I couldn't say no to my fiancée, Olympia Fox. She wanted to work at the company, so I gave her a position as my secretary.

Then she posted a string of photos on social media—photos of me "slacking off" at work.

The caption read:

"Honestly, I don't get it. Miles Gilbert pulls the highest salary in the company and he's constantly showing up late and ducking out early. When he IS at his desk, he's either binging shows or playing video games. I'm his secretary and all I can do is sit there and watch."

"Does nobody actually have to work here?"

"Back where I'm from, taking someone's money and not doing your job is the kind of thing that gets you talked about for years. He has zero shame—and he told me not to tell anyone!"

The post sat quietly for a while. Then the CEO, Thomas Delgado, left the first comment: "This needs a full investigation. We're dealing with this."

Olympia's stunt caught me completely off guard. But it was Thomas's words that set off alarm bells.

The company's IPO was right around the corner. Was he really trying to push me out now, of all times?

But he might have forgotten something. When we first built this company, we cut costs by running the entire business on systems I'd designed from scratch. Not only did I hold the copyright—I was the only person who maintained them.

...

The comment section exploded.

Right below Thomas's reply, Olympia posted a follow-up—a long one.

"Mr. Delgado is absolutely right! I ran the numbers. This past month, Miles didn't show up until 9:30 every single morning and left by 4 in the afternoon."

"His lunch break is two hours, like clockwork. Then he takes a half-hour afternoon coffee break."

"He even disappears to the bathroom for thirty minutes at a time. I'm starting to wonder if he falls asleep in there."

"And when he IS at his desk? It's movies or video games. His actual productive work time? Less than an hour a day!"

Beneath that, coworkers piled on.

"I've been sick of him for ages. Just because he's been here since day one, he thinks he can coast."

"Exactly. The rest of us are killing ourselves while he collects the biggest paycheck and does nothing."

"This guy has no business being our CTO!"

"I stand with Secretary Fox! I stand with Mr. Delgado! Get this parasite out of the company!"

I stared at the screen. Something cold settled in my chest.

Olympia and I were getting married next month. We'd been inseparable—she'd told me she couldn't stand being apart from me, not even for a few hours. That was why I'd brought her on as my secretary.

I never imagined she'd walk through the door and immediately start tearing me apart. It was like she'd become a completely different person.

And Thomas—Thomas was my oldest friend.

Ten years ago, we'd been crammed together in a studio apartment barely two hundred square feet.

He used to say that with his business instincts, he was destined for greatness. Bezos, Zuckerberg—they'd all have to watch their backs. The only thing holding him back was capital. Without money, none of it could get off the ground.

I believed him.

I quit my job without a second thought. Then I took every dollar I'd saved over years of working—a hundred thousand, everything I had—and handed it all to him.

He'd been so fired up that day. He made me a promise: give him ten years. If the company hadn't gone public in a decade, if he couldn't even pay back my initial investment, he'd walk away with nothing. The whole company would be mine.

We'd weathered countless storms over the years. Through all of it, I held onto one belief—as long as we stood together, there wasn't an obstacle we couldn't overcome.

Was he really going to cut me loose right before the IPO?

While my mind was still racing, my phone rang.

It was Thomas.

"Miles. My office. Now."

His voice was so cold he didn't even sound like the Thomas I knew.

I walked into the office.

Olympia was standing beside Thomas, adjusting his tie with an easy familiarity that made my stomach turn.

Thomas cleared his throat.

"Miles, you've seen what's going around on social media. It's not a good look."

"I know you've made enormous contributions, but that's exactly why you can't be the one setting a bad example by breaking the rules. What would our investors think of us?"

"And yes, we're brothers, but that's all the more reason I can't play favorites."

I looked at him and said nothing.

He faltered for a moment, then quickly composed himself.

"Here's what we'll do." Thomas rapped his knuckles on the desk. "Effective today, your duties as CTO are suspended."

"I'm going to have Olympia step in as acting replacement, overseeing all technical operations. Your office will be reassigned to her."

I nodded.

"Sure. Whatever you say."

That had been our unspoken agreement for the past ten years. No matter how unreasonable his demands, I'd say yes, then put my head down and make it happen. Even when things went sideways, I never complained.

He smiled and waved me off, same as always.

I thought this was just another one of those times.

But as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

"Oh, one more thing. The backend admin credentials for the system. Go ahead and hand those over too."

I froze mid-step. My hand hovered over the door handle. I stood there for what felt like an eternity before I slowly turned back. The smile on my face tasted like ash.

"Sure."

I walked out of his office without another word.

My composure seemed to catch Thomas off guard.

He'd expected anger. Pushback.

But I gave him neither.

Because I knew that if he'd truly made up his mind to push me out, no amount of arguing would change a thing.

He wanted my office? He could have it.

He wanted my admin access? Done.

He wanted Olympia to take over my role? I didn't raise a single objection.

But now I was curious. I wanted to see how far this ship of theirs would sail without me at the helm.

By the next morning, I'd officially become the most "idle" person in the entire company.

