Everyone knew how much SEAS meant to me.
My phone buzzed. Mia.
Mia: How was the meeting? Did Richard drop the bomb? Is the company being sold?
I laughed, a short, harsh sound.
Charlie: You have no idea.
Three dots appeared immediately, followed by about a million question marks and exclamation points. Mia texted exactly like she spoke.
I sank into my chair, exhausted.
Charlie: Remember the guy from the bar last night?
Mia: Sex on a stick? How could I forget?
Charlie: His name is Asher Pierce.
The three dots appeared and disappeared several times before:
Mia: Wait. THE Asher Pierce? As in Pierce Construction? Holy shit, Charlie!
Charlie: Yeah. And guess who just bought HydroCore?
Mia: NO. WAY.
Charlie: Way. And he knew exactly who I was last night. The whole time.
Mia: I’m going to need more details but first: are you ok?
Charlie: No. But I will be.
Mia: That’s my girl. Call me later.
I set the phone down and forced myself to breathe. I’d been so stupid. So naive. Thinking there was a genuine connection, that I’d met someone who actually understood my work, who saw me as more than just another engineer to be managed or manipulated.
But sitting in this chair feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to protect SEAS. Nothing about crying was going to change a single thing that had happened today. The only thing I could control was what happened next.
I turned to my computer.
If Pierce Construction now owned HydroCore, I needed to understand exactly what that meant for my project. Every contract, every filing, every internal communication that might tell me where things stood. I just hoped I still had the access, the one thing Richard hadn’t been stingy with.
I logged in and breathed a sigh of relief – looked like no one had revoked my credentials, or revised my access level – at least not yet. I started with the basics—transition documents, the acquisition filings, shareholder communications. Standard corporate takeover paperwork. Nothing alarming.
Then I went deeper. Into the project records. Into Richard’s internal memos.
And that’s when I found it.
Three months ago, Richard had sent an internal memo to the board—not copying me—discussing “alternative paths forward for the SEAS project” and noting “insurmountable obstacles with procurement timelines.”
Insurmountable obstacles. That was news to me. Our testing had been going perfectly. Every demonstration had exceeded benchmarks.
I kept digging. There were emails between Richard and potential clients—polite deflections, bureaucratic language that basically amounted to thanks but no thanks. Contracts I’d been told were “in progress” had never been submitted. Partnerships Richard had promised to pursue had been quietly abandoned.
And he’d known. Had let me keep working toward something he was actively undermining.
“That bastard,” I whispered.
