The new assistant, Ava’s latest hire, dumped a full cup of coffee onto my face in front of the entire executive board. “You’re a parasite who does nothing but hide in his office playing video games, and you have the nerve to question my proposal?” His voice echoed in the silent boardroom. “I’m telling you you’re fired. Get out!” Calmly, I rose to my feet. I wiped the sticky, lukewarm liquid from my skin and looked at Ava. She frowned, her gaze deliberately darting away from mine. She chose silence. A slow smile spread across my face. I pulled out my phone. “Dad, you listening?” I asked, the speakerphone on. “They’re telling me to get out.” 1 It was a Monday. I was deep in the final push of a strategic campaign on my laptop when a sharp knock broke my concentration. “Mr. Sterling? Carter Hayes needs all department heads in the main conference room in ten minutes.” It was Chloe from Admin, her voice rushed. I didn’t look up, my fingers a blur across the keyboard. “Not going. Busy.” In the six months I’d been embedded in this company, I hadn’t attended a single meeting. It wasn't that I was exempt; I simply couldn’t be bothered. “But…” Chloe hesitated, her voice dropping. “Carter was very specific. He said no one gets to miss this one. He said it was an order from Ms. Monroe.” My fingers froze. My character, a meticulously crafted warrior, was instantly annihilated by the level boss. As the screen faded to a dismal gray, I swore under my breath and shut the laptop. By the time I arrived, the conference room was already full. As I entered, a ripple of strange looks and whispered conversations followed me. “What’s Liam Sterling doing here?” “I thought he didn’t do meetings.” “Who knows. Must be Carter’s doing. He specifically requested him.” “Carter’s been looking for a reason to pick a fight with him. This should be good.” I ignored the murmurs and chose a seat in the farthest corner, pulling out my phone to resume the game I’d been forced to abandon. A full thirty minutes passed before Ava Monroe and Carter Hayes finally made their grand entrance. Carter clutched a stack of files, a smug, triumphant smile plastered on his face. “Thank you all for making the time on such short notice,” Ava began, her eyes scanning the room. They rested on me for less than a second before moving on. “Carter has a major proposal he’d like to present to you all today.” Carter cleared his throat and launched into a long-winded speech about his “revolutionary” new marketing strategy. I split my attention, one thumb navigating my game while my ears picked up the broad strokes. The more I heard, the more absurd it sounded. The budget was astronomical, and the entire concept was fundamentally misaligned with our company’s market position. “...and so, I propose an immediate eighty-million-dollar investment to dominate the high-end market sector within the next three months!” Carter concluded, his voice ringing with passion. A sparse, hesitant applause fluttered through the room. I couldn’t help myself. Without looking up from my phone, I said, “For eighty million, you could just throw cash off the roof of the building. You’d get more buzz and better engagement.” The room went dead silent. Ava’s brow furrowed. “What did you say?” Carter’s voice was suddenly sharp. I finally lifted my head, my expression one of pure boredom. “I said your proposal is full of holes.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “First, your target demographic is completely wrong. Second, your channel allocation is a mess. And third, your entire method for calculating ROI is a fantasy.” I leaned back in my chair. “You might as well be setting eighty million dollars on fire. At least that would make a nice glow.” Carter’s face flushed a deep, blotchy red. He snatched his coffee cup from the table and stormed towards me. “You’re a parasite who does nothing but hide in his office playing video games, and you have the nerve to question my proposal?” he roared. And then— Splash. The hot liquid cascaded down my face. It soaked the collar of my white shirt, staining it a muddy brown. The entire room held its breath. “Liam Sterling, I’m announcing you’re fired. Get out!” 2 Carter stood over me, chest puffed out like a conquering hero. I rose slowly, pulling a linen handkerchief from my pocket and methodically dabbing the coffee from my face. Then I turned my gaze to Ava. She frowned, looked away, and said nothing. A genuine laugh escaped me then. A real one. I held up my phone, where the call was still active on speaker. “Dad, you listening?” “They’re telling me to get out.” The line was silent for two beats before a deep, resonant voice replied. “Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.” The only reason I was in this office, in this city, was because of a pact made by my grandfather decades ago. An engagement. Ava Monroe was my fiancée. I despised the idea of an arranged marriage, a dynastic merger, but my father had been relentless, wielding the weight of family duty and legacy like a club. So I’d agreed. To “foster a deeper connection,” my father had insisted I take a position at Monroe Industries. For six months, I’d played the part of a do-nothing manager, a ghost in the corporate machine. In reality, I had been quietly leveraging Sterling resources, making calls, greasing wheels, and single-handedly ensuring the company’s performance soared, paving the way for a successful IPO. Monroe Industries became a market darling, and Ava Monroe’s name appeared on the Forbes list of rising entrepreneurs. I’d done all that, but we barely spoke. During our handful of stilted, obligatory dates, it became clear she knew I was the man from the family arrangement, but she had no idea of the true scale of the Sterling family name. … I sat back down in my corner chair, picked up my phone, and unpaused my game. On the screen, my character respawned. My fingers flew across the glass, the tension in the room melting into the background. Carter’s face went from red to a sickly shade of purple. He clearly hadn’t expected me to so thoroughly ignore his display of authority. He slammed his hand on the table. “Liam! What do you think this is? Everyone is focused on a critical meeting, and you’re playing games?” A cold smile touched my lips. “I’ve