Demeaned at My Promotion, I Quit and Left Him Begging

After sleeping on a makeshift floor mat at the office for thirty consecutive nights, I finally finished coding every last core module of the Nebula Algorithm.

This afternoon was the company’s quarterly promotion meeting.

The Tech Director position had been vacant for six months.

Having single-handedly resurrected our flagship project with this algorithm, I was convinced the spot was rightfully mine.

By 2:00 PM, the main conference room was packed wall-to-wall.

Our CEO, Sebastian, walked up to the podium holding the promotion list, beaming with pride.

I sat in the front row, my palms slightly clammy.

“Now, for this quarter’s executive appointments,” Sebastian announced.

“The position of Tech Director is officially awarded to Julian Monroe!”

A round of enthusiastic applause erupted across the room.

I froze in my seat, a sudden high-pitched ringing buzzing in my ears.

Julian was an “overseas master’s graduate” brought in out of nowhere just last month.

He didn’t even understand the company’s basic operations—what right did he have to jump over me for the director spot?

I abruptly stood up.

“Mr. Carter, I don’t get it. I led the team and worked myself to the bone for a whole month to build the Nebula Algorithm.

“Why isn’t my name on the promotion list?”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed, the warm smile instantly vanishing from his face.

“Aaron, what exactly do you think you’re doing?

“Promotions in this company are based on overall caliber. Do you really think a community college graduate like you can compete with a master’s graduate from an elite overseas university?”

I clenched my fists, raising my voice to fight back.

“The employee handbook explicitly states that tech promotions are strictly merit-based!

“Which rule in the book says I don’t qualify for a promotion?”

Sebastian let out a harsh sneer, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“Rules are rigid, but people aren’t.

“Aaron, do you have some kind of delusion about your standing here?”

He pointed a finger right at my nose, his eyes filled with unyielding disdain.

“A community college grad like you should be down on your knees thanking God for the base salary this company throws your way!”

I gritted my teeth so hard my nails nearly bit into my palms.

The surrounding colleagues began whispering under their breath, their glances laced with a mix of pity and mockery.

Right then, Julian stepped up to the stage in a tailored designer suit.

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and pulled up an exquisite presentation slides.

“Thank you for your trust, Sebastian.

“Next, I’d like to show everyone the cutting-edge Silicon Valley architecture I’m introducing to the company.”

The giant screen lit up.

I stared intently at the architectural diagrams and underlying logic displayed on the screen.

In an instant, the blood rushed straight to my head.

That was the exact core code of the Nebula Algorithm—code I had pulled thirty all-nighters to type out line by line!

My eyes turned red with fury as I pointed at the screen.

“That’s my code!

“Julian, you’ve been here for nearly a month, and you haven’t written a single line of code. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?!”

Julian looked down at me from the stage, letting out a contemptuous chuckle.

He walked down, patronizingly patting my shoulder.

“Aaron, don’t let your emotions get the best of you.

“Writing code is just grunt work—anyone off the street or outsourced could do it.

“Without me steering the strategic direction from above, those messy lines you typed would be nothing more than a pile of characters.”

He leaned into my ear, whispering in a mockingly low voice that only the two of us could hear.

“Work hard under me from now on.

“A community college graduate needs to learn their place.”