They Stole My Stock Options, So I Tanked Their Billion-Dollar Deal

Monday, seven-thirty. I showed up at the factory gate with my toolbox.

A red banner hung over the door celebrating the launch of the new production line. Not one word of it had anything to do with me.

I checked my voice recorder, confirmed it was working, tucked it into my pocket, and walked in.

Kevin was already waiting by the control console, three slouching young guys beside him. I knew all of them. Every one was a relative of his.

When he saw me, he nudged Leo, who immediately shoved a document in my face.

"This is the training agreement you signed before you went abroad. If you fail this assessment, on top of losing your stock options, you'll owe $500,000 in sponsorship costs, plus a year's worth of lost-labor damages."

I scanned the signature at the bottom, and my fingers went still.

That's when it came back to me: the day I flew out, a year ago. Nora had suddenly told me she'd found a resale apartment going for a discount, the place she wanted us to move into once we got married, and on my very last day in the country she'd handed me a purchase authorization to sign.

I trusted her back then. I never noticed there was a second document buried in that stack.

While I was thinking it over, Nora came clicking over in her heels, set a stack of printouts on the console, and looked at me without a flicker of feeling, like I was a stranger.

"Ethan, this is the mentoring agreement. You guarantee all three new hires can work independently in one month, or it counts as a failed assessment and you pay out under the training agreement."

Before she left, she couldn't resist one more line.

"Consider this a test, and a show of the company's trust in you. I hope you won't let the company down."

Kevin wore a smug grin.

"Ethan, stock options aren't handed out to just anyone. And not every stray off the street gets to be a shareholder. Give it up now, while you still can. You've put in ten years here, not much to show for it but plenty of sweat, so if you drop the reward and take a job on the floor, I can ask the company to let you pay the penalty off in installments."

I didn't take the pen Nora was holding out. I looked straight at Kevin.

"Kevin, I'll sign. But two things have to be confirmed first."

I paused.

"One, during the mentoring period, do I have full authority over how it's run? Two, do the trainees cooperate without conditions and follow my instructions?"

Kevin let out a scornful little laugh, not taking me seriously at all.

"Won't even take the out I'm handing you? Fine. This month, you call the shots. Let's see what you can pull off."

Nora shook the pen at me impatiently, urging me to hurry up and sign.

I still didn't take it.

"Then add those two clauses in. If it's an agreement, let's treat it like one."

Once Kevin nodded, Nora grudgingly wrote them in.

Only after I'd confirmed the terms were correct did I pick up the pen and sign my name.

I put the agreement away and slapped down the schedule I'd stayed up all night putting together.

[5 a.m., theory review. Morning, hands-on drills.]

[Noon, break. 12:30, simulated troubleshooting.]

[6 p.m., break. 6:30, review exam. Ends at 1 a.m.]

Twenty hours a day. No days off, all month.

Kevin's cousin Leo blew up on the spot.

"Ethan, are you out of your mind? Four hours of rest a day? Who could survive that?"

I waved my hand.

"You did the math wrong. There are two half-hour meal breaks in there, so that's five hours of rest a day. Plenty."

My tone was flat, like I was talking about something that didn't matter at all.

Leo grabbed Kevin's arm.

"Kev, he's obviously just settling a score with us!"

But I didn't give Kevin the chance to speak.

"Kevin, do you want to change the agreement we just signed?"

Kevin choked on that. All he could do was shoot Leo a glare.

"It's one month. Just grit your teeth and get through it."

Then he leaned close to Leo's ear and dropped his voice, but I heard him clearly.

"Just hang in there. Once the time's up, watch how I deal with him."

I couldn't help smiling.

One month. We'd see who dealt with whom.