Chapter 1The Core Developer's Counterattack

"Fiona, you can take your maternity leave, but you absolutely must be present for the project presentation on Monday."

Monday?

That would be exactly seven days after my C-section.

I lay in the bed at the postpartum care center, my incision still seeping blood. On the other end of the phone was my department manager, David Reynolds.

"Don't worry, just show your face to prove you were involved in the project."

He made it sound so effortless.

But I wrote that project—from the very first line of code to the final algorithm iteration.

What did he mean by "prove I was involved"?

I stayed silent, then heard him add, "Chloe can't handle it alone. The investors specifically asked to see the core developer."

Chloe?

The same Chloe who couldn't even read a basic code framework?

A sudden, sharp laugh escaped me.

"Fine. I'll go."

I hung up and logged into the company intranet. In the project team roster, my name had been quietly shuffled to the very last line.

Alright.

If they want to play games, let's play in the big leagues.

* * *

The nurse at the postpartum center blocked the door, looking at me like I was insane.

"Ms. Hayes, you had a C-section a week ago! What if you go out in the wind and your incision tears open?"

I pulled on my coat, zipping it all the way up to my chin.

"If it tears, they can stitch it back up."

With that, I walked out the door.

My husband, Ethan's, car was parked downstairs. Seeing me come down, he immediately threw open his door and ran over.

"Honey, are you really doing this? David is scum, why are you letting him get to you?"

I leaned on his arm, walking slowly toward the car door.

"If I don't go, the project becomes Chloe's."

Ethan frowned. "So what? Worst case, you find a new job—"

"Ethan," I cut him off, "I spent two years on this project. Do you know how many all-nighters I pulled?"

He fell silent.

I continued, "An eighty-million-dollar valuation. The investors are signing the contract next week. And right now, the name under 'Project Lead' is Chloe's."

Eighty million.

The moment those words hung in the air, the car went quiet for a few seconds.

Ethan started the engine without another word.

I leaned back in my seat, waves of dull, throbbing pain radiating from my incision.

My phone buzzed again. It was a text from Chloe.

"Fiona! I heard you're coming today? That's amazing! I'm so nervous doing this alone, and I don't really understand some of the investors' questions..."

She attached a pleading, teary-eyed emoji.

I didn't reply.

Two years ago, when Chloe first joined the company, she didn't even know how to install Python.

I sat with her, line by line, setting up her environment. I held her hand through the documentation.

She called me her mentor and brought me lunch every single day.

I actually thought I had trained a good protégé.

Until I was seven months pregnant and took half a day off for a checkup. When I returned, my desk had been cleared out.

Project documentation, development logs, testing reports—all copied and transferred.

That afternoon, David sent a message to the team chat: Due to personnel adjustments, Chloe will temporarily take over as project lead.

Temporarily.

What a nice, harmless word.

I waddled into David's office with my heavy belly. He smiled warmly and said, "Fiona, just focus on a healthy pregnancy. Chloe has the project handled. When you come back from maternity leave, you'll still be our core developer."

I believed him.

I was an idiot.