Chapter 2

Back in my tiny studio apartment, the first thing I did was leave all the company WhatsApp groups.

Then I blocked Mr. Lewis, Mia from HR, and added their phone numbers to my blacklist.

After that, I unplugged my phone charger and held down the power button.

The moment the screen went black, a sudden, surreal quiet washed over the room.

For the first time in six months, I was lying in bed at three in the afternoon.

With the blackout curtains drawn, the only sound was my own steady breathing.

I closed my eyes, but sleep didn't come right away.

My mind drifted back to six months ago. Fresh out of college, armed with a degree in architecture and a fire in my belly, I had walked into that firm for an interview.

Mr. Lewis had painted a gorgeous picture back then. He claimed the firm was expanding rapidly, desperately needing driven, creative young blood like me.

He promised that although the starting pay was modest, hitting milestones would double my salary once I transitioned to full-time.

He talked about how the company culture was tight-knit, that we were "like a family."

I was young, naive, and desperate for a job. I actually bought into his corporate buzzwords.

During those six months, I was the first to arrive and the last to leave.

While others browsed TikTok, watched YouTube, or gossiped, I was glued to my screen, drafting blueprints and polishing specs.

Mr. Lewis dumped the nastiest, most grueling assignments on me, claiming it was "to build my endurance." In truth, he was just saddling me with the messes no one else would touch.

The commercial complex project that won the bid last week was originally assigned to a senior architect.

But after two failed pitches that got rejected by the client, Mr. Lewis threw the hot potato onto my plate.

"Chris, this is your shot to prove yourself," he had said, patting my shoulder.

And I believed him. I really did.

During those three days and three nights, I barely blinked.

I pounded twelve cans of Red Bull, ordered takeout seven times, and went through seventeen revisions.

Every single detail in that final pitch had been scrutinized down to the millimeter.

From load-bearing structures to facade materials, from foot-traffic circulation to energy-saving models, I had even put together a complete cost-analysis sheet.

When news broke that we won the bid, Mr. Lewis popped champagne in the conference room.

He told everyone it was a triumph of "collective brilliance," never once mentioning my name.

I should have recognized the writing on the wall right then.

Looking back, the signs had been there all along.

No formal contract, withholding wages, no benefits paperwork.

Mr. Lewis never intended to make me full-time.

He just wanted to milk every ounce of value out of me at zero cost before tossing me aside.

Too bad he forgot one crucial detail.

I, Chris, was never anyone's doormat.

Before wiping those project files from the company desktop, I took two precautions.

First, I backed up every raw CAD file and 3D render to my personal encrypted cloud drive.

Second, inside the final construction blueprints submitted to the client, I hid a few subtle Easter eggs that only I would ever recognize.

These glitches wouldn't compromise structural integrity; they technically satisfied local building codes.

However, once the complex went into operation, they would trigger an endless stream of bizarre, frustrating logistical nightmares.

Harmless on paper, but absolute hell for any design team trying to fix them down the line.

They were completely invisible on surface-level plan checks and would only reveal themselves during functional testing.

And the only way to unravel that web was to bring back the original architect: me.

It wasn't mindless revenge. It was just a small wake-up call.

A reminder to Mr. Lewis that there's no such thing as a free lunch.

And that some people aren't meant to be pushed around.

With that settled in my mind, exhaustion finally overtook me.

I buried my face in the pillow and let sleep pull me under.

My last thought before drifting off was:

*See you around, Mr. Lewis.*