director Michael continued, his voice growing sharper. “You let this section falter, and now the entire company is feeling the consequences. How do you explain that?”
Leo’s face turned a shade paler, his lips pressing into a thin line. Silence stretched, heavy and damning. There was no defense to be made. No convenient scapegoat this time. The cracks had spread too far, and the spotlight of accountability was now firmly on him.
Ray stared down at his hands, the tremor in his fingers more pronounced. Joe and Graham exchanged nervous glances, realizing the gravity of the situation.
Daniel sat still, his expression composed. The vindication he felt simmered just below the surface, a quiet satisfaction that everything was finally falling apart for those who had mistreated and underestimated him. He didn’t need to say anything. The truth was unraveling on its own.