Chapter 8
Ray nodded stiffly, his shoulders hunched as if trying to protect himself from an invisible blow. His gaze was hollow, distant. Without another word, Leo turned and walked toward the door, Ray trailing behind him like a man walking to the gallows.
The door closed behind them with a soft click, the sound echoing in the silent room.
Daniel’s eyes lingered on the door, a strange sense of vindication swelling in his chest. The system that had once seemed impenetrable, stacked against him at every turn, was finally cracking. Ray’s authority, Leo’s favoritism — it was all unraveling.
They’re finally seeing the consequences of their choices.
He took a slow, measured breath, his mind already turning over the possibilities. The fallout was beginning, and soon, they’d all realize just how much they had relied on him.
But Daniel wasn’t done yet.
The meeting room exuded an air of elegance and authority, the vibrant plants and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee doing little to mask the underlying tension. The board of directors sat around the large conference table, their faces set in stern expressions. Chief Director Michael sat at the head, his eyes sharp and unwavering. Beside him were Leo and Ray, their expressions tight with apprehension.
The air was thick, charged with the weight of what was about to happen. Chief Director Michael cleared his throat, the sound slicing through the quiet like a blade.
“Today,” he began, his voice steady and commanding, “we are here to discuss the corrective action necessary in light of the recent failures within the IT section.” His gaze fell heavily on Ray, who sat rigid, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
“Ray,” Chief Director Michael continued, “your inability to manage the file server upgrade in a timely and effective manner has not gone unnoticed. This is a serious lapse in leadership.”
Clayton Pierre, the Director of HR, leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. “Before we consider demotion or termination,” he said in a measured tone, “there are procedural steps we can take. One of them is issuing a formal warning during this meeting. This allows for a chance at improvement while documenting the issue officially.”
Chief Director Michael nodded. He picked up a printed sheet from the table and began reading aloud, his voice cold and precise.
“Ray, this is your formal warning for failure to perform supervisory duties and effectively manage your team. Your inability to delegate tasks appropriately and ensure timely delivery has jeopardized operations. You are expected to address these deficiencies immediately, or further action will be taken.”
Ray’s face drained of color, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the reprimand. He knew there was no way around it. The humiliation settled deep, a cold knot in his stomach.
Just as Ray lowered his gaze, believing the worst was over, Chief Director Michael turned to Leo. The room tensed as Michael picked up another sheet. Leo’s eyes widened in disbelief, a flicker of panic breaking through his usually controlled facade.
“Leo Zam,” Michael began, his voice unwavering, “you are also receiving a formal warning.”
Leo’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists on the table.
“This warning is issued for actions that have contributed to a deterioration of employee morale,” Chief Director Michael continued. “Your favoritism, unjust treatment of staff, and failure to foster a productive working environment have significantly impacted the team’s efficiency and cohesion. This behavior is unacceptable for someone in a managerial role. Immediate improvement is expected, or further disciplinary action will follow.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Leo’s face flushed red, his mouth opening as if to protest, but no words came. The weight of the warning crushed any argument he might have had. He hadn’t anticipated this. He was used to skating by, wielding his authority unchecked. Now, the very system that had enabled him was turning against him.
Ray stared down at the polished table, his expression hollow. Leo’s eyes flicked around the room, searching for support and finding none. The board members’ faces were impassive, their judgment clear.
Chief Director Michael set the papers down with finality. “You both have your warnings. I suggest you take them seriously. This company will not tolerate continued mismanagement and toxicity.”
The words hung in the air, sealing the fate of Ray and Leo in a way neither had expected.
For the first time, the cracks in their authority were visible for all to see. The consequences they had always deflected onto others were now firmly at their feet. And the weight of their failures was theirs to bear alone.
Leo sat in his office, his hands steepled in front of his face, eyes staring blankly at the desktop monitor. The meeting’s echoes still rang in his ears, the sting of the warning like a hot brand on his pride. The words “deterioration of employee morale” gnawed at him, a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t shake the question looping through his mind:
Who reported me?
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. The idea of being snitched on burned. He went over every interaction, every tense conversation in the past few weeks. Had someone finally decided they’d had enough of his management style? Or was it someone from another section who overheard his tirades?
Could it have been Daniel? The thought lingered like a bad smell. Daniel — his personal punching bag. The one person Leo had always relied on to vent his frustrations, knowing that Daniel wouldn’t push back. Unlike the others, Daniel never stood up for himself. He just took the abuse, day after day, silently enduring. It was why Leo had always gravitated toward him when his patience frayed.
But now? Doubt crept into Leo’s thoughts. Maybe Daniel wasn’t as passive as he seemed. Maybe he had finally cracked and gone to HR. The very idea made Leo’s blood boil.
