I Cut My Losses And Left You The Receipt

The email confirming my resignation was barely in my inbox when Sabrina hit the ‘send’ button on her message to the all-hands chat. “Nolan is leaving us,” her text read, tagging every single member of the company. “He’s treating the entire firm to dinner tomorrow night. You all pick the spot.” I froze, phone in hand. The entire firm. Veridian Tech had over a hundred employees, and not a single person had given me a heads-up. The group chat instantly exploded. Hundreds of replies instantly scroll-flashed across the screen. “That new Omakase place, five hundred bucks a head. He won’t be our boss anymore, so why not bleed him dry?” “Seafood feast! Lobster and King Crab! Let’s eat back his project bonus—I heard he cleared a fortune last month!” “He’s already out the door. We have to make this final stab count!” Watching the torrent of messages, my expression didn’t change. I slowly typed in the address for the most exclusive, high-end fine dining spot in the city—The Meridian Penthouse—and hit send. Then I picked up my cell and dialed the travel agent. “I need a ticket to the Maldives. Tomorrow morning. As soon as possible.”

1 By the time I hung up, the group chat was already hysterical over the location I’d dropped. “Holy cow! Nolan is actually going to bankrupt himself!” “He’s been so quiet, but finally, he’s treating us right on his way out? It’s about time.” “Exactly! His commission from those last few mega-deals could cover ten dinners like this!” “@Nolan, what time tomorrow? I’m starting my fast right now!” I ignored the continuous stream of messages, flipped the phone facedown on my desk, and started cleaning out my cubicle. Three years. I’d given this company countless days and nights. I’d bought into the future Sabrina painted for me. “Nolan, you’re the only one who can carry this project…” “Nolan, just a little more effort, darling. It’s for our future…” “Nolan, you are my biggest asset and my greatest hero…” But when I submitted my application for promotion, the only thing I got back was a dismissive, “You need more seasoning.” The next day, the position I bled for was air-dropped to Brock, a golden boy whose spreadsheets looked like abstract art. That was when I knew: my three years of tireless dedication were just a gilded carpet, rolled out to pave the way for the man she actually cared about. And now, they still wanted to set me up. They wanted me to pay out of pocket to feed that venomous couple and a hundred parasitic colleagues who were thrilled to see me fall? Fine. If that’s the game, I wanted every single one of them to remember exactly what that meal tasted like. “Hey, Nolan.” The smarmy voice hit me from behind. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Brock. “I didn’t know you had it in you, man.” He stood there, arms crossed, sizing me up with a fake, condescending grin. “I thought you’d be in Sabrina’s office right now, begging her to withdraw your resignation. Didn’t know you were such a shark.” “The Meridian Penthouse? She took me there once—it’s a mortgage payment on a plate.” I didn’t dignify his words with a response, focusing instead on packing my things, one by one. Being ignored didn’t seem to bother him. He reached out and placed his hand, not heavily but deliberately, on the folder I was organizing. “Hold up, man. Don’t be so hasty. I actually came here about something important.” He kept the phony smile on his face, pushing his laptop toward me with his other hand. The screen showed a disastrously formatted quarterly summary report. “Sabrina needs the department’s consolidated report first thing tomorrow. Just tweak it for me, will you? It’s easy for you.” I glanced at the corporate catastrophe on the screen. “Brock, a reminder: my resignation is final. What you’re asking for is outside the scope of my responsibilities.” The smile on his face dimmed a fraction. “Come on, Nolan. Don’t be like that. I know you’re upset about leaving, but this report impacts the entire department’s review. If it looks sloppy, Sabrina might think you didn’t complete a proper handover, right?” “The handover was confirmed with a signed checklist.” My voice was flat. I pointed out a few glaring, amateur errors in the presentation. “And these are basic mistakes. They have nothing to do with the handover process.” My bluntness finally shattered his facade. “Nolan! What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His voice rose. “I might not be as experienced as you, but Sabrina trusts me now. She gives me the important work, not you…” He grew more agitated. “You don’t like it? Tough. I’m the Project Manager now, and I’m the one who will be by Sabrina’s side later! You’re just a stepping stone for me, man! I don’t need your evaluation of my competence!” Colleagues around us glanced over. I couldn’t be bothered to watch his performance and kept packing. “Time will prove your competence, Brock. It doesn’t require my opinion.” “You—!” He choked on his next word, finger pointed right at my face. “What are you two arguing about?” 