Demoted to Security Guard The CTO's Billion-Dollar Revenge

Olympia walked over and leaned down, her voice low enough that only the two of them could hear.

"Miles, don't blame me. I'm doing this for your own good. You have no idea how pathetic you've looked lately. It breaks my heart to see you like this."

Her tone was as gentle as ever.

"I know you're hurting, but you can't keep coasting on past accomplishments forever. Once you pull yourself together, things can go back to the way they were between us."

Miles lifted his head. Even now, even after everything, she was still putting on an act.

"You're stepping in as acting CTO. Can you even handle the day-to-day system maintenance?"

Olympia straightened up and shot him a look of disdain, her voice rising so the whole room could hear.

"Miles, honestly, this is exactly why you'll never be more than a worker bee. You really think this company can't function without you?"

"You think this little system of yours actually needs a senior executive to babysit it?"

She turned toward Thomas.

"Mr. Delgado outsourced it to a top-tier team ages ago. Professional work should be handled by professionals. A man with his vision isn't about to get tunnel vision over code and tech the way you do."

Thomas, meanwhile, was staring at the sliver of collarbone exposed above Olympia's blouse, his eyes greedy and unsubtle.

A chorus of agreement rippled through the conference room.

Miles glanced at the two of them, then picked up the pen and signed the penalty agreement.

"The money. Fine. I'll pay it."

He walked out of the conference room and made two phone calls.

The first was to his attorney.

"Jack Lambert, I need you to start preparing litigation materials."

The second was to his accountant.

"Rudolph Chavez, I need you to run some numbers for me."

"Calculate this: a company that used a privately developed business system, free of charge, for ten years. That system generated hundreds of millions in revenue for the company."

"How much should the system's owner charge in copyright licensing fees?"

On the third day, Miles was stopped at the front entrance of the building.

His badge wouldn't open the turnstile.

The security guard looked at him with an apologetic wince. "Mr. Gilbert, I'm sorry. Orders from above. You're not allowed inside."

Miles was reaching for his phone when Olympia emerged from the lobby.

She was wearing a brand-new Chanel suit, her makeup flawless, practically glowing.

"Miles, why are you still showing up to the office?"

She walked up to him, a note of reproach in her voice.

"Oh, right, I forgot to notify you. You're on suspension. You're not permitted to enter the office premises."

"The tech team the company hired is about to take over the systems, and frankly, I'm worried you might tamper with something out of spite. So for the time being, you can't go in."

Miles looked at her.

She glanced at him, then at the security guard, and something seemed to occur to her. She covered her mouth and laughed.

"You know what? Standing out here like this, you actually look like you'd make a pretty good security guard."

"You love slacking off, don't you? Well, this is the perfect job for you. Nice and easy, no thinking required. Just stand around, watch the door. It's practically tailor-made."

She turned to the guard beside her and asked for a spare uniform, then tossed it at Miles's feet.

"There you go. Put it on. The investment bank handling our IPO is sending people tomorrow for pre-listing due diligence. Behave yourself. Don't embarrass us."

Miles looked at the uniform on the ground. He didn't move.

Olympia didn't seem satisfied.

She pulled out her phone, aimed it at him and the crumpled uniform at his feet, and snapped a photo.

Then, right in front of him, she posted it to social media.

The caption read:

"The right person for the right job. Hopefully some people can finally figure out where they belong."

Miles watched her silhouette disappear behind the glass doors. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the uniform.