Over the next three days, I worked around the clock. Systems came back online one by one. Data was recovered where possible. The company limped back to operation. On the fourth day, I found Garrison in my old office, going through my archived files.
“Looking for something?” I asked from the doorway.
He jumped slightly.
“Research for the transition plan.”
“Those files are outside the scope of your access permissions.”
“I’m the technology director. Nothing is outside my scope.”
I stepped closer.
“You know what I think, Garrison? I think you’re desperate to find evidence that I sabotaged the system. Because if you don’t, everyone will know this disaster lands squarely on your shoulders.”
His eyes narrowed.
“The board may be temporarily impressed by your recovery efforts, but they see the bigger picture. Your system was a house of cards.”
“My system was brilliant, and you know it. That’s what really bothers you. That a woman created something you couldn’t understand, much less improve upon.”
“You’re living in a fantasy world.”
He gathered his tablet.
“Enjoy your temporary victory. This company will be implementing my vision, not yours.”
As he brushed past me, I caught his arm.
“Before this is over, everyone will know exactly who you are.”
That night, as I reviewed the contract offered by the board, I noticed something peculiar: a clause regarding intellectual property that hadn’t been in my original employment agreement. I called Meera, my attorney.
“They’re trying to claim ownership of your biomimetic computing methodology,” she confirmed after reviewing the document. “Not just the implementation you created for them, but the entire concept.”
“That’s why they want me back. They’re afraid I’ll take it elsewhere.”
“Precisely. And this transition plan they’re proposing, it looks like they want you to document everything. Then they’ll likely terminate you again once they have what they need.”
I thought about Garrison’s smug face. About Octavia’s cold dismissal after seventeen years of service. About the board’s sudden interest in my expertise now that they needed it.
“What if I counteroffer?” I asked.
“With what terms?”
I smiled, knowing exactly what I wanted.
“Terms they won’t be able to refuse, but will regret accepting.”
