Chapter 3

Sloane's POV

The first few days after cutting overtime pay, something shifts across the team in a way that's almost strange to watch.

Madison and the other younger interns are still riding the high of what they think was a win. By five-fifty every afternoon, they're already packed up and lined up by the door. Madison even posts three times in one day, photos of the building at sunset, captions reading: "no more forced overtime. clocking out on time and the air literally tastes different."

It doesn't last.

End of the month, payroll sends out estimated pay stubs for the following period. What ripples across the floor is a collective sharp intake of breath.

Without the overtime, take-home pay is down by almost a third.

Greg and Donna, both carrying mortgages and car payments, stare at their numbers like they've swallowed something awful.

But they can't come to me about it. This was what they wanted. So they take it out everywhere else instead.

Right on schedule, the company's annual 360 review rolls around. It's anonymous, every direct report rating their manager.

I get the lowest score of any mid-level manager in the entire company. No surprise there.

The summary HR sends over is filled with exactly what you'd expect: "tyrant," "power trip," "forcing people out by cutting pay," "no empathy whatsoever."

I read through it. Feel nothing. Almost want to laugh.

That afternoon, the boss calls me up to his corner office on the top floor.

Thirty years in this industry, and it shows. He leans back, lights a cigar, watches me through the smoke.

"Sloane. I saw your 360 numbers."

"I figured you would." I meet his eyes without flinching.

"You're sharp. You're one of the best I've got. Last quarter, your team brought in forty percent of total company revenue. That doesn't go unnoticed."

"But you're an idealist when it comes to managing people. You trust too much. You want everyone to like you. In this business, being too nice isn't a virtue. It's a liability."

I let a beat pass. "You're right."

He nods, satisfied. "I think you already know that now. We just landed a major overseas acquisition project. Big budget, broad authority. I want you running it. As for your current team…"

"I'd recommend Preston Vance." I don't hesitate.

He raises an eyebrow, something almost amused in his expression. "Preston? You'd really hand off a team you built yourself?"

I smile, and there's nothing warm in it. "They're big fans of his. I'm sure he'll make them feel right at home."

He laughs, loud and genuine. "Alright. We'll do it your way."

The next morning, I walk Preston Vance into the team's office.

Preston in a well-fitted suit, thin-framed glasses, that easy smile he never seems to drop.

I look out at the faces in front of me and clap once to get their attention.

"Two things. First, due to a shift in company strategy, I'm stepping down as team lead and moving over to the newly formed international division. Second, starting today, this team is merging with Mr. Vance's, and he'll be taking over."

The room erupts.

After a beat of stunned silence, Madison is the first to crack. Her smile spreads so fast she can barely contain it. If I weren't standing right there, she'd probably be out of her chair.

Greg and Donna exhale like they've been holding their breath for weeks. They exchange a look that says everything: finally.

As far as they're concerned, the stingy, tight-fisted boss is gone, and their dream manager just walked in to replace her.

"Alright, settle down." Preston steps forward, smile easy and warm.

"Really glad to be joining the team. I'm big on two things: fairness and results."

"So to get everyone up to speed on how we do things, we're rolling out our standard management structure starting today."

He pauses, eyes moving across all those eager faces.

"First, KPI targets are doubling across the board. Second, we're implementing a stack ranking system. Bottom two performers each month are let go. Severance included, of course."

The air goes out of the room.

Madison's smile freezes before it fully forms and slowly turns into something closer to horror.

Greg's pen hits the floor. His lips are actually trembling.

Preston's smile doesn't move. He glances around the room. "If you're not hitting your numbers, you're out. Anyone have a problem with that? No? Good. Get to work."