I Built the Game, They Paid the Intern $10M novel
But when payday arrived, the 0-00 million was handed to the new intern instead.
Stunned, I thought there had been some mistake in accounting, so I stormed straight into the CEOs office.
Mr. Jefferson, was the 0-00 million bonus a mistake? I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Grant Jefferson didnt even bother to look up.
Ms. Sanderson, Ive looked into it, he said coolly. Most of the core code for the game was written by Regina Addison. She worked late into the night and even spent weekends in the officeand what about you? You finish your work, play on your phone, and leave on the dot. Attitude is everything.
I almost laughed, but it was more out of anger than amusement.
Regina is just an intern, I shot back. Does she even know the entire code?
That's enough! Grant cut me off, his voice sharpening as he lifted a hand. The companys decision is final. Ive seen everyones performance, including yours. If youre not happy, you can always find another job.
With that, he tossed a resignation letter onto the desk.
My heart dropped to my stomach, and I signed it right then and there.
Before I left, I turned and threw a final remark over my shoulder.
Mr. Jefferson, if there are any technical issues in the future, go ask Regina, whos always working overtime. Dont bother me, I said, my tone icy.
He chuckled, dismissive.
No problem, he replied.
As I walked past the office area, I could feel the whispers gathering like static.
Look at her, shes out. Her face is as dark as the bottom of a pot, someone muttered.
Tsk, tsk! 0-00 million just like that. Who wouldnt be pissed? another voice chimed in.
Whats the use of being angry? If you cant hold onto it, who can you blame? Mr. Jeffersons right, anyway. Attitude is everything, a third insisted.
Exactly. Regina works late every day. Shes got that dedication. But her? She leaves on time, never a minute late, and still wants to take credit for it. Who gets that kind of deal? a woman scoffed.
Then, a particularly sharp voice cut through the others. It was Zara Carter, who was always hanging around with Regina.
I think shes just relying on her seniority, but it backfired. She got what she deserved, Zara said, almost gloating.
Right? She thought the project couldnt survive without her, but Regina stepped in and wrote even better code! All that talk about her leading development? Total nonsense, another added quickly.
I heard she was at the hospital every day last month. Must be something going on at home, someone whispered.
Pfft, who doesnt have family issues? Is she the only one special? a voice sneered.
The company values dedication. Someone like Regina is the real role model, a colleague pronounced.
She just couldnt keep up anymore. It was bound to happen. She got eliminated, another concluded.
0-00 million to Regina? She earned it, and she deserves it. We need to encourage the younger generation, someone declared.
People like her are getting old. Its time to make way for the new, a final voice said with relish.
Their words dripped with sarcasm and twisted glee over my misfortune, maliciously distorting the facts. It was as though they'd entirely overlooked my nine years of late nights, my consistent solutions to technical problems, and my leadership in growing the team to achieve its goals.
All they noticed was the past month of my 'leaving work on time.'
Especially Zara, who was usually called sis but was now the loudest of all.
She spat venom, claiming I was 'unworthy of my position' and 'just sitting in a role without doing any real work.'
I couldnt take it anymore. I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around, and walked straight to Zara Carters desk. Her face was still fixed in that sneering smile as she continued to rant.
My eyes scanned her desk and landed on a mug that said, 'Company Excellence Award.'
It was a commemorative gift from the company, presented after I led the team to secure a major project the previous year.
Without a word, I grabbed it.
In her stunned gaze, I slammed it onto the floor.
It hit with a violent bang. The sharp sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the office.
The entire open workspace fell into an eerie, stunned silence.
All the whispers and pointed fingers snapped to a halt.
Zaras face swung from red to pale. Her lips trembled, but no words came out.
I gave her a quick, dismissive look, and the others, instantly subdued, lowered their heads, pretending to be occupied with something else.
Without another word, I turned on my heel.
In the suffocating silence, I walked back to my private office, shut the door, and began gathering my personal things.
As I moved, my fingers brushed a slightly worn photo frame on the desk. It held a picture of me and my team after our first successful game test.
Back then, everyone wore genuine smiles, eyes bright with fire.
Now, things had changed.
Gradually, the anger burning in my chest faded into a deeper, heavier sadness.
Nine years. A full nine years. I had dedicated the best years of my life to this company.
How many nights was I the last one to turn off the lights in the office?
How many weekends had I spent in the server room, debugging alone?
