The Chipmaker's Revenge

All of this started on New Year's Eve.

That night, I got a last-minute emergency call from my boss, Zachary Simmons. I set down my half-eaten bowl of food and, under the disappointed gaze of my whole family, rushed back to the office for overnight overtime.

I worked from the eve of the New Year straight through until four in the afternoon of New Year's Day, finally squashing the critical bug and getting the entire system running flawlessly.

As soon as the fix was done, Zachary waddled over, his belly still full from the feast, and lazily tossed a box of cold, soggy takeout onto my desk.

"Tough night, Josh. Haven't eaten yet, right? Here, have something quick."

Then he fished out a crumpled ten-dollar note and slapped it into my hand.

"This is your overtime pay. Take it home and get a meal for your wife and kids. Tell them it's on me!"

I stared at the note for a few seconds before murmuring, "Thank you."

By the calendar, this year marked my tenth at Dalton Technology.

Ten years ago, I'd just finished my PhD at a prestigious overseas university when my college dormmate Zachary called.

"Josh, I just started a tech company, and I need top talent like you! Don't worry—our friendship means my success is yours too. I'll never treat you unfairly!"

Fueled by the promise of our friendship and a heart full of idealism, I turned down a 100-thousand-dollar annual offer abroad and came home to start from scratch with him.

Over ten years, I transformed Dalton Technology from a basement workshop into one of the leading tech giants in Baswort City.

Yet, as the company grew, I stayed stuck in the same place. My title remained the same senior engineer I had been ten years ago. My salary had risen from eight hundred to two thousand.

At the New Year reunion with my classmates, those who graduated at the same time were already earning six-figure salaries.

One of them laughed and asked, "Josh, you were the top of our class, a PhD from a world-class university. Your salary must be tens of times ours, right?"

I opened my mouth but couldn't say a word. I just threw back a shot of strong liquor. The burn went down my throat, leaving bitterness and sting in my chest.

At that moment, I felt the same way I felt now.

Seeing me take the money, Zachary grinned, satisfaction written all over his face. He exchanged a few polite words and, using a phone call as an excuse, turned and left.

I slowly packed up my things, still carrying the hideously unappetizing bag of takeout.

As I reached the ground floor, about to hop on my electric bike to go home, a familiar voice came from the Land Rover parked ahead.

"The new head of the tech department? Didn't I tell you already—it's definitely—"