He Gave My Million-Dollar Bonus to the Intern

The game I led won an International Award and sold for five hundred million.

The company promised a one million dollar bonus.

On payday, the new intern Sophia Evans took the money instead.

Thinking it was an accounting error, I stormed into the CEO's office.

"Ethan, was there a mistake with the bonus?"

Ethan Winston didn't even look up. "Chloe, after thorough investigation, Sophia wrote most of the core code."

"She worked late nights and weekends. What about you?"

"You clock out on time and scroll through your phone. Attitude is everything."

I almost laughed.

"She's just an intern. Does she even understand code?"

"Enough!" Ethan cut me off. "The company's decision is final. I see everyone's performance clearly."

"If you're unhappy, you're free to leave."

He slid a resignation letter across the desk.

My heart turned to ice as I signed it immediately.

Before leaving, I threw out one last remark: "Ethan, next time you have technical issues, ask your hardworking intern Sophia. Don't bother me."

He smirked, unfazed.

"Sure."

----

Whispers followed me through the office.

"Look at her face—black as coal."

"A million dollars, gone. Who wouldn't be furious?"

"Anger won't help. She couldn't keep what she earned. Ethan's right—attitude is everything."

"Exactly. Sophia burns the midnight oil while Chloe leaves on time. She wanted all the credit? Dream on."

A shrill voice chimed in—Olivia Lopez, Sophia's close friend: "She relied on seniority and failed. Serves her right!"

"True. She thought the project would collapse without her, but Sophia's code is even better. Her 'lead developer' title was inflated."

"I heard she kept visiting the hospital last month. Family issues?"

"Please. Everyone has problems. Is she special?"

"This company values dedication. Sophia is the role model."

"Chloe couldn't keep up. Her exit was inevitable."

"Sophia earned that million. It's deserved—a reward for young talent."

"Some people should step aside for the new generation."

Their words dripped with schadenfreude.

They forgot my nine years of all-nighters, technical breakthroughs, and building teams from scratch.

All they saw was my "punctuality" this past month.

Especially Olivia, who once called me her sister. Now she led the chorus.

She ranted about how I was "dead wood" and "virtue does not match position."

Enough.

I stopped, turned, and marched to Olivia's desk.

Mid-sneer, she froze as I spotted her "Company Excellence" mug—a souvenir from last year's big project that I led.

I grabbed it and smashed it on the floor.

CRASH.

Shards flew. The office fell silent.

All whispers and pointed fingers ceased.

Olivia's face flushed, then paled. Her lips trembled, speechless.

I scanned the room. Everyone averted their eyes, suddenly busy.

Without a word, I turned and walked to my private office through the suffocating silence.

Inside, I began packing my belongings.

My fingers brushed an old photo frame—a team picture after our first successful game test.