The $5,000 Laptop Revenge

On the day I was fired, the HR manager blocked my path and pointed at the laptop on my desk. That's company property. Leave it.
I laughed in her face and slammed a receipt onto the desk from my drawer. Read it and weep. $5,000. My name on the bill.
With that, in front of the entire office, I packed it up and walked out.
Thirty minutes later, the police showed up at my apartment. The company had reported me for embezzlement.
I showed the cops my proof. The way the officer looked at the HR manager was like he was looking at an idiot.
By the next morning, the entire tech park knew. My ex-employer, in an attempt to steal a laptop, had crowned themselves "The pettiest company of the year."
1
After the police left, the office was dead silent.
That silence was louder than any scream. It pierced the eardrums.
Everyone's eyes were fixed like spotlights on HR Manager Karen's face, which shifted from red to green, then finally to a ghostly white.
She stood frozen, like a cheap wax figure about to melt.
I held my cardboard boxcontaining three years of my youth and a $5,000 MacBook Proand walked step by step through the solidified air.
I didn't look back.
I didn't say goodbye.
The last shred of dignity between me and this company had shattered the moment they called the cops.
The elevator doors slowly closed, cutting off the complex gazes behind me.
In the mirrored wall of the elevator, a woman with black-framed glasses and a blank expression stared back.
That was me.
Lena Hart.
Back in my rental apartment, I threw the box into a corner and didn't give it another glance.
The tension in my body snapped, and a wave of exhaustion drowned me.
I collapsed onto the sofa, unwilling to move or think.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from my best friend, asking if I was okay.
I replied, "Fired. Don't worry," and turned on Airplane Mode.
I needed silence.
I needed to process this absurdity.
I was woken up the next day by my phone vibrating against the table.
Turning off Airplane Mode, hundreds of messages flooded in.
Cautious condolences from former colleagues.
Gossip links from friends at other companies.
Our company's name, paired with the headline "Called Cops to Steal Laptop," had exploded across the tech park's newsletters and anonymous forums like Blind.
The comment sections were a carnival of schadenfreude.
"LMAO, CEO Wang's stinginess finally went viral."
"RIP to the HR manager. Her KPI is definitely in the negatives now. Failed to save the boss money and gifted him a PR disaster instead."
"Don't feel bad for her. That HR is trash. She's the grim reaper of layoffs. They call her 'Killer Karen'."
"Am I the only one curious about the specs of a $5k laptop? That girl is a legend!"
I looked at the screen, but I didn't feel the thrill of revenge I expected.
I felt empty, even a little sad.
A company reduced to gaining fame this way... how pathetic.
And I was the protagonist of this farce.
I clicked a link to a Medium article about the tech park.
The article was vivid, describing yesterday afternoon's events in detail.
Although my name was hidden, phrases like "Hardcore vs. HR," "Slapping the Receipt," and "Police Certified" made me a legend in the park.
The light from the phone screen illuminated my expressionless face.
I guessed CEO Wang's office must be lively right now.
Sure enough, in the afternoon, a former colleague who was still there secretly messaged me.
"Lena, Wang lost it. He smashed a mug in his office."
"Karen got chewed out so bad her eyes are swollen from crying."
"Wang said in the meeting that this incident is too damaging and we absolutely cannot let it go."
I stared at the text and tapped the screen.
"What does he want to do?"
"I don't know, but he told Karen to find out who leaked this. He also said he's going to teach you a 'lesson' so this kind of behavior doesn't spread."
A lesson?
Bad behavior?
Reading those words, a chill shot from my feet to my skull.
They made the mistake. They embarrassed themselves. And in the end, I was the one in the wrong?
I didn't reply.
Putting down the phone, I opened LinkedIn and started updating my resume.
Life goes on.
I needed a job.
I sent applications to several companies I'd been eyeing for a while.
With my resume and project experience, getting an interview shouldn't have been hard.
However, the whole afternoon passed. Silence.
No response.
Just the cold "Application Submitted" status.
An ominous feeling crept into my heart.
That night, I checked a job app and saw that a company I applied to just that morning had changed my status to "Not Suitable."
That was too fast.
Abnormally fast.
Normally, HR screening takes at least a day or two.
It felt like my name had been set as a keyword to be automatically rejected.
I turned off my phone. The room was pitch black.
The city lights outside cast mottled shadows on the ceiling through the blinds, like an invisible net.
CEO Wang's words, "teach you a lesson," echoed in my ears.
Anger, like a vine growing in the dark, wrapped tightly around my heart.
I understood.
The real war was just beginning.
2
For the next few days, I lived in a bizarre loop.
Apply, rejected.
Apply, rejected.
Even the headhunters who used to blow up my phone seemed to have evaporated. No updates, no DMs.
My carefully polished resume was like trash thrown into the internet void, unable to secure even a single interview.
The entire industry seemed to have slammed the door in my face.
It felt like drowning in deep water, struggling but unable to reach the surface.
Suffocation came from all sides.
I knew Wang's "lesson" had arrived.
He was using the network he'd built over decades to weave a massive net, aiming to blacklist me completely.
