Chapter 4

After lunch, I went to find Sarah in the back bedroom.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes red and puffy. When she heard me walk in, she immediately turned her head toward the window.

"I'm sorry," I said softly.

"What do you mean, sorry?" She stared out into the yard. "You should be apologizing to yourself."

"Three whole years, Jack. What do you actually know how to do besides write code?"

Her voice trembled, thick with repressed frustration. "People steal your promotions, and you don't make a peep."

"The company cuts your bonus, and you just take it lying down."

"Now my parents and my own brother look down on you like you're a joke."

"Do you have any idea how utterly humiliating this is for me?"

I stood rooted behind her, opening my mouth to explain.

Yet the words died in my throat once again.

Sarah pushed herself up from the mattress. "I need some space. Just get out."

I turned and walked out of the room.

The hallway felt drafty and cold. I leaned against the wall and lit another cigarette.

Outside, a car pulled away from the curb. I could still hear Tyler laughing in the living room.

The smoke took me back to the day I signed my performance and retention agreement early last year.

Miller had gripped my shoulder firmly, beaming: "Jack, put everything into this. The company will take care of you, I swear it."

Turns out, his definition of 'taking care of me' was vastly different from mine.

I snuffed out the ember and walked back into the living room.

Tyler was still boasting to his father about his shiny new Audi, going on and on about the interest rates and maintenance packages.

My mother-in-law was scrubbing dishes. When she spotted me, she looked like she wanted to say something, but stayed quiet.

I tucked myself into the far corner of the couch, pulled out my phone, and scrolled aimlessly.

I scrolled past the weekend photos without taking any of them in.

All those cutting remarks kept looping in my head:

"Why are you always such a pushover?"

"What's the point of grinding your life away behind a screen?"

"A grown man needs some real ambition."

I locked the screen, leaned my head back against the cushion, and closed my eyes.

Something in me had started to change.

By the time we got back to our apartment, night had fallen completely.

Sarah didn't say a single word the entire drive. The second we walked through the door, she headed straight into the bedroom, leaving me alone in the dark living room.

I didn't bother turning on the lights. Streetlights filtered through the blinds, casting striped, elongated shadows across the hardwood floor.

My phone vibrated a few times. It was the company group chat.

Mark had dropped a photo: a sun-drenched beach in Hawaii, crystal-clear water, and women in bikinis lounging under umbrellas.

His caption read: "This is how real PTO is spent."

Underneath was a flood of heart reactions and envious comments from team leads.

I stared at that photo for a long time, then quietly hit 'Leave Group'.

I stood up, walked into the home office, and booted up my desktop.

Finance had given team leads read-only access to the year-end bonus reconciliation. I opened the link they'd sent us.

The worksheet showed the contract figure first, then the adjustments management had made before calculating payouts.

Contractual Bonus Base: $42,000,000.

Management Adjustments: $28,000,000.

Management-Adjusted Profit Used for Bonuses: $14,000,000.

I clicked the adjustments line to see how management had arrived at that figure.

Executive Year-End Bonuses: $12,000,000.

Consulting Fees: $8,000,000.

Team Building & Retreats: $6,000,000.

Miscellaneous: $2,000,000.

I stared at that twelve-million-dollar executive pool, scrolling down the recipient list until a familiar name flashed before my eyes:

Mark Davis.

$800,000.

Mark had been paid the exact amount my agreement promised me.