Him? The quiet, meek technician he had dismissed all this time? The thought bruised his ego. If Daniel had snitched, it meant Leo’s control over him was slipping. And that was unacceptable.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. He thought about his behavior, his favoritism toward Graham, his constant belittling of Daniel. He questioned himself — just briefly — about whether he’d gone too far. But the moment of introspection was fleeting, drowned by the need to maintain control.
I need someone to blame when things go wrong. Someone to absorb the heat.
Daniel was perfect for that role. The thought of apologizing, of making amends, curdled his stomach. He didn’t want to give up his outlet. But he knew his yelling, his biting remarks, had become too obvious. If others were starting to notice, it meant he needed to be more careful.
Maybe I take this outside the office, Leo thought, a cold calculation settling into his mind. Where no one can hear. Where I can keep the pressure on him without anyone getting in the way.
The idea gave him a twisted sense of relief. He didn’t have to change — he just had to adapt. Daniel could still be his punching bag, his outlet, as long as it was done discreetly.
Leo’s lips curled into a tight, humorless smile. You’re not getting off that easy, Daniel.
He leaned forward, the glow of the monitor casting shadows across his face. The warning from the Chief Director still stung, but Leo wasn’t ready to give up his control. Not yet.
If Daniel thinks he can slip away, he’s got another thing coming.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, the glow of his monitor reflecting the blocky landscapes of Minecraft videos. The soothing sounds of pickaxes chipping away at stone and cheerful commentary from the video creators helped mask the lingering tension in the office. It was the closest thing to peace he could find in this place.
Across the room, Joe and Graham were huddled together, their conversation animated and carefree. Their voices carried just enough for Daniel to catch snippets.
“...the new coin’s called SkateCoin, man. It’s gonna blow up!” Joe said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Yeah,” Graham chuckled, “I got in early. If this thing takes off, I’m cashing out and retiring on a beach somewhere.”
They both laughed, the sound ringing through the room like they didn’t have a single worry in the world.
Daniel’s fingers paused on his mouse, his eyes flicking over to the two of them. They seemed utterly detached from the reality of the situation — oblivious to the mess that had just unfolded, the warnings that had been handed down, and the potential consequences hanging over their heads.
Do they even care? he wondered, his brow furrowing slightly. Chief Director Michael had been furious. Ray had been humiliated. And yet, here were Joe and Graham, chatting away about cryptocurrencies as if nothing had happened.
Were they too dense to see the danger? Too confident in their ability to dodge responsibility? Or had they just never been held accountable for anything in their lives?
A bitter thought crept in. Maybe they know they’re protected. Graham, with Leo always shielding him. Joe, who coasted along in the shadows, never drawing attention. They were like driftwood in the current, floating aimlessly, untouched by the rocks and rapids that threatened to crush everyone else.
Daniel turned back to his Minecraft video, the bright, pixelated world a sharp contrast to the dull gray of the office. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Here he was, filling his time with virtual escapes because his real work — the work he could do in seconds with his powers — was thankless and unappreciated.
He clicked on another video, but the enjoyment was fading. The carefree laughter of Joe and Graham gnawed at the edges of his patience. How can they be so relaxed while the walls are closing in? Didn’t they realize that everything hung in the balance? A small misstep could cause catastrophe.
But maybe that was the difference. They didn’t have to care. They had safety nets.
Daniel’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have that luxury. He had survived on his skills, his endurance, and his willingness to do what others wouldn’t. And now, he was done carrying their weight.
The idea of leaving still burned brightly in his mind, but a new thought sparked alongside it: When I go, I’ll make sure the driftwood finally sinks.
With a steady breath, he leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly. The chaos was coming, and Joe and Graham’s laughter would be short-lived.
Ray trudged into the IT section, his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight, eyes hollow with exhaustion. The usual sternness in his expression was gone, replaced by something far more fragile — resignation and despair. He didn’t acknowledge anyone as he walked to his desk, each step seeming to sap more energy from his body. He sank into his chair, his eyes fixed blankly on his monitor, the screen’s glow reflecting his defeated expression.
Daniel watched quietly, the hum of his Minecraft video fading into the background. It was clear something had happened, something serious enough to leave Ray looking like a man who had already lost. The air around him seemed heavy, as if the very act of breathing was an effort.
Did they demote him? Daniel wondered, his fingers pausing mid-click. Or is he about to be fired?
The thought hung in the air like a storm cloud. Daniel knew the company’s policies well — termination wasn’t immediate. The process required that an employee receive at least a week’s notice, a formal document handed down from Human Resources, marking the countdown to their final day. If Ray had received that dreaded document, it explained the weight in his eyes, the slump of his shoulders.
Ray’s fingers hovered over his keyboard, trembling slightly before curling into fists on the desk. He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, as though trying to steady himself. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, filling the room with unspoken dread.
Graham and Joe, for once, were silent. Even they could sense the shift in the air, the fragile tension that threatened to crack. They exchanged glances but didn’t dare speak. The carefree chatter about SkateCoin was long forgotten.