Overworked to Death by a Two-Faced Boss

My migraine attacks had become increasingly frequent since the start of this quarter. The painkillers I kept in my desk drawer went from small blister packs to full-sized bottles.

My colleague, Bobby Carter, watched me massage my temples as I downed some coffee, muttering, "A project director at my last company had the exact same symptoms—and it turned out to be a brain tumor. But when he came out of surgery, someone else had already taken over his job."

I laughed and told him to stop it with the unlucky talk. However, I later found myself typing out "persistent headaches" and "brain tumor" to look up my symptoms.

I had been plagued by heart palpitations lately. When I stayed up late working on proposals, my vision sometimes went dark, and my reflection in the mirror often showed a sallow, sickly complexion.

I kept telling myself that I was just exhausted and that things would get better once the project launched and I finally got some rest. However, I couldn't help wondering if what Bobby said could possibly be true.

So, I secretly booked a medical check-up.

When I got my report back, the line saying "Suspected lesion. Further examination recommended" felt like an ice pick driven straight into my eyes.

Clutching the report, I returned to my desk in a daze.

The director of the company, Steven Swanson, emerged from his private office and clapped his hands to gather everyone's attention.

"All hands on deck tonight! We're at a critical juncture now—just one final push before the IPO! Give it everything you've got. Victory is within reach!"

He wore a crisp, tailored suit, his cufflinks catching the light with an elegant shimmer.

I hurriedly shoved the medical report into the bottom drawer, burying it beneath a thick stack of project proposals.

Our complimentary overtime meal soon arrived, but it was just a sad, plain cheeseburger with fries, completely cold and stuck together on the paper packaging.

I picked at it, the taste entirely lost on me. A guy from the neighboring team muttered between bites, complaining, "How many of his so-called 'final pushes' have we had now? My wife barely recognizes me anymore."

Steven strolled over, coffee in hand, his voice booming, "If you can complain, that just shows that you've got ambition! Every bit of effort you put in now is paving the way to your own financial freedom in the future!"

I lowered my head, staring at the greasy food in my hands as the words from the medical report burned in my mind.

"Mr. Swanson." I heard myself speak in a dry, hoarse voice, sounding jarringly out of place in the quiet, after-hours office.

"If… I mean, hypothetically, if I were to fall seriously ill and require long-term treatment, what would the company do about it?"

Steven paused, then flashed that familiar, motivational smile of his at me. "Young man, don't let your imagination run wild and get ahead of you! You're one of our key pillars! If that day ever were to come…"

He paused, his tone turning resolute. "The company would never abandon a team player! You will definitely get every bit of the support you're entitled to. Now, focus—let's tackle these challenges hand-in-hand!"

His words echoed in my ears as I slowly picked up my burger and took a huge bite of the cold food. My stomach churned, yet a sudden, searing heat welled up in my chest.

From the moment I took on this project, I knew it was a matter of life or death for the company. The lights in Steven's office stayed on until late into the night, and his gray hair seemed to multiply before my very eyes.

In every meeting, his eyes would redden as he said, "Guys, this is our last stand! The livelihoods of over a hundred people at this company rest on our shoulders!"

There wasn't a single game on my PC—just industry reports, competitor analyses, and an endless stream of presentation decks.

The rim of my coffee mug was stained with dark brown residue, and the office admin suggested I replace it, but I figured it was still perfectly functional. There was no need to waste company resources at a time like this.

Steven often clapped a hand on my shoulder, his voice raspy as he "motivated" me further.

"You're the core of this team, William Moore. I have the most faith in you. The company's future is in your hands."

I nodded firmly, looking into his weary yet determined eyes.

And so, the days rolled by in a blur of data, code, and conference rooms.

I had no weekends to myself. My social media feed was filled with my friends traveling and hanging out together, while my own world was consumed by OKRs, KPIs, and emergency meetings at 3:00 am.