They Stole My Project , Now the CEO Is Begging Me Back

The open vote for the Cloudridge Estates Luxury Residences project lead was held today.

Kenneth Fletcher: thirteen votes. Me: zero.

Thirteen people in the design department. Not a single one picked me.

Edmund James jabbed his pen against my name on the ballot, pressing hard.

The ink bled into an illegible smear.

"Ronnie, it was a fair vote. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"

The corner of his mouth curled into the kind of smirk that said I run this department, and you know it.

"Fair."

I rolled the word around in my mouth, slow and quiet.

I'd been on the Cloudridge project for a full year, practically living on-site since the day the structural work finished.

A thousand units. Eighteen buildings. Twenty stories each.

I'd climbed every single floor myself.

Seven unit types, a hundred and eight design plans. All mine.

Forty-five firms competing for the bid. I won it.

The $40 million design fee. I negotiated it.

And now it had been handed to an intern who didn't even know the name of the client's contact person.

And he was telling me this was a fair vote?

I looked down at the supplementary agreement Cloudridge had just sent over.

Under "Designated Project Lead," one name was printed: Ronnie Butler.

I let my gaze drift away from the screen.

Quietly, I opened LinkedIn and updated my resume.

"No problem."

……

Edmund looked mildly surprised. He reached over and gave my shoulder a pat.

"Well, well. Designer Butler's really showing some team spirit today. Then again, you've been here nine years. A veteran like you should understand how the company operates. Got to make room for the new blood."

I didn't respond. I turned and walked out of the conference room.

The moment the door swung shut, I caught a glimpse through the glass: Kenneth and Edmund, high-fiving each other.

"Eddie, we finally got rid of that dead weight."

Edmund was trying to keep his composure, but the glee leaked through the door like it couldn't be contained.

"Forty million in design fees, and he was taking all the credit. How was I supposed to do my job as director with him around?"

I turned and walked through the open office. Low murmurs rippled around me as I passed.

"Vote's done? Look at him, wilting like a frost-bitten plant. Guess he lost?"

"Holy crap, forty million in fees, twenty percent commission. That's almost ten million gone. I'd lose my mind too."

"So what if he's upset? He hogged everything. Every project that came through the design department, he'd show his face at the site for five minutes, slap his name on it, and pocket all the credit and the cash. Who does that?"

"Exactly. Meanwhile Kenneth, the new intern, was still at the site at midnight drafting plans. Not like Ronnie, who just sat at his desk all day warming his chair until the cushion fell apart."

Winston Chavez raised his voice deliberately, his tone dripping with spite:

"Isn't he supposed to be some hotshot mid-level designer? Thinks he's above the director, figured the project couldn't survive without him. Bet he never dreamed he'd get voted off. That's hilarious."

"Big deal, mid-level designer. Kenneth has a master's degree, and his father works at the Housing Authority. Getting his senior certification would be a cakewalk for him. His drafts are better than Ronnie's. He could pick up Ronnie's workload without breaking a sweat."

"I think so too. Kenneth's got the talent and the work ethic. He deserves to lead this project."

"Unlike certain people. No real skill, just good at stealing credit. Getting cut was inevitable."

"If I were him, I'd take the hint and leave before they push me out."

Those vicious mouths, every last one of them, spitting out their petty satisfaction and their twisted lies one syllable at a time.

Not a single person remembered how I'd spent the last nine years pulling all-nighters over design plans, sleeping in construction trailers on-site to keep the schedules on track.

These people came from every department: interior finishing, marketing, engineering, materials.

Which one of them hadn't come to me begging for help at some point?

Last week, the finishing team botched their measurements. They dragged me out of bed at two in the morning to renegotiate the design specs with the client.

Yesterday, marketing had a difficult client they couldn't close. I pulled an all-nighter and put together eight separate proposals to land the deal for them.