How many times did I lead the team through the toughest problems, taking on the most complex tasks myself?
And that gamethe one that won an international award and sold for a sky-high priceits core framework, its original concept, its hardest algorithms and code, wasnt every line earned through my blood, sweat, and tears?
Then, as if fate had been waiting to tip the scales, last month my mom fell critically ill and was hospitalized. The situation was dire.
By then, the main development was complete, and we were in the final phasetedious, yes, but not technically demanding.
I was stretched thin and had to delegate.
The dedicated and timid intern, Regina Addison, approached me and offered to take on more responsibilities, allowing me to focus on my family.
I was grateful and handed her the simpler, repetitive tasks. I even praised her publicly in a department meeting for being proactive and responsible.
I didnt anticipate that the 'simple tasks' I delegated would turn into 'the core of the game' for Grant.
Likewise, I didn't foresee that the overtime I sacrificed to care for my mom would be portrayed as 'evidence' of my 'lack of dedication' and my supposed tendency to 'leave on time.'
Just then, the door to my office eased open, and a familiar figure stepped in.
It was Regina. She felt guilty and uneasy, hesitating as she moved closer.
Avery about the 0-00 million I dont deserve it. This bonus should be yours. I want to return it to you, she said, her voice small.
I paused my packing, not looking up.
Images of Regina at the beginning flickered through my mind, polite and demure with her notebook clutched to her chest. Whenever she ran into a problem, she would slip over to my desk, shy but eager, her eyes bright with a hunger to learn.
Alright, I replied at last. I finally looked up, met Regina's gaze, and took out my phone. Lets do the transfer now. Ill be waiting.
The guilt on her face froze, like someone had hit pause.
A flicker of surprise and irritation flashed in her eyes. She clearly hadnt expected me to be so blunt.
After a brief, stiff pause, she forced a smile.
Avery, I was just being polite. You actually want it? she said, a laugh catching in her throat.
Regina tilted her head, a smile tugging at her mouth. I earned it on merit. Mr. Jefferson saw that. I wrote the core game code, I worked long hours, and I closed the nights. Tell me, what claim do you have on it?
Her eyes, filled with a possessive gleam, drifted across the office as she spoke with obvious satisfaction.
Come to think of it, she added with a smirk, I should thank you for giving up your spot so willingly.
From now on, this will be my private office, Regina announced, chin tipped up.
The smug expression on her face had no resemblance to the modest, soft-spoken intern I remembered.
By ability? I asked, my voice low.
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. You mean your ability to change variable names in parameters I already debugged, reformat my annotations, and then submit neatly organized test cases as if they were core algorithms? Or do you mean the ability to start hammering away at useless lines of code or open a pre-written document whenever Mr. Jefferson happens to walk past your desk?"
My quiet words stung, each one targeting her most sensitive spots.
These were details Id only pieced together in hindsight.
She took advantage of the fact that I was too busy caring for my moms illness to pay close attention. She utilized her position as an intern, despite not having access to the core system, and was exposed to intermediate files and test cases.
In just a month, she carefully created the illusion that shed 'deeply participated' in the project, even 'led' it.
Reginas expression changed. That layer of fake confidence and pride instantly broke, replaced by a bright, embarrassed flush.
Her breathing turned rapid, her composure unraveling.
"Y-Youre lying! she snapped, her voice shrill, her eyes darting with panic.
She couldnt even look me in the eye.
You know better than anyone whether Im making this up, I replied, my tone staying cold. Those so-called core modules you submitted, the ones you claimed to have written yourself? Their low-level function calls and logical structure are identical to the framework I built at the start. You just slapped on a clumsy wrapper with flashy, useless annotations and a decorative layer.
I tilted my head, pressing the point. Would you like me to line up your code with my original designs, side by side, and post it on a tech forum for everyone to admire and dissect?
That broke Regina completely.
Her biggest weakness has always been a shallow technical base.
She cant handle serious scrutiny.
After all, Grant Jefferson didnt understand code. He could be fooled by surface polish.
But the tech worldthe people who live and breathe code?
They see everything.
Right there, Reginas face shifted from red to white, then white to a sickly green. Just then, her eyes caught sight of something: the old photo frame on my desk.
It held a picture of my mom and me, taken during our trip last year.
A flicker crossed her eyes.
Suddenly, with a deliberately casual sweep, she knocked the frame off the desk.
