"Transfer the core algorithm demo access to Sloane."
Damon's voice cut through the hum of the boardroom projector, flat and absolute.
I stared at him from the far end of the mahogany table. The lines of code glowing on the massive screen behind him mocked me.
"Excuse me?" I asked. My fingers froze over my laptop keyboard.
"You heard me, Maya," Damon said. He leaned his knuckles against the polished wood, his tailored suit shifting with the movement. "Sloane is taking over the presentation for the investors tomorrow. She needs the master keycard."
I shifted my gaze to Sloane. She sat two chairs down, a smug smile playing on her glossed lips. She tapped a manicured nail against her coffee cup.
"It's just for the demo, Maya," Sloane chimed in, her voice laced with false sympathy. "Damon thinks a fresh face will secure the funding."
"A fresh face?" I repeated, the words burning my throat. "I wrote that architecture. I built the entire backend."
"And we appreciate your hard work," Sloane said. She stood up, smoothing down her designer skirt. "But Damon is right. You look exhausted. Go home to your baby. Let us handle the heavy lifting."
"This isn't heavy lifting, Sloane. This is theft."
"Watch your tone," Damon snapped. His jaw tightened as he finally made eye contact with me. "I am the CEO. I make the calls. You will hand over the access right now."
"Ten days," I said, keeping my voice level despite the tremor in my chest. "I have been on maternity leave for exactly ten days. I wrote those algorithms while holding a newborn, bleeding, and running on zero sleep. I missed my son's first pediatrician appointment because you called me in a panic, begging for a patch update. Every single line on that screen is mine."
"And you are an employee of this company," Damon countered. He didn't even blink. "Which means your work belongs to me. To us. The investors want a seamless pitch. You are distracted. You are emotional."
"I am emotional because you are stripping me of my project!" I stood up. The heavy leather chair scraped loudly against the floor. "I delivered the beta version three weeks ahead of schedule. You promised me I would lead this pitch."
"Plans change," Damon said. "Hand over the card, Maya. Don't make this ugly."
He wasn't just my boss. He was the man who had sat in my living room a year ago, swearing we would build this tech empire together. Now, he stood at the head of the table, flanked by the woman who spent more time in his private office than at her own desk, systematically erasing my name from my own creation.
I dropped my hands to my sides. My fingernails bit hard into the soft flesh of my palms. Sharp pain flared as the skin broke. Warm dampness pooled against my skin. Half-moon indentations bled quietly into my grip.
"You're giving my project to her," I stated.
"I am reassigning company resources," Damon replied. "Hand over the card. Or I'll have IT bypass your credentials and lock you out entirely."
The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. The other executives in the room stared at their notepads, refusing to look at me. They knew exactly what was happening. A hostile takeover, right out in the open.
I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat. Arguing with him here would get me nowhere. He had the authority to lock me out of the servers right now. If I lost access, I lost everything.
I sat back down. My hands trembled slightly as I unzipped my leather briefcase.
"Fine," I said.
"Smart choice," Damon muttered. He turned his attention back to the tablet in front of him.
I reached inside the dark interior of my bag. My fingertips brushed against a thick, stiff manila envelope. Inside sat the unsubmitted intellectual property ownership confirmation. The patent forms. The Schedule A addendum. The documents Damon thought our corporate lawyers had already filed under the company's name.
They hadn't.
Due to a clerical error last week, the legal team had sent the final drafts to me for review. They were sitting right here, in my bag. The patents were still unassigned.
I traced the sharp edge of the paper. Let him have the demo. Let Sloane parade my work in front of the investors tomorrow. They had no idea what was actually sitting in my lap. Once I mailed these forms to the registry with my name on them, the core algorithm would legally belong to me, not the company.
I bypassed the envelope and grabbed the thick black lanyard. The master keycard dangled at the end of it.
I pulled it out and tossed it across the table. It slid across the polished mahogany and stopped right in front of Sloane.
"There's your access," I said.
Sloane snatched it up eagerly. Her eyes gleamed as she examined the gold chip embedded in the black plastic.
"Thank you, Maya," she said, clipping it to her silk blouse. "Don't worry. I'll make sure to mention you in the footnotes."
"Just make sure you don't crash the system," I replied coldly. "You don't know how to troubleshoot the neural network."
"I'll figure it out," Sloane dismissed me with a wave of her hand.
Damon nodded, clearly satisfied with the transaction. "Meeting adjourned. Sloane, stay behind. We need to run through the opening slides."
The other executives practically scrambled out of their chairs, packing their things quickly, eager to escape the tension. I kept my laptop open. I needed to run a final backup of my local files before Damon could make good on his threat to involve IT.
Sloane walked over to my end of the table. She leaned over my shoulder, pretending to inspect the code on my screen.
"You really should get some rest," she whispered. Her voice dropped so Damon couldn't hear. "You look terrible. Motherhood clearly isn't agreeing with you."
"Back off," I warned, hitting the save shortcut.
"I'm just looking out for you," Sloane smirked. "Damon needs someone sharp by his side. Someone who doesn't smell like baby formula."
I turned my head, glaring directly into her eyes. "You can take the presentation, Sloane. But you will never understand the math behind it. When the investors start asking technical questions, you're going to drown."
Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Then, her eyes hardened.
"We'll see about that," she murmured.
She reached across my workspace, extending her arm toward a stray pen near my mousepad. As she pulled her arm back, her elbow caught the side of the large ceramic mug sitting next to my machine.
Scalding brown liquid launched through the air.
It splashed directly across my keyboard, seeping instantly into the vents.
A sharp crackle hissed from the motherboard, and the glowing code on my screen went pitch black.
