A contract is desperately needed for the company to close the deal on a project, so I head over to the administrative department to lodge a request for printing paper.

However, the administrative employee, Lydia Reed, slaps on an arrogant expression.

"In order to prevent bottom feeders like you from taking advantage of the company by stealing the company's resources, the company's rulebook has already stated that you must bring your own paper to work!"

I just point at the pile of boxes containing A4 paper behind Lydia before asking coldly, "Then who are those resources meant for?"

Lydia rolls her eyes at me. "Well, they are meant for people who truly are worthy of this company's resources, duh!

"You're just a meager project manager who keeps asking for money without making any contributions at all, so you can forget about getting your hands on anything that belongs to the company!"

I nod in return. After leaving the department, I dial a number.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cross. It seems that we shall not be participating in the 200-million-dollar bid after all."

I glanced at the clock in the bottom right corner of my screen. Less than two hours remained before the Gyrfalcon Project submission deadline.

The 300-page proposal on the screen represented three months of blood, sweat, and tears from my entire team.

As the thought crossed my mind, I instinctively dug my fingernails into my palms, leaving deep red marks. The office was empty, and the only sound present was the rhythmic clacking of my fingertips against the keyboard.

For this project, we'd been pulling all-nighters for a week straight. Last night, Jason Scott was pale from stomach pain, yet he pushed through until past midnight.

Earlier, I'd sent everyone home to rest and promised with full confidence that I'd handle the final wrap-up myself.

Now, it was just me and the cold words on the screen, while the sky beyond the window darkened by the minute.

"Done!"

When the final period fell into place, I checked every data point three times to make sure every number was flawlessly accurate.

A rush of heat shot straight to my head. This 200-million-dollar contract was ours for the taking!

I practically leaped out of my chair and slammed my knee into the desk, but I barely felt it. Grabbing the USB drive that stored all our work, I bolted out of the office like a madman.

In the administrative office, Lydia Reed was touching up her makeup with a compact mirror.

"Lydia! I need paper! It's an emergency!" I burst into the office and slammed the drive onto her desk.

After listening to my breathless explanation, she took her sweet time picking up a nail file and started working on her nails, not even bothering to look up.

"To stop you low-level staff from taking advantage and stealing company resources, there's been a policy for a while now that you have to bring your own paper. Wait? Did that memo not reach the employees of your grade yet?"

My temper flared. "B-Bring our own paper? This is the 200-million-dollar Gyrfalcon Project that has to be mailed by 6.00 pm tonight!"

She shrugged, looking utterly indifferent. "Whatever. We're out of paper."

I was shaking with rage as I pointed to the literal mountain of paper stacked behind her. "Aren't those papers?"

"Oh, they are," she said, standing up and crossing her arms.

After walking over to the stack, she intentionally patted a box. "But this is reserved for people who actually matter.

"Who do you think you are, Elliot Ward? You're at the bottom of the performance rankings, yet you have the nerve to demand resources."

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. Every word she spoke cut deep as she continued, "If I were you, with such a pathetic track record, I'd have quit out of shame by now. Just pack your bags, leave, and stop embarrassing yourself!"

She had no idea that my projects always ended up being credited to the CEO's brother-in-law.

Suddenly, my phone rang with a call from Jason.

"Elliot, did you send the files yet? The print shop says that if we don't get there soon, they can't finish the binding in time!"

There was noise in the background from our team anxiously discussing binding details.

My throat felt like something was stuck in it, and I could barely get a word out.

"You hear that? Your little grunts are desperate, so better figure out how to get your paper."

Lydia leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed and tapped her high heel against the floor. "It's not that I won't help, but I can't break company rules. And you…"

She dragged out the words, like a predator toying with its prey. "You're not important enough for me to break them."

With that, she picked up a stack of documents and fanned herself, the paper rustling loudly. "Honestly, you low-level managers are always asking for resources.

"200 million dollars? You make it sound like it's true, but try collecting payments from the last quarter before you start talking big."

I gripped the USB drive so tightly that the metal casing bit into my palm.

Memories from three months of sleepless nights and hard work flashed before my eyes—Walter Brooks revising plans on his laptop while sitting in a hospital waiting room, Claire Bennett's eyes red from crying over a single data error, and the pile of stomach medicine on Jason's desk…

I stormed out of the administrative office and headed straight for the CEO's office. With a kick, the heavy door slammed into the wall with a deafening crash.

The CEO, Dominic Thorne, jerked from fright and spilled coffee all over himself.

As I forced my anger down, I said, "Mr. Thorne, the admin says we have to bring our papers for printing. The Gyrfalcon Project's bidding deadline is tonight, and the proposal urgently needs printing… Are you going to do something about this or not?"

He was still rattled, but his expression darkened immediately. "Elliot, have you lost your mind? Rules are rules! I don't care if it's a 200-million-dollar deal or two billion; you follow my rules!"

I clenched my fists. "The nearest printing shop is over 13 miles away. There's no way we can make it in time!"

"That's a problem for you to solve," he said, regaining composure and taking a slow sip of the coffee. "As a project manager, you shouldn't lack such basic adaptability."

I looked at the half-smiling expression on his face and remembered Jason telling me that Dominic never wanted our team to have the Gyrfalcon Project. He wanted it for his brother-in-law and the sales director, Grant Sterling.

