That battle made the company's name resound throughout the entire industry.
But what I remember most vividly was the drone project that later won an international award.
The original concept came from my graduate research—the core flight control algorithm and the dynamic path-planning model.
Those weren't born overnight. They were the product of countless nights I spent staring at endless lines of code and data, running simulations over and over, tweaking, refining, and polishing every variable.
The first crude demo was built and tested right in my living room.
You could say the soul and framework of that project were engraved with my name from the very beginning.
Through these battles, our company grew from a cramped office of barely a dozen people into a strong and respected force in the industry. Our technical capabilities soared.
And with that drone project, we not only won international recognition but also secured major contracts, pushing the company's valuation to new heights—right to the edge of going public.
The founder, Mr. Arnold Schmidt—Darlene's father—was a sharp and visionary man. He had always trusted and valued me deeply.
He gave me complete freedom in technical decisions, and in private, he would often pat me on the shoulder, half joking, half serious, saying to others, "If only Darlene were half as steady and capable as Harold. Honestly, I'd feel at ease handing both her and the company to him someday."
At that time, Darlene was still studying abroad, and everyone took his words as nothing more than a lighthearted remark.
But to me, his recognition and trust were a source of strength—they made every hardship worthwhile.
However, fate was cruel.
Mr. Schmidt passed away suddenly from illness. Darlene hurried back from overseas, armed with a few years of business and arts education, to take over the company.
At first, she was polite, even respectful—she sought my advice on major technical decisions. But gradually, things began to change.
She introduced a new style of management that emphasized attitude, dedication, and corporate culture, replacing the old pragmatic focus on technology and results.
Now, how pretty the presentation slides looked, whether the desk light was still on after hours, or how enthusiastically the employees joined team-building events—these superficial displays started to matter more to her than the tangible results that her father had once cared about.
I was too absorbed in the pursuit of technology itself to notice the shift at first.
Until the five million bonus incident hit—a thunderclap that finally woke me up.
Darlene didn't want a battlefield-tested technical leader. She wanted a "model employee" who fit her new philosophy of management. And Lester, with his polished words and carefully crafted humility, was exactly that.
After a month of rest, I started browsing job websites, updating my resume, and submitting applications to several leading tech firms.
With my background and skills, I thought finding a new position would be easy. But my applications vanished without a trace.
The few interviews I did get turned cold right after the technical round—vague promises, polite rejections, then silence.
After several setbacks, a former colleague finally told me the truth in private.
"Harold, it's not that your skills aren't good enough... Someone's been spreading rumors about you—saying you're arrogant, steal credit from interns, and even got violent."
"Now a lot of companies see you as toxic."
At that instant, I understood.
It was Darlene's doing. She hadn't just fired me—she'd cut off every path forward.
When my mother noticed the furrow in my brow deepening day after day, she gently pressed me for the reason—and I finally told her everything.
Her face turned pale with anger. She immediately stood up, ready to rush out the door. "I'm going to confront her! How can she slander you like that?"
I caught my mother's hand gently, pressing it down. "Mom, don't worry."
I looked out the window, my tone was calm and steady. "It's about time."
"Soon enough, she'll come to me on her own."
My mother gave me a puzzled look. Just as she was about to speak, my phone on the table rang sharply.
The caller ID flashed on the screen: Darlene Schmidt.
I pressed the answer button and put it on speaker.
"Harold?" Darlene's usual composure was gone, replaced by an edge of panic. "You need to come to Skyfeather Tech on the west side of the city—right now! It's urgent!"
"The drone program we sold them just malfunctioned during the final demonstration! The flight control system keeps failing intermittently, and the path-planning is completely scrambled!"
"The client is furious. We have to fix it today, no matter what!"
In the background, I could hear chaos—raised voices, arguments, the sound of panic spreading through a crowd.
I waited until she finished before speaking, my tone deliberately unhurried.
There wasn't a trace of emotion in my voice. "President Schmidt, I think you've called the wrong person."
"I already resigned. Any technical issues at the company should be handled by the one who won the five million bonus—Lester. I'm sure he's still working overtime every night, right?"
