Chapter 2

A few days later, I was in my office reviewing quarterly reports when Sarah and Emily walked in without knocking. Their confidence was gone, replaced by a thin veil of confusion and annoyance.

"Ethan," Sarah started, her arms crossed. "The access to the deep learning servers is denied. And Mr. Davies isn't responding to our requests for the new quantum chip."

"That's right," I said, not looking up from my screen. "Your access has been revoked."

Emily's soft demeanor hardened. "What do you mean, revoked? We need those resources for the competition. Alex's project depends on them."

"My family's resources are for employees and sponsored students on an approved academic track," I stated calmly. "You deferred your admission to MIT. You are no longer on that track. You chose to pursue a junior developer role. You can use the public resources available to all junior developers."

They stared at me, their expressions shifting from confusion to suspicion. They couldn't understand my sudden compliance followed by this cold, logical withdrawal of support. They expected me to argue, to plead, to try and control them. My quiet acceptance and swift, silent retaliation left them unbalanced.

"Is this because we didn't listen to you?" Emily asked, her voice laced with accusation. "Are you punishing us?"

"This isn't punishment," I said, finally meeting their eyes. "It's a matter of policy. You made a choice. These are the consequences of that choice."

They left, muttering to each other, their suspicion palpable. They didn't believe me. They thought it was a tactic, a way to force them back onto the path I had set for them.

Later that day, I was walking past a small, sound-proofed conference room when I heard their voices, sharp and angry. The door was slightly ajar. I stopped, hidden from view.

"...he's really doing it," Sarah was saying, her tone venomous. "He actually cut us off. The arrogant jerk thinks he can control us."

"He's just trying to make us come crawling back," Emily replied, her voice just as cold. "He's always been like this. So possessive. He thinks because his family paid for things, he owns us. He can't stand that we're interested in someone like Alex and not him."

A wave of bitter disappointment washed over me. I wasn't possessive, I was supportive. I had been their biggest champion. I'd stayed up late helping them debug code, argued with my own father to get them more funding, and celebrated their every success as if it were my own.

"So what's the plan?" Sarah asked. "Alex needs that processing power. We can't let him down."

"We'll play his game for now," Emily said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We'll pretend to be sorry. We'll flatter him, make him think he's won. Maybe I'll even hint that I might reconsider the marriage arrangement with his family. That'll get his attention. Once he restores our access, we'll get what we need for Alex, win the competition, and then dump Ethan and his whole arrogant family for good. He's just a stepping stone."

The words hit me harder than any physical blow. Stepping stone. That's all I was to them. All the years of friendship, mentorship, and support were just a transaction they were ready to void the moment a better opportunity came along. The pain was sharp, but it was quickly followed by a cold, clarifying anger.

I walked away from the door, my mind clear. There would be no more second chances, no more benefit of the doubt. They had revealed their true selves.

I went straight to my desk and sent an email to our entire tech department and to Mr. Davies, the loyal family consultant who had helped me nurture their talents. The directive was simple and absolute: All Miller Corp resources, intellectual property, and personnel support for Sarah and Emily were terminated, effective immediately, with no exceptions. Any attempt by them to gain access was to be reported directly to me.

As I hit send, my mind flashed back through the years. I remembered buying Sarah her first advanced compiler textbook for her birthday when we were just kids. I remembered spending a whole weekend with Emily, helping her build her first functional robotic arm for a science fair. I remembered them coming to me, excited and grateful, when my family offered them the full sponsorship that would change their lives.

And I remembered the subtle shifts. The way their gratitude slowly morphed into expectation, then into entitlement. The way their conversations began to revolve more and more around this new guy, Alex, a junior developer they'd met at a local tech meetup. They spoke of his "raw talent" and "unconventional genius," a narrative they seemed to have constructed together. Their loyalty, once firmly with me and the future we were building, had been quietly transferred to him.

Emily's words echoed in my head. He's just a stepping stone.

Fine, I thought. Let's see how far they can step without the ground beneath their feet.