My workstation had been moved to a corner. My computer was confiscated. All that remained on the desk was a single sheet of paper and a pen.

They called it "suspension pending self-reflection."

At ten o'clock, every member of senior management was summoned to the conference room.

The agenda: A formal hearing on the workplace conduct of Miles Gilbert.

I was seated at the very end of the table.

Olympia, meanwhile, sat right beside the boss, looking like she owned the place.

She pulled up a presentation and began.

A Quantitative Assessment of Losses Caused by Former CTO Miles Gilbert's Negligent Work Performance.

"According to attendance records, Mr. Gilbert has accumulated 1,689 instances of tardiness and 1,525 instances of early departure over the past ten years, totaling 2,857 hours."

"Calculated against his hourly rate, this constitutes unearned compensation and should be returned in full."

"Additionally, based on an incomplete review of security footage, Mr. Gilbert spent an average of over four hours per workday engaged in non-work activities, including gaming and streaming videos."

"We consider this time to also constitute fraudulent collection of company wages."

Her voice echoed through the conference room.

"After a thorough audit by the finance department, the total salary, bonuses, and subsidies that Mr. Gilbert owes the company over the past decade amounts to seven hundred and forty-six thousand, three hundred dollars."

She slapped an itemized bill down in front of me.

"Furthermore, we have yet to calculate the total cost of company water and electricity you've consumed over the years. The company reserves the right to pursue those claims separately."

I looked at the bill and laughed.

They'd really done their homework.

They'd practically counted every cup of coffee I'd ever poured myself in the break room.

"Miles." Thomas spoke up, his face a portrait of anguished reluctance. "It's not that I don't want to help you. You're my brother. But the evidence is overwhelming, and you know the company has its policies."

Olympia walked over and leaned down, her voice low enough that only the two of them could hear.

"Miles, don't blame me. I'm doing this for your own good. You have no idea how pathetic you've looked lately. It breaks my heart to see you like this."

Her tone was as gentle as ever.

"I know you're hurting, but you can't keep coasting on past accomplishments forever. Once you pull yourself together, things can go back to the way they were between us."

Miles lifted his head. Even now, even after everything, she was still putting on an act.

"You're stepping in as acting CTO. Can you even handle the day-to-day system maintenance?"

Olympia straightened up and shot him a look of disdain, her voice rising so the whole room could hear.

"Miles, honestly, this is exactly why you'll never be more than a worker bee. You really think this company can't function without you?"

"You think this little system of yours actually needs a senior executive to babysit it?"

She turned toward Thomas.

"Mr. Delgado outsourced it to a top-tier team ages ago. Professional work should be handled by professionals. A man with his vision isn't about to get tunnel vision over code and tech the way you do."

Thomas, meanwhile, was staring at the sliver of collarbone exposed above Olympia's blouse, his eyes greedy and unsubtle.

A chorus of agreement rippled through the conference room.

Miles glanced at the two of them, then picked up the pen and signed the penalty agreement.

"The money. Fine. I'll pay it."

He walked out of the conference room and made two phone calls.

The first was to his attorney.

"Jack Lambert, I need you to start preparing litigation materials."

The second was to his accountant.

"Rudolph Chavez, I need you to run some numbers for me."

"Calculate this: a company that used a privately developed business system, free of charge, for ten years. That system generated hundreds of millions in revenue for the company."

"How much should the system's owner charge in copyright licensing fees?"

On the third day, Miles was stopped at the front entrance of the building.

His badge wouldn't open the turnstile.

The security guard looked at him with an apologetic wince. "Mr. Gilbert, I'm sorry. Orders from above. You're not allowed inside."

Miles was reaching for his phone when Olympia emerged from the lobby.

She was wearing a brand-new Chanel suit, her makeup flawless, practically glowing.

"Miles, why are you still showing up to the office?"

She walked up to him, a note of reproach in her voice.

"Oh, right, I forgot to notify you. You're on suspension. You're not permitted to enter the office premises."

"The tech team the company hired is about to take over the systems, and frankly, I'm worried you might tamper with something out of spite. So for the time being, you can't go in."

Miles looked at her.

She glanced at him, then at the security guard, and something seemed to occur to her. She covered her mouth and laughed.

"You know what? Standing out here like this, you actually look like you'd make a pretty good security guard."

"You love slacking off, don't you? Well, this is the perfect job for you. Nice and easy, no thinking required. Just stand around, watch the door. It's practically tailor-made."

She turned to the guard beside her and asked for a spare uniform, then tossed it at Miles's feet.

"There you go. Put it on. The investment bank handling our IPO is sending people tomorrow for pre-listing due diligence. Behave yourself. Don't embarrass us."

Miles looked at the uniform on the ground. He didn't move.

Olympia didn't seem satisfied.

She pulled out her phone, aimed it at him and the crumpled uniform at his feet, and snapped a photo.

Then, right in front of him, she posted it to social media.

The caption read:

"The right person for the right job. Hopefully some people can finally figure out where they belong."

Miles watched her silhouette disappear behind the glass doors. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the uniform.