I wasn't going to accept this.
I picked a small startup with a business model I liked and applied again.
Surprisingly, I got an interview call the next day.
I walked into that office building with the reverence of a pilgrim.
The interview went smoothly.
From the department head to the partners, everyone showed great interest in my skills and past projects.
During the final round, the partner closed my file and looked at me with regret.
"Ms. Hart, we really value your abilities."
"But... we might not be able to extend an offer."
My heart sank.
"Can you tell me why?" My voice was calm, ripple-free.
The partner hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
"Regarding your previous employer... during the background check, we heard some unfavorable things."
"They said you have... sticky fingers. Issues with professional ethics. That you were fired for embezzlement of company property."
Boom.
Something in my brain snapped.
Blood rushed to my head.
So that was the crime they pinned on me.
How vicious. How precise.
For a professional, this was a death sentence.
"I suggest," the partner said, looking at me with sympathy, "you handle these rumors. Otherwise, it will be very difficult for you in this industry."
I stood up and bowed deeply.
"Thank you for telling me this."
Walking out of the building, the noon sun stung my eyes.
Standing on the busy street, I felt like a wandering ghost.
Anger, humiliation, helplessness... emotions churned inside me, threatening to tear me apart.
CEO Wang.
Karen.
You didn't just want to cut off my retreat.
You wanted to destroy me.
I took out my phone, knuckles white from gripping it so hard.
I called a friend who worked as a headhunter.
"Do me a favor. Find out exactly what CEO Wang from InnovateTech is saying about me."
My friend got back to me quickly. It was worse than I imagined.
In Wang's mouth, I was a malicious, petty thief who was caught red-handed and fired.
The $5,000 laptop became company property I schemed to steal.
The police incident was twisted into me throwing a tantrum and seeking revenge out of shame.
He even embellished, claiming I formed cliques and had a terrible attitude at work.
"Lena, this guy is a piece of work," my friend said indignantly. "He's trying to bury you."
I hung up, chest heaving.
Peaceful resolution?
Non-existent.
When pushed to the edge of a cliff with no way back, I only had two choices: jump, or push them off.
I went home and closed the curtains. darkness swallowed the room.
I sat in the dark for a long time until my eyes adjusted.
Then, I opened that $5,000 MacBook Pro.
The desktop wallpaper was a minimalist design I made myself.
I opened a heavily encrypted folder.
Inside was every trace of my three years at that company.
Every overtime record, clocked to the minute.
Recordings of every meeting where Wang promised big bonuses or gaslit the staff.
Every email asking me to do personal chores outside my job description.
Every unpaid expense report.
Every detail of withheld bonuses.
I am a hoarder of digital receipts. I save everything.
I never believe verbal promises. Only black and white.
I thought I'd never need these.
They were just a security blanket for my anxiety.
Now, they were my only weapon.
I organized the files, categorizing and naming them one by one.
Each file was a puzzle piece.
When put together, they would reveal the ugly, greedy, mean face behind Wang's mask of "We are a family."
By the time I finished, it was dark.
I stared at the dense folders on the screen, my eyes cold and determined.
Wang, you think you can use your power to define who I am.
I will use the evidence you left behind to show the world what you are.
You started this war.
But I will decide how it ends.
3
These alone weren't enough.
These proofs would only show that Wang was a bad boss, giving me an edge in a labor dispute.
But they couldn't destroy the empire he was so proud of.
They couldn't wash away the mud he threw at me.
I needed a sharper sword. One that could pierce his armor and strike his vitals.
I thought of someone.
Jason.
The company's former tech lead, a straight-shooting engineer.
He was fired a month before me.
The reason? "Insubordination."
The real reason was laughably absurd.
Wang's wife got a new iPhone and couldn't transfer her data. Wang naturally ordered Jason to go to his house and help.
Jason was in the middle of solving a critical bug and replied, "I'm not your personal butler. This is work hours."
The next day, Karen called Jason into her office, and he was packing his bags by noon.
He was one of the few people in the company who dared to stand up to Wang.
I knew he wouldn't be happy about it.
I found Jason's contact and sent a message.
"Free? Let's talk."
Jason replied instantly.
"Free. Send address."
We met at a noisy BBQ joint.
The sizzling meat and loud chatter provided perfect cover.
Jason looked the sameplaid shirt, messy hair, but bright eyes.
He walked over with two beers and set them on the table.
"Heard about what happened. It's all over the tech park." He opened a bottle and handed it to me. "Badass."
I clinked my bottle against his and took a big gulp of cold beer.
"Same to you," I said.
Jason smiled, a bit self-deprecatingly.
"I was just being reckless. You, you have guts and brains."
"What's the situation now?" he asked.
I told him everythingthe rejected applications, the blacklisting.
When I finished, Jason slammed his skewer onto the table.
"That old bastard! He's not human!"
His anger was real and direct.
I knew I found the right person.
"I don't want to let this go," I said, looking him in the eye. "He wants me dead. I want to show him who falls first."
Jason's eyes lit up.
It was the excitement of finding a worthy ally, the thrill of finally releasing pent-up rage.
