Chapter 7: The Breaking Point

Our high-level discord was obvious to everyone—a fatal mistake in management.

To teach me a lesson, Rachel took Tanya’s advice and squeezed my department. One day, my staff were sent for training; the next, our budget request was denied. People who’d followed me left, and the department’s mood turned sour.

New hires picked up on the vibe and sided with Rachel. In the break room—always smelling like burnt popcorn and stale coffee, no matter how many times they cleaned it—or in the restroom, I’d hear whispers:

“Honestly, the CTO’s got no pull. His ideas are cool, but the boss never listens.”

“It’s tough for him as a partner. It’s miserable following him—he can’t fight for us.”

“It’s just the boss’s show. We’re here for a paycheck. Company values? Culture? Whatever. The boss tells us what to do, we do it. Caleb’s too naïve. How long can he last?”

Yeah. My passion wouldn’t last forever.

After everything Rachel did, I started doubting myself—maybe I really wasn’t cut out for the job.

As my power was chipped away, I became a figurehead. Rachel launched new projects without opposition. The company dumped money into smart home products. Later, when funding ran out, Derek returned and became Silverline’s biggest investor. To Rachel, he was a godsend, fixing her urgent problems.

After that, Rachel grew more and more impatient with me. That’s when headhunters from Westview started calling. But I hadn’t given up on Rachel, so I refused them all.

I never expected Westview would keep after me for two years. So, the day I broke up with Rachel, I finally accepted their offer. Looking back, it was the right decision.

Ben toasted me:

“Caleb, from now on, we’ll follow your lead!”

He started, and the rest of the team took turns making me drink. I couldn’t handle it, so I quickly surrendered and ducked into the bathroom to wash my face and recover.

Someone brought in a tray of sliders and curly fries, and the whole room smelled like a high school football game. The bathroom was cold and echoey, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as I turned to face the last person I expected to see.

As I came out, I bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” I said, about to leave, but was stopped.

“Mr. Miller... Caleb.”

The fluorescent lights above the mirror flickered. I looked up—and my heart dropped, recognizing the voice, the familiar hesitation in how she said my name.