Chapter 7

Ray's voice cut through the tense silence like a whip. “Daniel, I need you to find quotations for extra hard disks. We need them now.” His tone was sharp, the pressure of the Chief Director’s deadline weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Daniel didn’t even look up from his screen. He let out a small, deliberate sigh, his fingers tapping absently on the keyboard. “Sorry, Ray, can’t right now. I’m working on an evaluation that just came in from another department.” His voice was dismissive, laced with a hint of defiance.

Ray’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing. “Which department?”

Daniel finally turned his head slightly, his gaze calm but steely. “Does it matter?” he replied, his voice even. “You should ask Graham or Joe. They seem to have so much free time — enough to spend half their day out of the office, apparently.”

A flush of anger crept up Ray’s neck, his jaw tightening. For a moment, Daniel thought he might lash out, demand compliance, or reprimand him on the spot. But instead, Ray took a deep breath, his fingers white-knuckling the edge of his desk. His eyes flicked to his phone, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

Without another word, Ray pulled out his phone and jabbed at the screen, his teeth clenched. He pressed it to his ear, the tension in his shoulders radiating off him like heat.

“Graham,” Ray barked, his voice low and strained. “I need you to go to a few tech stores and bring me back quotations for extra hard disks. I need this now.” A pause. “I don’t care what you’re doing, just get it done. Come back as soon as you have them.”

Ray hung up with a sharp tap, shoving the phone back into his pocket. His expression was a storm of irritation and resignation. He didn’t even glance at Daniel, who had already turned back to his screen, a small smirk ghosting across his lips.

Good, Daniel thought, a cool satisfaction settling in his chest. Let them scramble for once. Let them feel the pressure they’ve piled onto me all this time.

He resumed his pretense of working, eyes focused on nothing in particular. The weight that had been on his shoulders was now on someone else’s, and it felt right. He wasn’t their errand boy anymore. He wasn’t going to clean up their messes while they lavished praise on the real slackers.

Ray sat heavily in his chair, his face pinched with stress. The sound of keys clacking filled the space between them, but the tension was palpable, a silent acknowledgment that the balance of power was beginning to shift.

And Daniel? He was just getting started.

The days passed by quickly and before Daniel knew it, it was the last day of the deadline that Chief Director Michael had given them.

The tension in the IT section was suffocating. As Daniel stepped into the room, the atmosphere weighed down on him like a storm cloud ready to burst. Ray’s brow was furrowed, sweat glistening at his temples. Joe stared blankly at his screen, panic creeping into his eyes. Graham was pacing nervously, his usual nonchalance nowhere to be found. The sound of rapid typing and hushed, frustrated whispers filled the space.

Daniel slid into his chair, his movements calm and deliberate. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong — it was written on their faces. The deadline for the storage upgrade was here, and they were no closer to a solution than they had been a week ago. The repeated failures to get proper quotations had backed them into a corner, and now the walls were closing in.

He watched with cold detachment as Ray clutched his forehead, staring at his monitor with a hopeless expression. Graham muttered curses under his breath, scrolling through a list of suppliers, his fingers trembling. Joe drummed his fingers nervously on his desk, completely out of ideas.

Then the door slammed open.

Chief Director Michael strode in, his face contorted with fury, his eyes blazing. The room fell into a heavy silence. The air seemed to freeze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Michael’s voice thundered, the walls almost vibrating with the force of his anger. “It’s been nearly a week! I asked for a simple upgrade, and you still haven’t delivered. What are you all doing?”

Ray shot up from his seat, his voice shaky. “Sir, we’ve been trying, but the quotations we received—”

“I don’t want excuses!” Chief Director Michael snapped, his glare sweeping over the section. “I want results! This is embarrassing. An entire IT section that can’t handle a straightforward task? I’m beginning to wonder why we even have this department.”

Ray visibly flinched, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the rebuke. Joe kept his eyes glued to his screen, unable to look up. Graham’s jaw tightened, his face pale.

Daniel took a slow breath, the familiar rush of adrenaline and satisfaction surging through him. This is it. The perfect moment. He rose from his chair, his expression composed, his voice calm and steady.

“I can have it done in less than an hour.”

The words hung in the air, slicing through the tension like a knife. All eyes turned to him — Ray, Joe, Graham, and finally, Chief Director Michael. Michael’s eyes narrowed, suspicion and desperation battling in his gaze.

“You’re saying you can complete the upgrade in less than an hour?” Michael’s voice was low, almost dangerous.

“Yes, sir,” Daniel replied confidently, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I just need access to the server room.”

Stolen story; please report.

Michael’s eyes bored into him for a long moment, searching for any sign of hesitation or deceit. Finding none, he nodded sharply. “Fine. You have one hour. If you can do it, you’ll save this department from a lot of fallout. If not...” He let the implication hang in the air.

Daniel didn’t wait for further instructions. He grabbed his toolkit and headed toward the server room, his heart pounding with controlled intensity. The plan he’d been crafting was finally in motion. This was his moment to prove — not to them, but to himself — that he was the keystone holding everything together.

As he entered the server room, the cold air wrapped around him like a cloak. He placed his hand on the server rack, closed his eyes, and focused.

Double the storage. Make it flawless. Make it fast.