It fell to the floor with a loud crash, shattering glass that scattered everywhere.
Regina lurched a step forward and deliberately brought her foot down, hard, onto the broken glass and the photograph.
Oh no, sorry, Avery. Didnt see it there, she said, feigning innocence.
In that instant, it felt like all the blood in my body rushed to my head.
My palm met her cheek, and the crack of the slap cut through the office.
Reginas head snapped to the side, a vivid red handprint already blooming on her cheek.
Get out! I shouted.
The office door flew open.
Ms. Sanderson, what the hell are you doing?! Grant barked.
Grant Jefferson stood in the doorway, his face dark with anger.
He must have been passing by and caught the scene.
Regina wasted no time. Her inner actress came out instantly as she trembled with just the right amount of hurt and fragility.
Mr. Jefferson, I-I just came to apologize to Avery about the bonus. I didnt know why she suddenly got so angry, and then she just hit me
Avery! Grant snapped. I never thought youd be this petty! The company made its decision about the bonus. Even if youre dissatisfied, thats no excuse for hitting a colleague! Especially when Regina came here in good faith to apologize!
Apologize? I turned to him coldly, pointing at the broken frame on the floor. She smashed a photo of my mom and stepped on it. Thats your idea of an apology?
Grant glanced at the floor, his brows tightening, then smoothing out.
Its just a photo frame, he said dismissively. So it broke, whats the big deal? Is it really worth getting so upset over?"
He then shot me a look, his voice rising. "I think youve lost your mind, all this over a bonus.
Regina, standing off to the side, let out a perfectly timed sniffle, looking even more fragile and helpless.
Mr. Jefferson, please dont blame Avery. Maybe its really my fault. I mustve done something to upset her she murmured, eyes glistening.
Grant looked at her, his anger spiking.
Avery, I gave you a chance. You didnt appreciate it. Now, pack up your things. Get out of the company immediately, he ordered, voice like ice.
Quietly, I picked up the photo and placed the last of my personal belongings into my bag.
The silence and calmness in my actions caught both Grant and Regina off guard. They probably expected me to explode, to argue, to lose my composure.
But I didnt. Instead, I zipped up my bag and walked straight toward the door.
As I passed Grant, I stopped.
Turning slightly, I met his eye, my voice steady and flat. Mr. Jefferson, remember what you said today. I hope you wont regret it. And I hope Regina truly is as competent as shes trying to appear.
Grants brow furrowed, as if he wanted to say something. But I didnt give him the chance. I stepped forward, leaving without looking back.
There was nothing left for me to stay here for.
...
Back at home, my mom, just out of the hospital, was resting on the sofa.
When she saw me get home much earlier than usual and noticed the change in my demeanor, she looked at me with concern.
Whats wrong? Did something happen?
I didnt hide anything. I told her everything about resigning and losing the bonus.
My mom didnt blame me at all. She simply took my hand and gently patted it.
You did right, she said softly. That kind of company isnt worth my precious daughters sacrifice. Your health comes first, and peace of mind is even more important. I still have some savings. Dont rush to find a new job. Take some time to rest.
Her words washed through me like a warm current, easing something tight in my chest.
...
In the days that followed, it felt as though my life was moving at a snail's pace.
In the mornings, I went with my mom to the market, listening to her haggle with effortless skill as we picked the freshest vegetables.
In the afternoons, we'd head to the park, and I'd awkwardly join the older folks practicing yoga, fumbling through the movements.
Afterward, we'd sit on the balcony, sipping herbal tea, watching the leaves drift by, and chatting about family stuff. Time passed by slowly, quietly, and peacefully.
That long-forgotten, steady rhythm started to heal the numb heart Id crushed in the corporate world.
In that rare quiet, the past few years played back in my mind like faded film reels, each frame sharp again.
I remembered the companys hardest early days. To break through the technical barriers of our first game, I led a handful of core game developers and spent three straight months in the office, eating and sleeping there.
When we were wiped out at night, wed spread cardboard under our desks and grab a nap.
In the end, we didnt just solve the problems; we crafted an optimization plan that exceeded expectations, helped the company achieve its first real profit, and built our reputation in the industry.
I also recall an incident where a competitor maliciously attacked our servers, nearly bringing our services to a standstill.
Clients were furious. The system was hanging by a thread.