My eyes were red-rimmed as I dashed back to the administrative office and pleaded in a trembling voice, "Lydia… I'm begging you. Just think of it as a loan to me, alright? I'll pay you back double once the project bonus hits my bank account…"

She looked at me like I'd just told her the world's funniest joke. Leaning forward, she lowered her voice and replied, "Elliot, don't you get it yet? This isn't about papers."

She tapped her fingernails on the desk and smiled. "These are rules, and you… aren't important enough for me to break them."

Just then, my phone rang, and the caller ID "Harvey Cross from Deltis Group" started flashing on the screen.

I looked at Lydia's face, etched with contempt, then at the mountain of papers behind her, and thought of Dominic's arrogant face. A surge of searing heat rushed to my head.

After tapping on the answer button, I said in a terrifyingly calm voice, "Mr. Cross."

"Mr. Ward! Have you sent the file? All the judges are here, waiting for your proposal—"

"That 200-million-dollar contract," I interrupted and kept my eyes locked on Lydia as her expression froze. "We're pulling out."

There was a stunned cry from the other end of the line, but I'd already hung up.

The phone slipped from my hand and hit the marble floor with a sharp crack. The screen instantly shattered into fragments.

For a second, the entire office fell dead silent before Lydia bolted up from her chair like a cat whose tail had been stomped on.

"Elliot, have you lost your mind? That's a 200-million-dollar project, and you just walked away! Who gave you the nerve?"

She stormed around the desk, her high heels clicking aggressively until she was near and pointing fingers so close she nearly poked my face.

"You're just a low-level project manager, so don't flatter yourself! Believe me, I could have security throw you out right now!"

I bent down and slowly picked up my phone. The cracked screen reflected my distorted face.

"Are you deaf? Say something!" she snapped. Her chest heaved with rage, and her eyes shot daggers.

"Stop standing there like a statue! I'm telling you—you can't handle the fallout, so call Mr. Cross right now to tell him that it was a joke!"

When I remained unmoved, her voice turned shrill and mocking. "Oh, I get it now. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Are you using the project to threaten me just because I didn't give you paper? I never knew you were this childish, Elliot. This is pathetic!"

She circled me, looking me up and down with a sneer. "Before you throw a tantrum, at least know your place. What makes you think you're indispensable when the company works just fine without you? Let me tell you something—there are plenty of project managers out there like you!"

My phone started buzzing wildly again.

I stared back at Lydia, then suddenly laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" She flinched and let go of my arm like she'd been burned.

"I'm laughing at how pathetic you are," I said, enunciating each word. "You've spent so much time on your knees that you've forgotten how to stand up."

Trembling with rage, she raised her hand to slap me, but I caught her wrist midair and clenched it so hard she let out a sharp cry of pain.

"Let go! You loser! You're nothing without this company!" she shrieked.

On my phone screen, Jason's name kept flashing. The background was a happy photo of his family of three.

I could picture him and the rest of the team on the other end of the line, standing at the print shop and calling me over and over, waiting for the news of a hard-won victory.

Lydia noticed the caller ID, too. "Answer it! Why aren't you answering? Are you afraid of telling your team that you tanked their project out of spite, that you just cost them their jobs, and that their three months of work were for nothing?"

She stepped closer and lowered her voice to continue, "Take a good look at yourself, Elliot. You sold out your entire team for your pathetic little ego.

"How do you think they'll look at you when they find out their manager threw it all away over a pack of paper? Will they pity you or tear you apart?"

Her words twisted like a knife in my gut. She was right that I'd betrayed them.

But in the next second, the rage roared back, hotter than before.

I raised my head and locked eyes with her. "You're right. I'm a bastard."

Under her stunned gaze, I turned and delivered a brutal kick to the mountain of exclusive A4 paper boxes.

The boxes collapsed with a crash. Sheets of crisp white paper spilled out like an avalanche and buried half the administrative office.

Lydia screamed, her heel catching as she stumbled back and fell awkwardly into the pile.

In the middle of the paper storm, I bent down and picked up my phone with the cracked screen. Then, I looked at her pale face and said, "Here's your paper. Tell Mr. Thorne that I'm done serving in this dump."

With that, I returned to the project department, gripping my cracked phone. Lydia's words "you sold out your entire team" echoed in my mind.

The moment I opened the door, every pair of eyes in the room locked on me.

Jason was the first to rush over. "Elliot, the print shop—"

His words died in his throat as his eyes fell on my empty hands and the raw, dangerous expression on my face that they'd never seen before.

"Where's the proposal?" Walter abruptly stood up, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.

I opened my mouth. The words "we're pulling out" were heavy on my tongue, but I couldn't force them out.

Claire timidly asked, "Elliot… did something happen?"

When I looked at them, three months of grueling hard work came crashing over me all at once—the sleepless nights, the endless fights over revisions, and the red, exhausted eyes…

"The administrative office…" My throat tightened as I spat out the next words. "They wouldn't give us paper."

For a moment, there was dead silence before a snort came from the corner of the office, followed by murmurs rising like a tide.

"No paper? What bullshit excuse is that?"

"A 200-million-dollar project held down by a pack of paper? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Elliot, are you messing with us right now?"

Jason gawked at me in disbelief. "Did you pull out just because of a pack of paper? After three months of hard work…"

His words felt like a physical slap on my face.

Walter took a deep breath and clenched his fists so tight his knuckles paled. "Elliot, I know you took some heat, but you're the project manager, so you're responsible for the team. One decision you made threw away months of our work!"

"I—"

I wanted to explain that it wasn't just about paper; it was about dignity and being humiliated. But when I looked at the tired, anxious looks on their faces, the words stuck in my throat.