Brandon stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, adjusting his tie for the third time. The face looking back at him was twenty years younger, unmarked by the deep lines of stress and defeat that had defined his features just yesterday. But behind those youthful eyes was a mind sharpened by two decades of corporate warfare.
He had a plan. It was risky, potentially catastrophic, but it was better than slowly dying in Victoria's gilded cage. The first step required walking directly into the lion's den.
Carter Technologies occupied three floors of a gleaming downtown high-rise. Brandon had helped design half the security systems in the building, had optimized their server infrastructure, had even suggested the layout of the executive floor. Now he stood in the elevator, watching the numbers climb toward Richard Carter's corner office.
Victoria's father had always been an imposing man—tall, silver-haired, with the kind of presence that made boardrooms fall silent. Even at twenty-four, Brandon had found him intimidating. But that was before Brandon had learned that intimidation was just another tool, like a code compiler or a database query.
"Brandon!" Richard's secretary, Mrs. Chen, looked up with surprise. "You're early for your review meeting."
"Actually, I need to speak with Mr. Carter about something else. Is he available?"
Richard's door was already opening. "Brandon? What brings you up here? Don't tell me there's another crisis with the Henderson project."
"No sir. The prototype will be ready on schedule." Brandon stepped into the familiar office, taking in the mahogany furniture and wall of awards—many of which should have had his name on them. "I need to discuss my employment status."
Richard gestured to the chair across from his massive desk. "Employment status? Has someone been headhunting you? Because I can assure you, no one in this city will match what we're offering."
Brandon sat down, keeping his expression neutral. "I'd like to resign, Mr. Carter."
The words hung in the air like a dropped bomb. Richard's coffee mug stopped halfway to his lips, his eyes narrowing with the focus of a predator spotting wounded prey.
"Resign." The word came out flat, emotionless. "After everything this family has done for you? After Victoria married you? After I gave you opportunities that most programmers only dream of?"
"I'm grateful for everything you've provided," Brandon replied, each word carefully measured. "But I want to explore other opportunities. I don't want to be limited to one company my entire career."
Richard set down his coffee with deliberate care. "Limited? Brandon, you're part of this family now. This isn't about limitations—it's about loyalty. And let me remind you of your contractual obligations."
Here it comes, Brandon thought. The golden handcuffs.
"Five hundred thousand dollars in training costs, development resources, and proprietary knowledge compensation," Richard continued. "That's what you'd owe us if you breach your employment contract. Can you afford that on a programmer's salary?"
Brandon had expected this. In his original timeline, this conversation had never happened—he'd been too grateful, too intimidated, too desperate to belong. But now he had twenty years of hindsight and nothing left to lose.
"I'll pay it," he said simply. "I just need some time to arrange the financing."
For the first time in Brandon's memory, Richard Carter looked genuinely shocked. He picked up his phone without breaking eye contact.
"Victoria? I need you in my office immediately."
The wait felt eternal. Brandon could hear Richard's breathing, could see the wheels turning behind those calculating eyes. Finally, Victoria's heels clicked against the marble floor outside.
She entered like she owned the building—which, technically, she would someday. Her green eyes swept from her father to Brandon, reading the tension in the room with predatory efficiency.
"What's going on?" she asked, settling into the chair beside Brandon with fluid grace.
"Your husband wants to quit," Richard said bluntly. "Says he'll pay the breach penalty."
Victoria's carefully constructed mask of composure slipped for just a moment. Brandon saw genuine surprise flicker across her features before that familiar calculating smile spread across her lips.
"Really?" She turned to study Brandon as if seeing him for the first time. "That's... interesting."
"Interesting?" Richard's voice rose slightly. "Victoria, this boy owes us half a million dollars!"
"I know exactly what he owes us, Daddy." Victoria's smile widened. "And I think we should let him go."
Now it was Richard's turn to look stunned. "What?"
"Think about it," Victoria said, her voice taking on the tone she used when explaining a particularly complex business strategy. "Brandon thinks he can make it out there in the real world. Let him try. When he fails—and he will fail—he'll come crawling back. Then we can restructure his contract to be even more... beneficial to us."
Brandon felt a chill run down his spine. Even knowing what she was, hearing her casual cruelty still had the power to shock him.
Richard was nodding slowly, beginning to see the logic. "And if by some miracle he doesn't fail?"
