Chapter 2

At last, the grueling fourteen-day business trip was over.

In just two weeks, my team and I had used brutally aggressive negotiation tactics to force the entire supply chain down by fifteen percent from their floor price.

The signed letter of intent was already locked inside my briefcase.

That two-million-dollar commission check was now only one final internal payment process away.

I loosened my tie and picked up a cup of freshly brewed black coffee.

Before I could even take a sip, the glass door to the sales department swung open.

"Everyone, put down what you're doing and welcome the company's star performer!"

CEO Richard Davis strode in, holding the cigar he never seemed willing to actually light.

His face was plastered with an exaggerated smile, and behind him followed a man in a bright blue custom-tailored suit, his hair slicked down with so much gel it gleamed.

Mason Collins.

Richard walked straight to my desk and dropped a still-wrapped gas station sandwich next to my keyboard.

"Ethan, you've worked hard these past two weeks. I had someone pick up breakfast for you." Richard gave my shoulder a heavy pat, hard enough to feel deliberate. "I read your report. Excellent work. But—"

He changed tone mid-sentence and deliberately raised his voice so everyone in the open office could hear him.

"Given that this project is about to scale exponentially, and to lighten your workload, I've decided to promote Mason to project manager. Starting today, he'll be working alongside you in leading the core business on this project!"

The air froze.

All around us, fingers stopped moving over keyboards as coworkers stared back and forth between Mason and me in disbelief.

Everybody knew what "working alongside" meant in the workplace.

It meant splitting authority—or taking it away.

And Mason was a parachute hire who had been with the company less than three months and hadn't even closed a decent order yet.

I didn't look at the pathetic sandwich, and I showed no anger at all.

I just leaned back in my chair, folded my hands, and looked at Richard.

"Working alongside me?" My tone was calm, but in the quiet office, every word landed hard. "Richard, you know damn well those suppliers in Dallas only follow the schedule I built. Mason can't even recognize half their part numbers. So what exactly is he supposed to handle? Pour my coffee?"

The smile on Richard's face stiffened.

Clearly, he hadn't expected me to push back so bluntly in front of everyone.

"Ethan, don't be so hostile." Richard frowned. "We're a family. Mason has strong people skills. He can help you handle a lot of the messy cross-department coordination and upper-management relationship work. You need to think bigger!"

After saying that, he avoided my eyes and turned away toward his office.

It wasn't until Richard disappeared that Operations Director Sarah Jenkins pushed up her black-rimmed glasses and hurried over to my desk.

"Ethan, are you out of your mind? Richard's slicing off a piece of your pie right in front of everyone." Lowering her voice, Sarah handed me a data report and murmured behind the cover of the document, "While you were gone these past two weeks, Mason was in the boss's office every single day. Be careful. That guy's a vulture."

"I know." I glanced at the report and let out a cold snort. "But as long as I control the suppliers, he's nothing but window dressing."

Just then, a strong cloud of cologne drifted over.

Mason walked up to me with a smile pasted all over his face. He carried himself with studied humility, even pulling over a chair on his own and sitting down beside me with a slight hunch.

"Ethan, I get how you feel right now." Mason lowered his voice and spoke in a confidential tone. "Honestly, I pushed back hard when Richard brought it up in the office earlier. I know my place. You nearly killed yourself landing this deal. What right do I have to be a manager?"

I looked at his humble expression and said nothing, waiting for the rest.

"I'm just here to support you. Filing paperwork, running errands, putting together slide decks—leave all the dirty work to me." Mason rubbed his hands together and smiled like an eager new hire desperate to learn. "I'm going to need your guidance going forward. You eat the meat—if I get a little soup at the end, I'll be more than grateful."

There was nothing obviously wrong with the way he lowered himself.

For someone like me, who valued efficiency above all else, if he really was content to be a glorified assistant handling the grunt work, then he wasn't impossible to tolerate.

"If you really want to learn," I said, opening the desk drawer and pulling out a thick stack of travel reimbursement paperwork, "then start by helping the team."

In that stack, mixed in with the high hotel and entertainment expenses from the past two weeks, the document sitting right on top was the same one-thousand-dollar flight reimbursement Linda from Finance had maliciously rejected yesterday.

I was just about to stand up and go to the finance office myself to pressure Linda when Mason moved fast and pressed a hand down over the stack.

"Ethan, if you go to Finance, you're just going to end up arguing with Linda. That'll only make things uglier." Mason smoothly claimed the paperwork for himself and patted his chest. "Leave this little thing to me. Linda and I get along pretty well. I'll get it reimbursed for you myself and make sure every cent lands in your account. You go focus on the schedule—that's what matters most."

I stared at him for a few seconds.

At the very least, anyone willing to voluntarily take on the dirty work of dealing with disgusting Finance earned a slight improvement in my opinion of him in that moment.

A leader did need subordinates specifically for handling unpleasant tasks.

"Fine." I let go and said flatly, "Just remember—no core project data gets sent out, and nothing gets viewed without my authorization."

"Absolutely understood!" Mason replied. Then he turned and headed for the finance office with the stack of paperwork in his arms.