"Count me in!" he said without hesitation. "I've wanted to screw him over for ages!"
"What do you need me to do?"
"I need a breach point," I said. "Something that will hurt him to the bone. Labor disputes are just mosquito bites to him."
Jason fell silent.
He spun his beer bottle, thinking.
The smell of smoke and grilled meat filled the air.
After a while, he looked up, voice lowered.
"I might... have something."
My heart skipped a beat.
"What is it?"
"Do you know which company makes the core software we use for our business?"
I shook my head.
I was in marketing; I didn't know much about the tech stack.
"It's the flagship product of 'Starlight Tech.' An enterprise license costs 0-030,000 market price."
"Our company," Jason smirked coldly, "uses a pirated version."
I froze.
I knew Wang was cheap with employee benefits and salaries.
I never thought he'd be bold enough to pirate the core tools the company relied on to survive.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"Because I was the one who installed and maintained it," Jason said sarcastically. "When Wang told me to find a cracked version, I warned him. Commercial use carries high risk. If caught, the fines are astronomical."
"Guess what he said?"
"He said, 'Risk is a cost. We're a small company, we need to control costs. If nobody talks, who will know?'"
"If nobody talks, who will know?" I repeated the phrase, finding it incredibly ironic.
"When he fired me, I kept an ace up my sleeve." Jason leaned in. "I backed up everything on my computer related to the server using the pirated softwarebackend logs, IP addresses, version info. Everything."
"It's a complete chain of evidence."
"If we hand this to Starlight Tech's legal department..."
Jason didn't finish.
But I understood.
My breathing quickened.
This wasn't a sword.
It was a battle axe.
An axe capable of splitting the fortress of InnovateTech wide open.
"Okay," my voice trembled with excitement. "We start there."
The two of us clinked beer bottles in the noisy restaurant.
The crisp sound of glass was the horn signaling our charge.
The Avengers were assembled.
4
Jason and I moved fast and quietly.
Like underground operatives, we communicated only via encrypted apps.
Jason sent me the evidence backup via encrypted email.
It was a massive zip file.
Server logs, startup records of the cracked software, internal IPs using it, detailed version info.
The evidence was more detailed than I could have imagined.
Jason was a tech god. His backups even included timestamps that couldn't be tampered with, ready for court.
Looking at these files, I could picture Wang's smug face.
He thought he saved 0-030,000. He didn't know the employee he kicked to the curb had planted a time bomb.
My job was to light the fuse.
I didn't go to the police or a government agency.
The process was too slow, and it might alert the enemy.
I wanted InnovateTech to be judged by its "victim."
I spent a whole day writing an anonymous whistleblower letter in a tone so calm it bordered on cruel.
I added no personal emotion.
I simply stated objectively and in detail how InnovateTech had been using pirated "Starlight" software for commercial profit on a large scale for years.
I attached Jason's technical evidence chain.
Finally, I wrote:
"Your intellectual property is being ruthlessly trampled and stolen. The thief is using your hard work to make a fortune. As a loyal user of Starlight software, I cannot tolerate this."
After writing it, I read it through. Every word was ice-cold.
Then, using a new, untraceable email address, I sent the letter and attachments to Starlight Tech's public legal email.
To be safe, I burned everything onto a CD and mailed it anonymously to Starlight's CEO from a remote mailbox.
After that, I deleted all records and local files.
As if nothing happened.
Then, the wait.
Every day was torture.
I refreshed Starlight's website and industry news constantly.
Jason was even more nervous, messaging me every hour.
I told him to be patient. Sharks always come when they smell blood.
Two weeks later, on a calm Wednesday afternoon.
Jason sent me a photo.
It showed several people in black suits standing at InnovateTech's reception desk. They radiated power.
The leader wore a pin on his lapel. The Starlight Tech logo.
Jason's caption: "They're here."
My heart jumped into my throat.
He sent another photo.
It was Wang, bowing and scraping with a fake smile, ushering them into the conference room.
Jason started a text commentary.
"They showed a court order and a lawyer's letter."
"They're checking the servers now."
"Wang's face is green."
"Tech team is being questioned. I bet they can't delete the logs I left."
"Hahaha, Wang is making calls. He looks like his dad died."
I watched the messages, palms sweating.
Nervous, but sickeningly excited.
An hour later.
Jason sent the final message.
"Caught red-handed. The lawyer announced on the spot they're suing InnovateTech. Damages... $3 million."
Three million dollars.
I exhaled a long breath.
For a company with tight cash flow like InnovateTech, this was a death blow.
Wang, you saved 0-030,000. Now you pay $3 million.
I wonder what your calculating brain thinks of that math.
That night, Starlight Tech released an official statement.
It was harsh, naming InnovateTech for infringement and vowing to pursue legal responsibility to the end.
It caused a huge stir.
This spread much further than my laptop incident.
This involved an industry giant.
Before, InnovateTech was a joke in the park. Now, it was a cautionary tale for the whole industry.
I could almost hear the sound of Wang's carefully maintained "dignity" shattering.
Crisp and pleasant.
This was just the appetizer.
The main course was yet to come.

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