By the fourth month of our covert development, the product was nearly complete.

We ran extensive tests. The performance metrics exceeded my initial predictions—42% faster than the market leader, which happened to be my current employer's product.


Accuracy was 27% higher.

And we could prove every number.

Time to get serious.


I'd written my resignation letter and revised it twenty times, perfecting every word.
My lawyer reviewed my employment contract again, confirming that code written on personal time using my own equipment belonged entirely to me.


I nodded solemnly.

The team and product stood ready. Sarah and Amy awaited my signal.

Everything was in place.

I just needed to pick a day.

That day ended up picking itself.

Quarterly all-hands meeting. The entire company gathered as the CEO delivered his usual speech about growth, vision, and changing the world—the same tired rhetoric.

Then came the recognition segment.

"I want to especially thank our technical leadership team. Michael and David—their innovation and strategic vision have been the cornerstone of our success this quarter."

Michael stood, waving with a brilliant smile.

David rose too, waving to the crowd.

Everyone applauded.

I sat in the back of the room.

I didn't clap. Didn't stand. Didn't smile.

It was my code that delivered their "forty-five percent user growth."

It was my bug fixes that ensured their "record uptime."

But of course.

Michael and David. Naturally their achievement.

I quietly stood and walked out while the applause continued.

Nobody noticed.

The next morning, I walked straight to David's office.

He was on the phone. He saw me, raised one finger—wait a moment.

I waited.

He hung up, looked up, and smiled. "Hey Emma, what's up?"

I placed the envelope on his desk.

"I'm resigning. Effective in two weeks."

His smile vanished.

They know they're nothing without you, yet they still try to keep you down.

"What? Emma, what's going on?"

"I'm leaving."

He stood quickly. "If this is about the promotion, we can definitely revisit that. I've always thought you have tremendous potential..."

"It's not about the promotion."

"Then what is it? Did someone poach you? We can match their offer, even go higher..."

"Nobody poached me."

"Then why are you—" he paused, his expression shifting. "Wait. You're not starting your own company, are you?"

I smiled.

That saved me from having to answer.

"Emma, my God. Do you know how hard that is? Startup failure rate is over ninety percent. And funding—VCs don't give money just because you're smart. There's competition, timing, a hundred things that could sink you..."

"I have money," I said.

The office fell silent.

"You have money now." He repeated slowly. "You already have it?"

"Yes."

"How...how much?"

"Enough to do what I need to do."

His face cycled through emotions. Shock. Confusion. Fear.

"What exactly are you going to build?"

——Scene Break——