"Then all his innovations still belong to us under the intellectual property clauses," Victoria replied smoothly. "Either way, we win. This will be a valuable learning experience for Brandon."
The way she said his name—like he was a pet who'd forgotten his place—made Brandon's jaw clench. But he kept his expression neutral, playing the part of the naive young man they expected him to be.
"Brandon," Richard called, "step outside for a moment. I need to discuss this with my daughter."
Brandon stood and walked to the outer office, but he didn't need to eavesdrop. He knew exactly what they were discussing. Victoria was painting him as a foolish child who needed to learn his place through hard experience. She was probably already planning how to sabotage his job search, how to isolate him professionally until he had no choice but to return.
In his original timeline, she wouldn't have needed to. He'd never had the courage to leave.
Twenty minutes later, he was called back in. Richard's expression had shifted from anger to predatory satisfaction.
"We've decided to accept your resignation," Richard announced. "You'll need to sign several non-disclosure agreements regarding proprietary technology and business practices. And you have exactly three months to pay the breach penalty. If you can't make the payment, you'll return to work here under a revised contract."
"Understood," Brandon replied.
"I hope you know what you're doing, son," Richard added, though his tone suggested he hoped exactly the opposite.
Brandon shook the older man's hand, feeling the subtle threat in his grip. "I do."
---
"You WHAT?"
Margaret's voice could have shattered crystal. Brandon had barely walked through the front door before his mother-in-law descended on him like an avenging angel.
"I resigned from Carter Technologies," he repeated, setting down his briefcase.
"Are you completely out of your mind?" Margaret paced the living room, her hands fluttering with agitation. "Do you have any idea what Richard is capable of when someone crosses him? What Victoria will do to you?"
"I have some idea, yes."
"Then why would you—" Margaret stopped mid-sentence, studying his face. "You're serious about this. You're really going to leave."
"I am."
Something in his tone must have convinced her. Margaret sank into her favorite armchair, looking suddenly older. "Good."
"I'm sorry?"
"I said good." Margaret's voice was firm despite the tears gathering in her eyes. "You should leave Victoria. You should divorce her and run as far away from this family as you possibly can."
Brandon felt his carefully constructed composure crack. "Margaret..."
"She's poison, Brandon. My daughter is absolute poison, and I failed her as a mother. I should have stopped this marriage, should have warned you, but I was a coward." Margaret wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Richard destroyed her capacity for love years ago, and now she's going to destroy you."
"I won't let that happen," Brandon said quietly.
Margaret looked up at him with something that might have been hope. "Then you really are going to divorce her?"
"Yes."
"Good," she repeated, firmer this time. "Do it soon, before she realizes what you're planning."
---
Two weeks later, Brandon's optimism was wearing thin. He'd submitted applications to seventeen different tech companies in the city. Seventeen rejections, most without even the courtesy of an interview.
The pattern was always the same: initial interest based on his resume and portfolio, followed by sudden radio silence after what he could only assume were background checks or phone calls. The Carter family's influence ran deep in the local tech scene.
Brandon sat in a coffee shop, laptop open, scrolling through job boards with increasing desperation. His savings wouldn't last long, and he had less than two and a half months to come up with half a million dollars. Maybe Victoria was right. Maybe he was being foolishly naive.
Then he saw it: a posting for a senior software engineer position at Nexus Systems.
Brandon's heart began to race. Nexus Systems—how had he forgotten? In his original timeline, Nexus would become Carter Technologies' biggest rival. Through the 2010s and 2020s, they'd engage in corporate warfare that would define Silicon Valley. Both companies would thrive, but Carter Technologies would eventually pull ahead through a series of shady business practices, corporate espionage, and strategic lawsuits that bordered on criminal.
But that was the future. Right now, in 2012, Nexus was smaller, hungrier, and completely independent from the Carter family sphere of influence. They were also located in the one part of the city where Richard's reach was limited.
Brandon's fingers flew across the keyboard, crafting a cover letter that highlighted his innovations without mentioning his former employer's proprietary claims. He attached his portfolio, carefully edited to remove any Carter Technologies branding.
As he hit 'send,' Brandon felt something he hadn't experienced in years: hope.
His phone buzzed with a text from Victoria: "How's the job hunt going, darling? Ready to come home yet?"
Brandon deleted the message without responding. He had work to do.