already hit my targets for the entire fiscal year. What’s a little game?” “If you don’t get out right now, I’m calling security!” “Be my guest,” I replied without looking up. The other executives exchanged uneasy glances. Some pretended to study their documents; others shot furtive looks at Ava, waiting for her to act. Finally, she stood. Today she was wearing a sharp, tailored black dress, her hair pulled back in a severe knot. She looked at me, her expression a mixture of impatience and disdain. “Liam, your performance metrics are excellent,” she said. Her voice was level, but it carried an undeniable authority. “But this is a place of business, not your trust fund playground. Please leave the conference room. You’re disrupting the meeting.” My fingers paused. My character died again. I looked up and met her gaze, a playful smirk on my lips. “Are you sure you want me to leave, Ms. Monroe?” Ava’s frown deepened, her voice turning to ice. “I won’t repeat myself. If you have any professional decency, you know when to walk away.” “And if I don’t want to walk away?” “Then don’t blame me for what happens next.” Seeing Ava firmly on his side, Carter’s courage surged. He lunged at me and slapped the phone out of my hand. It hit the polished floor with a sickening crack, the screen exploding into a spiderweb of fractures. “Don’t push your luck, Sterling!” he snarled, grabbing the front of my shirt and hauling me upwards. “Ava gave you an order! What are you still doing here? Get out!” From his very first day as Ava’s assistant, Carter had made his dislike for me clear. I once overheard him through Ava’s office door, his voice dripping with condescension. “Ms. Monroe, this isn’t a charity. Paying a six-figure salary to a guy who just plays games all day is a slap in the face to everyone who actually works here.” Ava hadn’t replied, but through the glass, I saw her hands pause over a document. After that, Carter grew bolder. He’d make veiled comments in department meetings about my “impressive contributions.” “Some people,” he’d say with a theatrical sigh, “collect a hefty paycheck but can’t even be bothered to show up for a meeting. Must be nice to be on a permanent vacation.” The whispers around the office grew louder. I was a nepo-baby, a rich kid slumming it. I slept in my office. They started a betting pool on when I’d finally be fired. I knew about all of it. I just didn’t care. 3 But the more I ignored him, the more entitled he became. This was his moment, and he was reveling in it. I don’t tolerate bullies. I clamped my hand around his wrist and twisted. Hard. “Ah!” Carter cried out, his grip on my shirt releasing instantly. As he stumbled back, his arm slammed against the edge of the heavy oak conference table. There was a sharp crack as his watch face met the wood. He staggered, then looked down at his wrist. The color drained from his face. A deep, ugly scratch now marred the crystal of his expensive Patek Philippe, glaring under the recessed lighting. “You… you…” he stammered, his hand trembling as he held it up. His eyes were blazing. “Liam, do you have any idea how much this watch costs? This was a birthday gift from Ava! It’s worth eighty thousand dollars!” I slowly straightened the collar of my wrinkled shirt. “You lost your footing. Not my problem.” “Liam!” Ava’s voice was a whip crack. “That’s enough! You disrupted a meeting, and now you’ve deliberately destroyed personal property. On behalf of the company, I am officially terminating your employment. Now, gather your things and leave.” Carter, seeing his advantage, pressed on. “Ava, don’t just let him walk away! He has to pay for the watch!” The room was silent. Every eye was on me, a mix of pity and morbid curiosity. They were waiting for the show. “Fine. I’ll pay,” I said. “Eighty thousand, was it?” I bent down to retrieve my shattered phone. The screen was a disaster, but it still lit up. As I dialed a number, Carter sneered. “What eighty thousand? It’s eight hundred thousand!” I paused, looking at him. “Are you sure about that?” “Of course, I’m sure!” Carter puffed out his chest. “A gift from Ava is priceless! Eight hundred thousand is a bargain, and I’m being generous! Ask anyone here if I’m wrong!” He knew my official salary. He knew I couldn’t afford that. This was about humiliation. The other executives, sensing the shift in power, chimed in. “He’s right. A gift from Ms. Monroe can’t be measured in money,” the CFO said, adjusting his glasses. “You should just pay it, Liam.” “This isn't a non-profit, Sterling. You break it, you buy it,” the head of marketing added with a smirk. “Though at your salary, you’ll probably be paying it off until you retire.” A wave of cruel laughter rippled through the room. They had despised the "slacker" in their midst for months, and now they were enjoying my downfall. Ava stood by, her brow furrowed, but she did nothing to stop them. Their taunts didn't bother me. I looked straight at Carter. “Eight hundred thousand. That’s the final number? No more additions?” He blinked, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Still playing the big shot, Liam? We all know what your paycheck looks like. How are you going to pay? With your life?” I ignored him and put the phone to my ear. “I need eight hundred thousand in cash delivered to the Monroe Industries boardroom. As soon as possible.” Carter scoffed. “Right. Who are you trying to fool with that little performance?” I didn’t answer. I just waited. Less than ten minutes later, the conference room doors swung open. A man in a flawlessly tailored suit walked in, followed by three uniformed bank couriers carrying heavy briefcases. He walked directly to me and bowed respectfully. “Mr. Sterling. Here is the eight hundred thousand you requested.” I nodded. “Thank you for your promptness. You can set them down there.” The cases were opened one by one, revealing stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills that seemed to glow under the lights. The room fell into a stunned silence. You could have heard a pin drop. Carter looked like he’d been punched in the gut. He stared at the money, then at the man in the suit. Suddenly, the CFO’s face went white. “Mr.… Mr. Davies?!”
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