Chapter 6
Daniel glanced at the clock. Two more hours until the end of the workday. Two more hours of trudging through tasks, of being invisible to everyone who mattered in this section.
Daniel leaned back, his eyes scanning the sterile office space, the flickering lights, and the dull gray walls. He stayed quiet, his mind swirling with thoughts of escape, of freedom, of a life where his worth wasn’t dictated by the biases of others.
He waited patiently, his fingers drumming softly on the desk. The minutes crawled by, but his resolve didn’t waver. Each tick of the clock brought him closer to leaving this place behind.
As the final seconds of the workday approached, Daniel took a deep breath. He had endured another day. But soon, he wouldn’t have to endure any longer.
Soon, this chapter would close.
Daniel’s footsteps were slow and measured as he left the office, the chill of the evening air biting at his skin. His bag hung heavily on his shoulder, but the real weight pressing down on him was the simmering resentment he kept buried deep. Each day he stayed, each moment he endured the suffocating unfairness, was fuel for the fire of his determination.
They think they can function without me? The thought pulsed through his mind, cold and sharp. They’ll see soon enough.
He wandered into a nearby park, the soft glow of lampposts casting long shadows across the pathways. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and clean. Daniel sank onto a bench facing a small pond, the surface of the water still rippling from the earlier rain. The park’s beauty was a stark contrast to the gray monotony of the office. It was quiet here, peaceful — a place where he could think clearly.
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers clasped together tightly. His mind spun with plans. He didn’t want to leave quietly. When he walked out of that office for the last time, he wanted his absence to hurt. He wanted them to realize how much they depended on him, how much they had taken his work for granted.
Graham’s laziness. Joe’s indifference. Leo’s blatant favoritism. Ray’s blind reliance on him. They were all part of the system that had failed him. He would make them feel the loss, the chaos his departure would cause.
As he visualized it, his phone buzzed, breaking his train of thought. He pulled it out and saw a message from Ray:
Ray: “Hey Daniel, need you to prep the meeting room on the first floor for Leo’s meeting tomorrow.”
Daniel’s jaw clenched. The familiar surge of frustration bubbled up, hot and relentless. Of course. It was always him. Ray didn’t ask Graham. Didn’t ask Joe. It was always Daniel who got the off-hours work dumped on him, as if his time didn’t matter, as if he existed solely to serve the whims of the office.
He stared at the message for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. The old, compliant part of him wanted to just say yes, to get it over with, to avoid another confrontation. But the fire inside him — the fire that had been growing stronger with every slight, every moment of disrespect — refused to let him give in.
Not this time.
He typed his response, the words flowing easily.
Daniel: “Sorry, Ray. I’m too busy. Ask Graham or Joe.”
He hit send and let the satisfaction wash over him. It was a small act of defiance, but it felt monumental. For once, he was saying no. For once, he was putting the responsibility back where it belonged.
He leaned back on the bench, the cool air filling his lungs. The ripples on the pond calmed, reflecting the faint glow of the evening sky. He knew there would be pushback — Ray would probably grumble, maybe even give him another passive-aggressive comment the next day. But Daniel didn’t care. He was done being the office’s default doormat.
As he pocketed his phone, a slow, determined smile spread across his face. He wasn’t just planning his exit; he was laying the groundwork for them to feel his absence. Every refusal, every boundary he asserted, was another crack in the illusion that they could treat him like he was replaceable.
They won’t see it coming, he thought. But they’ll feel it when I’m gone.
And when that day arrived, it wouldn’t just be Daniel leaving the office. It would be the foundation of their false stability crumbling beneath them.
As Daniel sat on the bench, the cold air nipping at his fingers, a spark of inspiration ignited in his mind. The gears of his frustration and determination clicked into place, forming a clear, potent idea.
What if I develop all the web portals the office needs myself?
The thought pulsed through him, electrifying. He knew the company paid millions to external developers for the portals — tools and systems that were essential for various departments. If he could design them internally, the savings would be monumental. Not only that, but it would make him indispensable, a linchpin holding their operations together. His demand within the office would skyrocket.
They’d have no choice but to recognize my value. No choice but to regret every moment they ignored me.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
The idea expanded, his mind whirring with possibilities. He could develop streamlined, efficient portals — faster, more secure, and customized to the company’s exact needs. He had the skills, and with his new abilities, the work would be done in record time. He’d save the company millions, and they would realize that losing him wasn’t just a blow — it was a catastrophe.
A slow, determined smile curled his lips. This was it. The perfect plan.
With the idea firmly planted, Daniel stood up, his resolve solid. He took one last look at the quiet serenity of the park before heading home, a renewed sense of purpose fueling his steps.
Back in his apartment, he dropped his bag by the door and stretched out the tension in his shoulders. His laptop sat on his desk, the faint hum of electronics greeting him like an old friend. But before he dove into work, he needed a break — something to clear his mind, to let the idea settle.
