I found the missing envelope exactly where I expected it to be.
Sloane's corner office smelled heavily of vanilla perfume. I marched past her empty leather chair and stopped at the glass desk. My manila folder lay flat next to a stack of fashion magazines.
Someone had pulled the patent drafts out.
A half-empty cup of iced matcha rested directly on top of the title page. A dark, wet ring stained the thick parchment. Beneath the condensation, a thick red marker line slashed straight through my printed name.
"Maya Cole" was violently crossed out. "Sloane Davis" was scribbled above it in jagged cursive.
Three years ago, during our Series A roadshow, the investors demanded a foolproof security architecture. I spent fourteen days sleeping on a yoga mat under my desk. I scrapped and rewrote the backend twenty times to secure this exact patent. My bleeding fingers and sleep-deprived hallucinations built the foundation of this company.
Now, my life's work served as a coaster.
I grabbed the wet cup and shoved it aside. The ice rattled loudly against the plastic.
"Leave the paperwork on the desk."
Damon stood in the doorway. He held a sleek silver tablet against his side. His tie was loosened, but his posture remained rigid.
"You stole my drafts," I said, holding up the stained page. "You actually let her cross my name out with a red marker."
"I relocated company property," Damon corrected, stepping into the room. The door clicked shut behind him. "Sloane needed to review the technical specs for tomorrow. The patent office sent the final digital confirmation ten minutes ago."
He raised the tablet. The screen displayed the official government registry portal.
"I need your authorization code to finalize the transfer," he said. "Type it in."
"No." I dropped the stained paper back onto the glass desk. "I am the primary inventor. I will not erase myself so your new favorite toy can play genius."
"Sloane is the face of this launch."
"She doesn't know the difference between a firewall and a router!" I shouted. "You are handing her a loaded gun."
"I am handing her a completed product," Damon shot back. He closed the distance between us, tossing the silver tablet onto the desk. It slid and hit the wet spot left by the cup. "We are restructuring. Your role is shifting to maintenance. Sloane takes the spotlight. Give me the authorization code."
"I will drag this company into litigation," I warned, staring directly into his cold eyes. "I will call the investors right now and tell them exactly who wrote the code they are buying."
Damon didn't yell. He didn't even flinch. He just tilted his head, studying me like a bug under glass.
"Go ahead," he said quietly. "Call them. But before you do, you should know I just reviewed the quarterly budget for the engineering department."
A cold knot formed in my stomach. "The budget is locked until January."
"I am the CEO. I unlock it whenever I want," Damon said. He leaned his hands on the glass surface. "If you refuse to sign over the patent, I will instantly cut the department's discretionary funds. Starting with the premium health insurance tier."
My throat went entirely dry.
"You can't do that," I said. My voice dropped to a harsh whisper.
"I absolutely can."
"Marcus Thorne just had a triple bypass surgery last week," I said, my hands curling into fists. "His physical therapy and medication run into the thousands. The basic insurance plan won't cover twenty percent of his bills."
"Then Marcus should start a crowdfunding page," Damon replied, his tone entirely flat. "Or, you can type your six-digit code into this screen, finalize the primary inventor transfer, and I will guarantee the engineering health benefits remain untouched for the next three years."
He was leveraging a man's life. A man who had stayed up with me for three days straight fixing a server crash last Christmas.
I looked at Damon's face. I searched for a trace of the partner I used to know, the guy who shared cheap pizza with me and promised we would always take care of our team.
There was nothing left. Just a hollow suit protecting his own ego.
"You are a monster," I said.
Instead of screaming, a strange, terrifyingly calm laugh escaped my lips. The sound bounced off the glass walls.
Damon frowned, clearly unsettled by my reaction. He took a half-step back, his confident posture cracking for a fraction of a second.
"Save the dramatics," he muttered, recovering quickly. "Type the code."
My bottom line was entirely crushed under his expensive shoes. I could fight for my name, fight for my pride, and watch Marcus drown in medical debt. Or I could surrender the patent and keep my team safe.
I reached for the tablet. The metal casing felt freezing against my burned palm.
"If you ever threaten my engineers again," I said, my voice eerily steady, "I will tear this company down to the studs."
"Just type it," Damon ordered.
I tapped the glowing white box on the screen. The digital keyboard popped up. I punched in my six-digit authorization sequence.
The screen flashed green.
A large checkmark appeared, followed by the words: Transfer of Primary Inventor Status Complete.
"Good," Damon said. He reached out to take the tablet back.
"Wait," I said, pulling the device out of his reach. "I need to log out of my registry portal. Unless you want Sloane poking around my personal tax forms."
Damon rolled his eyes. "Make it fast."
I kept the tablet angled away from him. The green success prompt hovered over the main interface. I swiped down to open the hidden developer terminal we built into the company's internal app. A black command box appeared.
My fingers moved rapidly over the glass screen.
Initiate protocol Ghost.
