The blinds in the office windows were drawn shut, and slivers of light sliced through the half-darkness, dust motes swirling like gold in the air above the expensive carpet.
“Lena, weve known each other for years,” Igors voice was soft, almost syrupy. “Youre a smart woman. You understand.”
Elena studied her former bosshis manicured hands resting on the polished desk. She didnt understand. Just that morning, shed been leading a strategy meeting, assigning tasks, mapping out the next quarter.
“I understand we delivered the project ahead of schedule, Igor. I understand the client sent a thank-you letter. What exactly am I supposed to understand?”
He leaned back in his heavy leather chair, which creaked with self-satisfaction.
“The project was flawless. Your work always is. But the companys moving to the next level. We need fresh blood, you see? Energy. Drive. Young minds who think in different terms.”
Something inside her hardened into a cold, heavy weight. Shed given this firm twenty years of her life. Shed been here when those “young minds” were still in school. Shed built the department they now called their best.
“Different terms?” Her voice was eerily steady. “Like terms where experience and strategy dont matter?”
Igor sighed, feigning cosmic sorrow.
“Dont be like that. Your experience is invaluable. Its our foundation. But you build new structures on old foundationswith new technology. That requires different engineers.”
His words were slippery, evasive. It annoyed her more than outright cruelty. He was framing her as some museum pieceprecious, but obsolete.
“We cant just let you go without compensation,” he said, sliding a folder forward. “Five months salary. A glowing reference. Ill write it myself. For someone like you, this is just a chance to rest, find something quieter.”
“Quieter.” Code for “retirement.”
“You know, Igor,” she said, rising slowly, palms pressed to the desk. “Once, you came to my department as an intern. Bright-eyed, empty-pocketed. I taught you everything.”
His smile twitched.
“And Im endlessly grateful, Lena. Truly. But business is business. Not charity. Sometimes hard decisions move us forward. Old baggage just drags you down.”
She nodded, already tuning him out. Her gaze drifted past him to the team photo on the wallthree years ago, after theyd won a major bid. She was front and centre, laughing. Igor hovered at the edge, barely in frame.
“I see. The paperworks with HR?”
“Yes. Everythings ready.”
She turned and left without looking back. She felt his gaze on herrelieved, faintly guilty. It meant nothing now.
In the corridor, colleagues avoided eye contact or pretended to be busy. Only young Annie, whom shed hired six months ago, watched her with genuine sympathy. Elena gave her the faintest smile in return.
Her heels clicked sharply against the floor. This didnt feel like defeat. More like the start of something unfamiliar. Something she hadnt yet grasped.
The first week, she cleaned out closetstossing old papers, unworn clothes, the accumulated debris of a career. It kept her from thinking.
Her son, Christopher, watched silently. He never offered empty comfort. Just came by after work with groceries, shared dinner.
“Mum, Ive got a logistics problem,” he said one evening. “A suppliers overcharging. Cant tell if its market rate or if hes exploiting us as a startup.”
Christopher was developing some complex IT platform for warehouses. Shed never paid much attention, assuming it was just youthful enthusiasm.
“Show me the contract.”
Twenty minutes later, she set the tablet down.
“Hes inflated it by thirty percent. And these three clauses lock you into dependency. Call Trans-Logic. Ask for Michaelsay I sent you. Hell give you real numbers.”
Christopher blinked. Half an hour later, he stared at her, stunned.
“Mum they offered twice the terms. Said theyd give us a first-year discount for your contact. Who even are you?”
She smiled. For the first time in months.
“Just someone with old baggage.”
Everything changed after that. Christopher brought her not just groceries, but business problemscontracts, financial models, market strategies. She fell into it without realizing.
No more closet-clearing. Just her laptop, competitor analysis, finding weak spots in her sons venture. The “invaluable experience” Igor had discarded was suddenly vital.
Two months later, Christopher arrived with his partnerstwo bearded men in stretched T-shirts. They crowded her small kitchen as she dismantled their business model in three hours.
“Elena,” one finally said, “were blind kittens without you. Christopher was right. We need someone like you.”
“Were offering you COO,” Christopher said. “With equity.”
She studied themtheir hopeful, respectful faces. Not pity, like Annies. Not guilty relief, like Igors. Respect.
“Ill think about it,” she said, though she already knew.
Six months later, their startup leased a central London office. Thirty employees. Major contracts.
Elena sat in her own officebright, spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows. Deputy CEO. Christophers right hand.
Sometimes Annie called from the old job. The new “young, dynamic” manager had botched two projects. Key staff had quit. Igor was unraveling.
“Everyone says the old guard was more reliable,” Annie sighed. “They all say he shouldnt have”
“Everything happens for a reason,” Elena replied, watching growth charts on her screen.
She felt no gloating. Just cold satisfaction. Her story wasnt over. This was only Act Two.
News of her former companys bankruptcy wasnt a shock. Shed seen it coming in reports old contacts sent out of curiosity.
Igors firm, betting on “young and bold,” lost old clients and failed to attract new ones. Their “drive” was a soap bubbleno foundation of experience.
One day, HR placed a file on her desk.
“Final candidate for Development Director. Passed all rounds. Christopher wants your final say.”
She nodded. “Send him in at eleven.”
She opened the CV ten minutes before the interview. The name was familiar. *Igor Samsonov.*
Her eyes skimmed the lines. CEO, *Innovate Solutions.* Last job: “Project discontinuation.” A elegant euphemism for bankruptcy.
Her heart didnt flutter. No anger, no thirst for revenge. Just icy curiosity.
At eleven sharp, the man entered. Aged, dull-eyed, exhaustion poorly concealed beneath an ill-fitting suit.
“Good morning,” he said, extending a hand. “Igor.”
“Elena,” she replied, gesturing to the chair.
He sat, scanning the office with envy. He didnt recognize her. A new haircut, sharp tailoring, but mostly the gazecalm, assured.
“So, Igor,” she began, “why are you right for us?”
He launched into rehearsed answers, citing past projects*their* projectsas his sole achievements. She listened silently.
“Young teams are the future,” he finished. “They just need guidance.”
“Interesting,” she said. “But guidance requires experience. And experience is just old baggage, isnt it? Doesnt that drag you down?”
He stiffened. Recognition dawned slowlyconfusion, shock, then shame flooding his cheeks.
“Lena? Elena?”
“Good morning, Igor.” Her voice was gentle. “Now that were acquainted, lets continue. What happened to your company?”
He crumpled.
“The market competition”
“No. You discarded the people who were your foundation. You said, We dont need the old ones. Remember? You hired young and energeticthey destroyed what took years to build.”
No malice. Just fact.
“Our company values experience. Energy without wisdom is chaos. Wisdom without new ideas is stagnation. We balance both. Youre a man of extremes. You wouldnt fit here.”
She stood. The interview was over.
“ButI need this job,” he whispered.
“Im sorry. Were not a charity.” She echoed his own words. “Its just business.”
She felt no triumph. Just closure. Not because shed won, but because shed built a future with no room for men like him.
That evening, Christopher leaned in her doorway.
“HR said you declined him. Knew you would. Harsh.”
She met his eyes.
“Harsh is tossing someone after twenty years because theyre old. I made a business decision. Hed have been useless. His philosophy destroys.”
“Youre right,” he admitted. “But I couldnt have done it. Looking him in the eye.”
“You could,” she said firmly. “When its your lifes work and people who believe in you, you learn to make hard calls. As long as theyre honest. Mine was.”
She didnt tell him shed sat frozen for ten minutes