He booted up CS:GO, the familiar logo flickering onto the screen. The rapid clicks of his mouse and the adrenaline rush of the game washed over him, pushing the day’s frustrations to the back of his mind. His movements were precise, each headshot satisfying in a way that felt almost therapeutic.
As he played, his mind sharpened, focused. The plan was there, waiting patiently beneath the surface. When he was ready, he would begin. He’d develop the portals. He’d make himself irreplaceable. And when the time came, he’d walk away on his terms, leaving behind a hole they couldn’t fill.
But for now, he lost himself in the game, the flicker of the screen casting shadows across his determined face.
Let them underestimate me, he thought. They won’t see what’s coming.
Hours went by as Daniel sunk all of his time to playing CS: GO.
The glow of the monitor faded as Daniel shut down his laptop, the thrill of victory in CS:GO still tingling through his fingertips. The digital clock on his desk read 2:47 AM, the numbers glowing faintly in the darkness of his room. He rubbed his eyes, a wave of exhaustion finally catching up to him.
With a deep sigh, he shuffled to his bed and sank into the mattress, the sheets cool against his skin. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away, replaced by the heavy pull of fatigue. As his head settled into the pillow, his mind buzzed with the plan he’d forged in the quiet corners of his determination.
Just a few more days.
The thought circled like a mantra, steady and resolute. He could already see it — the looks on their faces when he handed in his resignation. The confusion, the dawning realization of how much they had depended on him, how they had taken his skills for granted. He imagined Leo’s face paling, Ray’s stammering disbelief, and the ripple of panic through the office as they finally understood what they were losing.
Would they plead for him to stay? Would they offer him promotions, better treatment, promises of change? The idea filled him with a quiet satisfaction, the kind that smoothed out the rough edges of his resentment. He didn’t know what would come next, but for once, he didn’t care. He was ready to take that leap, to free himself from the chains of their indifference.
They need me more than I need them, he thought, his eyelids growing heavy. And soon, they’ll know it.
The weight of his plan wrapped around him like a cocoon, protective and sure. His breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The noise of the day faded, and the last flickers of consciousness slipped away.
As Daniel drifted into sleep, a calm, defiant smile curled his lips. The countdown to his freedom had begun, and nothing was going to hold him back.
The next day, Daniel entered the IT section, his footsteps muffled by the sterile carpet. The room was eerily quiet, the empty chairs and silent computers giving it a ghostly feel. He exhaled slowly, the stillness wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.
Sliding into his chair, he booted up his computer, the hum of the system filling the void. The weight of his looming departure felt lighter today. He leaned back and clicked over to YouTube, immersing himself in Minecraft videos — world-building tutorials, survival challenges, redstone contraptions. The bright pixelated landscapes offered a much-needed escape.
Minutes blurred into hours, the rhythmic click of his mouse the only sound in the room. For once, he allowed himself to relax, to exist without the gnawing weight of expectation.
The door creaked open abruptly, breaking the trance. Daniel looked up to see Ray walk in, his brow creased with worry. Hot on his heels was Chief Director Michael, a tall figure exuding authority with every step. His sharp gaze swept over the room, landing on Daniel for a brief moment. The expression on his face was unreadable — neither approval nor disdain — just a blank, appraising look.
Without a word to Daniel, Chief Director Michael sat down next to Ray, the air in the room instantly tightening with tension.
“Ray,” the Chief Director began, his tone clipped and businesslike, “we need to address the file server storage. It’s falling behind our needs. Double the capacity as soon as possible.”
Ray nodded quickly, his fingers tapping nervously on his desk. “Yes, sir. I’ll make it happen.”
“I don’t care how you do it,” Chief Director Michael continued, his voice firm, “but we can’t afford any delays. Make it a priority.”
The discussion dragged on, technical jargon and logistical challenges bouncing between them. Daniel watched quietly, his eyes flicking between Ray’s increasingly anxious expression and the confident, unwavering demeanor of the Chief Director.
Eventually, Chief Director Michael stood up, straightening his jacket. “I expect results by the end of the week, Ray. Don’t let this slip.”
“Yes, sir,” Ray replied, his voice tight.
With a curt nod, Chief Director Michael exited the room, the door closing with a soft thud.
The silence that followed was thick with tension. Ray’s shoulders sagged slightly, his eyes darting to his screen, already calculating how to meet the impossible deadline. His fingers tapped restlessly on his desk, his jaw clenched.
Daniel leaned back, a slow smile forming. So now it’s Ray’s turn to feel the pressure.
Watching Ray sweat over the storage upgrade filled him with a quiet sense of pride — not out of malice, but from knowing the weight that had so often been dumped on him was now someone else’s burden. For so long, he had carried these tasks silently, shouldering the stress while others took the credit. Now, they would see how heavy that load truly was.
He crossed his arms, his gaze steady. Let them struggle. Let them realize how much they relied on me.
Ray rubbed his forehead, his frustration clear, but Daniel stayed silent, letting the quiet satisfaction wash over him. This was just the beginning — the cracks were forming, and soon, they’d realize just how much they needed him.
But by then, it would be too late.