That familiar warmth surged through his fingertips, a pulse of energy that felt like liquid confidence. The hum of the servers grew louder, the lights flickering in a brief, synchronized dance. He could feel the upgrade taking shape, the storage capacity expanding seamlessly, effortlessly.

When he opened his eyes, the diagnostics screen showed the numbers he wanted: Storage Capacity: 32 TB. It had doubled the storage capacity as he wanted.

A smile tugged at his lips. He printed out the report and headed back to the section, his footsteps measured and sure.

The room was dead silent when he entered, the weight of expectation suffocating. He handed the printed report to Chief Director Michael, who snatched it up and scanned it quickly.

Michael’s eyes widened slightly, the anger fading into stunned disbelief. He looked up, his voice terse but grudgingly respectful. “It’s done.”

Ray, Joe, and Graham stared at Daniel, their expressions a mix of awe, confusion, and something else — something that looked suspiciously like regret.

Chief Director Michael nodded slowly. “Good work, Daniel.” He turned to the rest of the section, his voice cold. “This is what I expect from all of you. Figure out why it took one man to accomplish what the rest of you couldn’t.”

Without another word, Michael strode out of the room, the door closing behind him with a decisive thud.

Daniel settled back into his chair, the quiet satisfaction of vindication blooming in his chest. The looks on their faces were priceless — the dawning realization that they were in over their heads without him.

You needed me. You just didn’t know it until now.

But it was too late. His decision was made. They could regret it all they wanted, but soon, he’d be gone — and they’d be left to pick up the pieces.

As the tension in the room began to fade, everyone settled back into their chairs, the hum of computers slowly filling the silence. Graham turned to Daniel, his expression unusually sincere.

“Hey, thanks, man,” Graham said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really saved us there.”

Daniel met Graham’s eyes, a faint smile on his lips. “You’re welcome.”

The words were simple, but there was an undercurrent of meaning — a subtle reminder that Daniel had been the one to step up, yet again, when no one else could.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting over the room. Joe was focused on his screen, avoiding eye contact. Graham was back to his usual relaxed posture, the urgency of the past week already forgotten. But it was Ray who caught his attention.

Ray’s fingers drummed anxiously on his desk, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the monitor. His jaw was tight, his brow creased with lines of worry. He looked like a man teetering on the edge of a steep drop.

Daniel narrowed his eyes slightly, curiosity prickling at the edges of his thoughts. Why does he still look so stressed? The task was complete. Chief Director Michael had his storage upgrade. The crisis was over.

But then, a realization dawned on him, sharp and clear.

Ray’s worried about his position.

It clicked into place like a puzzle piece. Ray was the supervisor, the one who was supposed to manage the section, delegate tasks, and ensure everything ran smoothly. But he hadn’t been able to deliver. When the pressure mounted, it was Daniel who had stepped up, Daniel who had succeeded where Ray — and the rest of them — had failed.

Ray’s stress wasn’t about the task itself; it was about the power dynamics. His position of authority was now in question. The higher-ups had seen Daniel shine while Ray stumbled. If this kept happening, it wouldn’t be long before people started asking whether Ray was fit to lead.

Daniel’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. The tables were turning. For so long, Ray had relied on him, dumping responsibilities on his shoulders while taking credit for the team’s success. But now, the cracks in Ray’s leadership were visible, and Daniel was the one standing in the light.

A sense of satisfaction settled in his chest. They’re starting to see it. The system that had overlooked him, dismissed him, and used him was now starting to unravel. Ray’s stress was proof of that.

But Daniel didn’t feel pity. This was the consequence of their actions, the result of their refusal to recognize his worth. He had earned his place through hard work, resilience, and now, his newfound abilities.

He glanced at Ray one last time, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

This is just the beginning.

Daniel turned back to his screen, his confidence unshakeable. He knew his time here was limited, but until he left, he would continue to show them exactly who he was — and make sure they regretted ever underestimating him.

Not even a moment had passed when the door swung open again, and Leo walked in, his face a strange mixture of relief and stress. His eyes darted quickly around the room before settling on Ray. The atmosphere grew heavy, the tension palpable.

“Ray,” Leo said, his voice tight, “a word.”

Ray’s face paled slightly, but he nodded and followed Leo toward a corner of the room, away from the others. Their voices dropped to a murmur, too low to hear clearly. Daniel leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the exchange. He couldn’t make out most of it, but a few words slipped through the veil of secrecy.

“Demoting…”

“Firing…”

The words sent a ripple of cold through Daniel’s chest. He glanced at Ray, whose face had gone rigid, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. Whatever Leo was telling him, it wasn’t good. The weight of failure was bearing down on Ray now, a consequence he never expected to face.

His leadership’s under fire, Daniel thought, the pieces falling together. Ray hadn’t been able to manage the task. His reliance on Daniel, his inability to delegate effectively to Graham and Joe, and the near disaster with Chief Director Michael — it was all coming back to haunt him.

Leo’s face was set, his jaw tight as he continued speaking. The relief in his expression was probably from the task finally being completed, but the stress was something deeper — perhaps knowing he had to clean up the mess left by his favored team. The weight of maintaining appearances, of managing the fallout, was clear in his eyes.