2 Sabrina’s irritated voice cut in. Her brow furrowed, but her gaze instantly softened when it hit the agitated Brock. “Baby, what’s wrong? Who’s upsetting you?” “Sabrina…” Brock instantly found his anchor, his face a mask of wounded fury. “I just asked Nolan to look over the report, and he… he insulted me, said I was incompetent, that my work was garbage… He said I stole his spot… I just want to do a good job. I don’t want to disappoint you…” He sounded utterly distraught, as if I had subjected him to some heinous abuse. “Sabrina, am I really useless? Should I not have taken this position? Am I making things difficult for you?” He was, admittedly, a master of gaslighting and revisionist history. Hearing his plea, Sabrina’s frown deepened. She patted Brock’s back reassuringly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re doing great. This position belongs to you, and no one has the right to second-guess that.” She then turned to me, her face hardening, her eyes full of cold reproof. “Nolan, what is your problem? Can’t you leave quietly? Brock was asking for guidance. Even if you don’t help, you don’t get to insult him! Look at how upset he is! You will apologize to him immediately!” Her voice cut clearly through the quiet office area. Everyone looked over, their attention fixed on me, waiting for my reaction. I looked at the couple before me: one a talented liar, the other a willing, biased listener. For three years, similar scenes had ended with my silent retreat. Not today. “Sabrina, I’m not the one who needs to apologize.” My tone was final, my eyes level with hers. Sabrina seemed taken aback by my defiance. She stared at me for a long moment, then lowered her voice. “Nolan, come into my office.” She closed the door, cutting off the outside view. Leaning against her desk, she tried to soften her tone. “Alright, Nolan. It’s just us. Stop being dramatic.” “The dinner tomorrow—that was just a formality. A way for you to save face. I’d never actually let you pay that much.” “I know you’re hurt that Brock got the position. That’s why you impulsively resigned. Look, I’ll bump your salary by fifteen grand a year. How about that?” “You can stay on as Brock’s deputy. We’ll go back to how things were. I’ll value your loyalty, Nolan, and rely on you.” “With your competence, you can keep the projects stable. That keeps the team steady and the company secure.” She squeezed my wrist, her thumb stroking the back of my hand, adopting a posture of concerned patronage. I looked at her face and felt a wave of nausea. I pulled my hand back sharply, the touch feeling like something unclean. “Sabrina, my resignation was a thoroughly considered decision. I am not playing games.” Her practiced smile faltered. Her tone carried a hint of disbelief. “So, you’re telling me you’d rather drop a hundred thousand dollars on a dinner for the whole firm just to spite me?” She scoffed. “Nolan, who taught you accounting? Why would you want to be such a fool?” My voice was flat. “Sabrina, I’ve run the numbers. Some investments, when they’re guaranteed to fail, you just cut your losses.” “Cut your losses?” A muscle twitched in Sabrina’s cheek. She slowly raised a hand to adjust the collar of her suit jacket. “Fine. Very well.” “Since you’re so wealthy, why don’t you do one last good deed?” She leaned forward, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “The quarterly earnings for your biggest project—The Prescott Account—just give the credit to Brock. You’re leaving anyway, so you won’t get the commission. Why not leave a good impression?” 3 I stopped packing and just looked at her familiar face. The last sliver of hope I had held onto—that she might possess a single ounce of decency—shattered. “I spent eight months locking down The Prescott Account.” “The contract was finalized last week, and the first payment hit the accounts yesterday. By company policy, those quarterly earnings belong to me.” The faint smile on Sabrina’s face vanished. “Policy is policy, but people are people.” “Brock is taking over all your clients. If his first quarter looks terrible, how is he going to command respect? You’re leaving. Leave on a high note. It’ll be better for your reputation in the industry.” “Sabrina.” I cut her off, meeting her eyes. “I personally believe my reputation doesn’t require such a costly sacrifice.” My repeated refusal finally ripped away her mask of benevolence. The anger in her voice was barely contained. “Nolan! Don’t push your luck! I’m trying to give you an out! What are you without Veridian? Who in this industry hires a man who torpedoes his relationship with his old firm?” “What I am, I’ll find out after I leave Veridian. I don’t need your concern, Sabrina.” “As for that dinner…” I allowed a small, cold smile to curl my lips. “The address is sent. You set the time.” Sabrina had clearly never been defied by me like this. Her face flashed from red to white. It took her a moment to grind out the words. “Nolan, you have guts! Fine, we’ll see you tomorrow night! I’m eager to see just how generous you can truly be!” When I walked out of the office building, the evening sun was setting. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a new message from Sabrina, again tagging the entire company. “Tomorrow at 6 PM sharp, everyone be there. Bring your families and friends—the more the merrier! Anyone who doesn’t show up is disrespecting Nolan, and disrespecting me! @everyone.” Beneath it was another rapid-fire stream of “Got it,” “Thank you, boss,” and excited emojis. I calmly swiped away the notification. No reply needed. I knew that however high they jumped tonight, they would fall that much harder tomorrow. At six the next morning, I walked through airport security with my suitcase. Sitting at the gate, I saw a self-righteous message pop up from Sabrina. “Nolan, you can still come back now. Apologize to Brock, finalize the Prescott handoff, and I’ll pretend yesterday never happened.” The same arrogant, exasperating tone. I hovered my finger over the screen for a moment, then swiped left and deleted the entire thread. Ten hours later, the plane touched down in Malé. The heavy, humid air of the tropics—salt and sun—hit me like a physical wave. I activated the local SIM card I’d purchased in advance. 4 The red unread numbers on the work group icon kept ticking upward. “Charge! I’m on the way! Eating back all his money tonight!” “I’m stuck in traffic! I’m so anxious—I want to be there early to order the most expensive dish!” “Who’s there already? Snap a picture of the wine list! I heard they have a $10,000 bottle of reserve Bordeaux?” “Screenshotting this! We’re eating him broke tonight!” Brock theatrically posted a mirror selfie. “Just tidying up a little. Can’t embarrass Sabrina.” Sabrina replied with a hug emoji. “You look handsome no matter what you wear, baby.” Below them, a string of “Perfect match” and “Power couple” messages followed. I continued to scroll, an amused expression on my face. “I’m here! Holy crap, this place is legit!” “Where’s Nolan? Has anyone seen Nolan?” “He’s not here yet, right? The lead always makes a dramatic entrance!” “Exactly. Maybe he’s at the bank. Eighty or a hundred thousand—he probably needs a whole briefcase of cash.” Sabrina sent a voice note. Tapping it, I heard her mocking tone. “What’s the rush? Nolan said he’s treating. He’ll show up. Go ahead and order. Get whatever you want. Don’t worry about the price tag today.” “You’re the best, Sabrina!” “I won’t hold back! Waiter, ten orders of the top-grade Kobe beef!” “Lobster! The biggest one you have!” “The wine! That $10,000 bottle—open two of them!” The chat was soon flooded with pictures of dishes: colossal King Crab, artfully arranged sashimi platters… Brock seemed to want more attention, posting a photo on his personal feed of himself and Sabrina clinking wine glasses, the glittering city lights spread out behind them. “Another evening of fine dining with my girl Sabrina. Life is good.” I glanced at my watch. It was four o’clock in the Maldives. Seven PM back home. The last message in the group chat was a direct question from Sabrina. “@Nolan, where are you? The entire company is waiting.” A faint smile touched my lips. I still didn’t reply. After all, the show was just beginning. I walked with my luggage toward the pre-booked ocean-view villa. The phone in my pocket vibrated a few times, but I ignored it. I changed into a comfortable pair of swim trunks, ordered two bottles of iced beer, and only pulled out my phone an hour later, settling into a lounger facing the ocean. By this time, the tone in the group chat had shifted. The food pictures had stopped. They were replaced by anxious inquiries. “What time is it? Is Nolan actually coming?” “Still going straight to voicemail. The phone’s off.” “No way he just stood us up, right?” “Don’t say that! How much is all that food and alcohol going to cost?” “I just discreetly asked the waiter… The current tab is already north of a hundred thousand dollars.” The messages started flying, punctuated with exclamation points. “The waiter just came by again asking who’s paying. He looked really uncomfortable…” “Should we… should we just split it? Let’s settle the bill and leave?” “Split it? A hundred thousand! I don’t even make that in six months!” “Sabrina said we could order whatever we wanted. It should be on her, shouldn’t it…?” The chat quickly devolved into a furious internal squabble and mutual accusations. The focus of the attack was shifting toward Sabrina. I took a long drink of the cold beer a server had just delivered. I took a photo of the stunning ocean view in front of me and dropped it into the group chat. Then I pressed the voice note button and spoke slowly. “My dearest former colleagues. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to dinner.” “Sabrina said you could pick any restaurant. I did. The address was sent. As for who is paying…” I paused for a deliberate second. “You ordered it, you own it.” “Enjoy your meal, everyone.”