Boss called me to his office with human resources. «Mark, after 17 years, we’re eliminating your position…

Sometimes by 20%. Small enough not to raise immediate flags. Large enough to add up.

I pulled up the business registration for Apex Solutions Group. The listed owner was Thomas Wilcox. A quick social media search confirmed what I suspected.

Brian’s brother-in-law. They were siphoning company funds through fake markup on legitimate expenses. I leaned back in my chair, feeling something shift inside me.

Not anger, exactly. Something colder. More focused.

For 17 years, I’d solved problems, fixed systems, protected data. I’d been the reliable one. The steady presence who never caused waves.

And they discarded me like outdated hardware. My phone buzzed with a text from Steven, a junior analyst I’d mentored over the past two years. Sorry about yesterday.

Total BS what they did. Phillips is already moving into your old office. I set the phone down without responding.

The pieces all fit now. Daniel and the CFO needed me gone before anyone could connect the dots on their scheme. They probably thought the evidence would disappear with me.

That I was just some aging tech guy who didn’t understand modern finance. I opened my email and began drafting a message to the board of directors. Then stopped, finger hovering over the send button.

Too direct. Too easy to dismiss as the bitter accusations of a fired employee. I needed leverage.

Precision. A way to expose the fraud that couldn’t be ignored or covered up. I deleted the draft and started making plans.

Tomorrow was Wednesday. Board meeting day. Quarterly financials would be presented.

Bonuses would be approved. Perfect timing. I closed the laptop and walked to the living room window, looking out at the neighborhood where we’d raised our kids and built our life.

For the first time since yesterday, I smiled. Wednesday morning, I sat in my car across the street from Meridian’s headquarters, watching employees stream through the revolving doors. In the passenger seat was my laptop, logged into an email account I’d created years ago for security testing.

One that appeared to come from an internal company domain, but wasn’t tracked in the main directory. At exactly 9.15am, I sent my first move. An email to Daniel with the subject line, financial irregularities, urgent review needed, and a basic summary of what I’d found regarding the Apex payments.

I included just enough detail to be credible, but kept the brother-in-law connection out of it. If Daniel was involved, he’d panic. If he wasn’t, he’d investigate.

Either way, I’d learn something. By 9.45, my phone rang. Daniel’s number.

I let it go to voicemail. His message was terse. Jake, we need to discuss your email immediately.

Call me back. I didn’t. Instead, I drove to a coffee shop, set up my laptop, and waited.

At 10.30, another email appeared. This one from Vanessa in HR. Mr. Wilson, we’ve received concerning communication from you that potentially violates your separation agreement.

Please cease all contact with Meridian employees and remember your confidentiality obligations. Any further communications may result in legal action. So that’s how they were playing it.

Threaten. Dismiss. Isolate.

I hadn’t signed any separation agreement. At noon, I drove to my bank and accessed my safe deposit box. Inside was another backup.

Older, but with critical information I hadn’t included on my regular drives. Among the files were original security protocols I’d designed, including documentation of who had access to what systems and when changes were made. According to these records, Brian Wilcox had personally requested expanded access to the financial approval systems 18 months ago, right when the apex payments began.

Back home, I found three more missed calls. Daniel, Vanessa, and now Jason Phillips. I hadn’t expected him to get involved so quickly…