I stayed awake for forty-eight hours straight, leading the team to trace the attack. Not only did we successfully fend off the assault, but we also identified a loophole on their side, saving the company from huge losses and delivering a decisive counterpunch.
That battle catapulted our reputation in the industry.
And then there was the game that won the international award.
The original idea for the game came from a childhood dream of mine.
It was crafted through countless sleepless nights, facing a screen full of code and data, repeatedly debugging, optimizing, and refining it bit by bit.
The initial rough demo was also tested on my personal computer. Consequently, the core and structure of this game have been associated with my name from the very start.
Over time, these battles helped the company, which began as a small team of just twelve people in a cramped office, gradually grow, becoming stronger and more capable.
Eventually, thanks to that game, we won an international award, our valuation soared, and we stood on the brink of going public.
Meanwhile, the companys founder, Richard Jefferson, was a sharp, forward-thinking middle-aged man who valued me greatly.
He not only placed absolute trust in me at work but also, privately, would often clap me on the shoulder and half-jokingly, half-seriously say to others, If only Grant had half of Averys steadiness and competence. I think, if I ever handed over both him and the company to her, Id finally feel at ease.
At that time, Grant was studying abroad, and we all took those words as the bosss playful remarks.
Even so, that recognition and expectation warmed me deeply, and I felt that all my hard work had been worth it.
But fate had other plans.
Richard Jefferson passed away suddenly due to illness. His son, Grant, who had spent years studying management and art overseas, rushed back to run the company.
At first, he treated me with respect, consulting me on technical decisions. However, somewhere along the way, the atmosphere within the company began to shift.
The management style he introduced, emphasizing 'attitude,' 'dedication,' and 'corporate culture,' gradually replaced the pragmatic, results-driven approach his father had supported.
Now, the polish of a PowerPoint presentation, leaving the lights on at ones workstation after hours, and showing enthusiasm at company team-building eventsthese superficial things seemed more important to him than the technical contributions and project results that his father had valued.
While I stayed focused on the work itself, lost in my pursuit of cleaner code and better systems, I didnt realize how far the tides had turned.
It wasnt until the 0-00 million bonus incident, like a thunderclap, that I was jolted awake.
What Grant needed was not a strong technical leader capable of achieving incredible feats, but a 'role model' who aligned with his management philosophy.
And Regina happened to be exactly what he was looking for.
After a month of rest, I began browsing job boards, updating my rsum, and sending applications to several well-known game companies.
At first, I was confident. With my experience and technical abilities, landing an ideal job shouldnt be difficult.
But most of the rsums I sent out disappeared without a trace.
A few companies invited me for interviews, but after the first round of talks, their attitude suddenly changed. Their words became vague, their smiles polite, and eventually, the conversations fizzled out.
After a few rejections, a former colleague quietly told me the truth:
Avery, its not that your skills arent good. Someone in the industrys been spreading rumors about you, saying youre difficult to work with, that you rely on your seniority and bully the younger ones," he hesitated, lowering his voice. They even say you steal the interns work and that youve hit people. Now, many companies think youre a toxic presence in the industry.
At that moment, everything clicked into place.
This was Grant Jeffersons doing.
Not only had he forced me out of the company, but he was now trying to cut off all my future opportunities.
When my mom noticed the constant frown on my face over the past few days, she asked me for an explanation.
Once I told her the whole story, her face went pale with anger.
She immediately stood up, ready to march out the door.
Im going to confront him! How dare he slander you like this? she exclaimed.
I gently grabbed her hand and held her back.
Mom, dont. Not yet.
I turned to look out the window, my voice calm and steady.
Just about time, I murmured. Very soon, he will come begging me himself.
My mom looked at me, confused, about to speak when my phone suddenly rang on the table.
The caller ID lit up with one name:
[Grant Jefferson]
I hit 'Accept' and switched to speaker mode.
Avery? Grants voice had lost its usual composure; urgency roughened the edges. You need to get to Brighton Tech in Westview City immediately. Its an emergency! The game we sold them hit a major bug during the final presentation. The client is furious. This has to be resolved today!
Behind him, voices rose, keyboards clacked, and the tension mounted.
I waited until he finished his breathless explanation.
Then, unhurried and calm as still water, I spoke. Mr. Jefferson, did you dial the wrong number? Ive already resigned. If the company has technical issues, I believe you should reach out to the one who received the 0-00 million bonus. The one who stays late working overtime every night is Regina, right?
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