“You lot are past it,” they told me when they let me go. But six months later, my old boss turned up at my interview.
The wooden blinds in the office were half-closed, strips of light cutting through the dimness, settling like golden dust on the expensive Persian rug.
“Lena, weve known each other for years,” Igors voice was soft, almost syrupy. “Youre a smart woman. You understand how these things work.”
Helen stared at her former managerat his manicured hands resting on the polished mahogany desk. She didnt understand a thing. Just this morning, shed been leading the team briefing, handing out assignments, planning for the next quarter.
“I understand we delivered the project ahead of schedule, Igor. And that the client sent a thank-you note. What exactly am I meant to understand?”
He leaned back in his overpriced leather chair, which let out a self-satisfied creak.
“The project was brilliant. Your works always been impeccable. But the companys moving in a new direction. We need fresh blood, you see? Energy. Drive. Young lads who think outside the box.”
Helen felt something inside her harden into a cold, heavy weight. Shed given this firm twenty years of her life.
Shed been here when those “young lads” were still in nappies. Shed built the department that was now considered the best in the business.
“Outside the box?” she repeated, her voice eerily calm. “What sort of box, exactly? The one where experience and strategy dont matter?”
Igor sighed, putting on a show of world-weary regret.
“Now, now, theres no need for that. Your experience is invaluable. Its our foundation. But you cant build a modern skyscraper on old foundations. You need new engineers. New vision.”
He was waffling, avoiding the point, and that was somehow worse than outright cruelty.
He was making her sound like some dusty museum piecepriceless, but obsolete.
“We cant just let you walk away,” he continued, flipping open a folder. “Five months salary. A glowing reference. Ill write it myself. For someone of your calibre, this is just a chance to take a breather, find something quieter.”
“Quieter.” Corporate-speak for “retirement.”
“You know, Igor,” Helen pushed herself up slowly, palms flat on the desk. “Once upon a time, you were the intern in my department. All wide-eyed and skint. I taught you everything.”
His smile twitched.
“And Ill always be grateful for that, Lena. Truly. But business is business. This isnt a charity. Sometimes tough calls have to be made to move forward. Dead weight just drags you down.”
She nodded, already tuning him out. Her gaze drifted past him to the framed photo on the walltheir team three years ago, celebrating a major contract win.
She was front and centre, laughing. Igor was half-cropped out at the edge.
“I see,” she said. “The paperworks with HR, then?”
“All sorted.”
She turned and walked out without looking back. She could feel his eyes on herrelieved, slightly guilty. But it didnt matter anymore.
The first week, Helen cleaned out her cupboards. She threw out old files, clothes she hadnt worn in years, the clutter accumulated while she was busy climbing the ladder. It kept her mind off things.
Her son, James, watched in silence. He didnt ask questions or offer empty platitudes. Just showed up every evening after work with groceries and ate dinner with her.
“Mum, Ive hit a snag with the logistics,” he said one night at the kitchen table. “The suppliers jacked up the price, and I cant tell if its market rate or if hes taking the mick because were a startup.”
James ran some overly complicated IT platform for warehouse systems. Helen had never paid much attention, assuming it was just a phase.
“Show me the contract.”
He slid his tablet across. She put on her glasses and skimmed the fine print. Numbers, clauses, legalesethis was her language.
Twenty minutes later, she set it down.
“Hes overcharging by thirty percent. And these three clauses here put you completely at his mercy. Ring up Trans-Logic, ask for Michael, say I sent you. Hell give you real numbers.”
James blinked, made the call. Half an hour later, he looked stunned.
“Mum they offered twice the terms. And said theyd give us a discount for the first yearfor your people. Who even are you?”
Helen smiled. For the first time in months.
“Just someone with a bit of dead weight, apparently.”
From then on, everything changed. James started bringing her more than groceriescontracts, financial models, market strategies. Helen got pulled in without realising.
She wasnt clearing cupboards anymore. She was hunched over her laptop, dissecting competitors, spotting flaws in Jamess plans, offering fixes.
The “invaluable experience” Igor had dismissed was suddenly indispensable.
Two months later, James didnt come alone. Two blokes in crumpled T-shirts and impressive beards followed him into her modest kitchen. For three hours, Helen took their business apart and put it back together better.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” one finally said, “were like blind kittens without you. James was right. We need someone like you on board.”
“Wed like to offer you the COO role,” James said seriously. “With equity.”
Helen looked at her sonat his grown-up, determined facethen at the lads watching her with something like awe. Not pity, like young Annie had. Not guilty relief, like Igor. Respect.
“Ill think about it,” she said, though she already knew the answer.
Six months later, their little startup had an office in the city centre. Thirty employees. Their first big clients.
Helen sat in her own officebright, spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows. She was deputy CEO. Jamess right hand. His secret weapon.
Sometimes Annie from the old job called with updates. How the new “young and dynamic” boss had tanked two projects. How key staff had quit. How Igor was permanently stressed, snapping at everyone.
“People say the old guard was more reliable,” Annie sighed. “Everyone reckons he shouldnt have”
“Everything happens for a reason, Annie,” Helen would say, eyes on the growth charts glowing on her screen.
She didnt feel smug. Just a cool sort of satisfaction. She knew her story wasnt over. This was only the second act.
News of her old firms bankruptcy didnt surprise her. Shed seen it coming in the reports old contacts sent her out of curiosity.
Igors company, betting everything on “young and hungry,” had lost its old clients and failed to attract new ones. Their “drive” had turned out to be all foam, no beer.
One day, HR dropped a CV on Helens desk.
“Final candidate for the Development Director role, Mrs. Whitmore. Cleared all the rounds. James said its your call.”
Helen nodded without looking up.
“Fine. Schedule them for eleven.”
She only opened the file ten minutes before the interview. The name rang a bell. Igor Samsonov.
Former CEO, “Innovate Solutions.”
Last job: “Project discontinuation.” Such a elegant way to say “went bust.”
Her pulse didnt flutter. No anger, no thirst for revenge. Just icy, crystalline curiosity.
At eleven sharp, a man walked in. Older. Eyes dull, movements heavy with poorly hidden exhaustion. His expensive suit hung off him like a sack.
“Good morning,” he said, offering a hand. “Igor.”
“Helen,” she replied, not offering her surname, gesturing to the chair opposite. “Sit.”
He did, eyeing her office with naked envy. He didnt recognise her. In eighteen months, Helen had changed.
New haircut. Sharp new wardrobe. And most of allthe calm, unshakable gaze of someone exactly where they belonged.
“So, Igor,” she began, scanning his CV. “Youre applying for a senior role. Why should we hire you?”
He launched into a rehearsed spiel, name-dropping old projectsthe same ones theyd worked on togetheras if theyd been his doing alone. Helen listened, nodding occasionally.
“…thinking outside the box, understanding trends,” he was saying. “The future belongs to young teamsthey just need the right guidance.”
“Interesting take,” Helen mused. “But guiding takes skill. Experience. And experience, as we know, is just dead weight. Doesnt that drag you down?”
Igor froze. He looked up, really looked at her face. Recognition dawned slowlyconfusion, shock, then cheeks burning with shame.
“Lena? Helen Whitmore?”
“Good morning, Igor,” she said pleasantly. “Now that were acquainted, lets continue. You ran a major firm. What went wrong?”
He crumpled. The act fell
