Eight Years in This Seat

Sarah, your position has been eliminated.
The HR manager slid a folder across the table toward me.
I stared at her, stunned. Me? But I'm the lead on the Nexus Core system
Marcus made the decision, she cut me off, her tone flat. He said anyone can take over the project.
My mouth opened, but no words came out. She was already looking down at the next file on her desk.
"You get three months' severance. Sign here."
I looked at the text on the page. Eight years. I had given this company eight years of my life, and this is what it was worth.
1.
I didn't sign.
The HR manager looked up, her eyes flashing with impatience. "Sarah, you need to think this through. If you sign now, you get the payout. If you make a scene, it won't end well for you."
"I want to see Marcus."
"Mr. Elwes is a very busy man."
"Phase Two of Nexus Core is scheduled for delivery next week. I'm the only one who knows the core code"
"The technical details," she interrupted again, "will be handled. Marcus has a plan."
I took a deep breath. Eight years. When I joined in 2017, this company was just a handful of people in a dingy old office building. The entire tech department was me and four other guys.
I built Nexus Core one line of code at a time. From version 1.0 to the current 3.7. Over three million lines of code. It served seventeen of our enterprise clients and brought in over seven million dollars in annual revenue.
"I can wait," I said.
Her expression soured. "Sarah, a word of advice. Once Marcus makes a decision, he doesn't change it. You're only going to make this harder on yourself."
I didn't move.
She stood up and left the conference room.
I sat there alone, staring out the window. The three o'clock sun cast a warm glow on the street below, the same street where I bought my coffee every day. I'd been sitting in this building for eight years.
The door opened.
It was Marcus Elwes. He was in his early forties, his hair perfectly coiffed, a gold watch peeking out from the cuff of his tailored suit.
"Sarah," he said, sitting down across from me. "I hear you're refusing to sign."
"Marcus, Phase Two goes live next week. If I leave, who's going to"
"Don't worry," he said with a dismissive smile. "The tech is covered. Kevin and the team can handle it."
Kevin? Kevin Chen was a junior who'd been hired last year. He barely understood the system architecture.
"Marcus, the core module's encryption protocol was something I developed independently. There's no documentation"
"Sarah."
He cut me off. His voice wasn't loud, but it was firm, absolute.
"I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of your role here."
I was speechless.
"Nexus Core," he said slowly, deliberately, "is the result of a team effort. It is not your personal project. The company will do just fine without you."
I stared at him, my blood running cold. "At the company gala last year," I said, my voice quiet, "you told the clients you led the development."
His smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "That was just for marketing purposes."
"And the core technology?"
"Sarah," he said, standing up. "I don't have time to argue with you about this. HR will handle the rest." He walked to the door, then paused. "Don't overestimate your own importance."
The door clicked shut.
I sat there alone. The sunlight was still beautiful.
But I felt a deep, unshakable chill.
2.
At five o'clock, I went back to my desk.
My colleagues kept their heads down, their eyes glued to their monitors. No one looked at me. As I was packing my things into a cardboard box, Kevin came over.
"Sarah," he whispered, "are you really leaving?"
"My position was eliminated."
A flicker of panic crossed his face. "But Phase Two"
"Marcus said you guys can handle it."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I knew what he wanted to say. Just last week, he'd spent two hours in a meeting with me, trying and failing to understand the key generation mechanism for the encryption module.
"Sarah," he hesitated, "Marcus told me I'm taking over Phase Two starting tomorrow"
"I know."
"I I don't really get how that"
"Kevin."
Marcus's voice cut through the quiet office from behind us. Kevin froze, snapping his mouth shut as if a switch had been flipped.
"Sarah's situation is her own business. Don't get involved," Marcus said, walking past without even glancing at me. "We'll discuss Phase Two at the morning stand-up."
"Yes, Marcus."
He walked away. Kevin looked at me, his mouth half-open. "Sarah, I"
"It's okay," I said, placing the last folder in my box. "Just do your best."
He nodded and scurried back to his desk.
I walked toward the exit, box in my arms. The door to Marcus's office was open. He was on the phone, his voice booming with confidence.
"Relax, I'm personally overseeing the Nexus project. Sarah Vance? She's just a coder. Her leaving won't impact a thing. I'm in control of the core technology."
I stopped for a second. He didn't see me.
"That's right, Phase Two will be delivered on time next week. You have my personal guarantee."
I didn't go in. I just held my box and walked to the elevator.
As the doors slid shut, I saw the young woman at the front desk give me a small, sad wave.
Then the doors closed.
Eight years. Over, just like that.
I stepped out of the building, and the bright sun made me squint. My phone rang.
It was my mom.
"Honey, are you done with work? Coming home for dinner tonight?"
I opened my mouth, the words catching in my throat. "Mom, I I have to work late."
"Again? That company works you like a dog."
"Yeah."
"Okay, well, take care of yourself."
I hung up. Standing in front of the building, I suddenly had no idea where to go.
3.
I went to the coffee shop across the street.
I ordered a black Americano and found a seat in the corner, the box of my professional life at my feet. My phone screen lit up.
It was the company-wide chat.
Marcus had posted a message: "Team, due to personal reasons, Sarah Vance will be leaving the company. I will be personally leading the charge on Nexus Core Phase Two, so there is nothing to worry about."
A flood of replies appeared instantly.
"Got it, Marcus!"
"Thanks for stepping in, Marcus!"
"With you leading, Marcus, I know we're in good hands!"
I stared at the screen.
Personal reasons?
I was laid off, and he called it personal reasons?
My thumb hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds. In the end, I just locked the screen. I took a sip of coffee. It was bitter, astringent.
Eight years. I gave my youth to this company.
In 2017, I turned down an offer from Google to come here. Because Marcus promised me a chance to build something new, to lead a core project.
And I did. Nexus Core. From scratch. I tackled every technical hurdle, often alone. I designed the encryption protocol. I built the core architecture. Through more than thirty iterations, I was the one pulling all-nighters to oversee every launch. During the massive system upgrade last year, I worked for a month straight without a single day off.
And for what?
At the gala, Marcus stood on stage, holding court with the clients. "Nexus Core is the culmination of our team's hard work, which I personally led for three years"
The applause was deafening. I was sitting in a corner, invisible. Later, when a client asked him a technical question he couldn't answer, I was the one who had to step in and save him. He clapped me on the shoulder and said, "This is our lead engineer, a technical genius I personally mentored."
I just smiled and said nothing.
Looking back, I was such a fool.
My phone buzzed again. An unknown number.
I answered.
"May I speak with Sarah Vance?"
"This is she."
"Hi, Sarah, this is a recruiter from a tech headhunting firm. Is now a good time to talk?"
I paused. "Not really, no."

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