Ethan sometimes caught himself wondering if he’d gone too far. But then he’d remember the years of stolen credit, the late nights spent fixing Brad’s errors, and the smirk that followed every undeserved applause. No, he decided. Justice wasn’t cruel, just efficient.
One evening, as the office emptied, Brad appeared at Ethan’s door clutching a manila folder. His usual swagger was gone, replaced by careful deference. “Hey, Ethan,” he began, voice low, “if you need any help with the next board deck… I can run it by you first.”