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Pull the Plug Novel Cover

Pull the Plug

After billionaire Grant Whitlock humiliates the operations team by forcing them to eat from a dog bowl and labeling the protagonist a walking trash can, the disrespect reaches a breaking point. During the holiday party, the room erupts in laughter at the cruel display. However, they forget that the building's utility access and maintenance depend entirely on the person they are mocking. By dropping their badge and walking out, the protagonist prepares to pull the plug on the firm's infrastructure.
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Chapter 4

Strictly Business

The switch was hidden in a stupidly specific place that only I could ever find.

And as for the key to the server and network rooms, it was either lost in the chaos of Vivienne's infamous drawer or already gone out with yesterday's trash.

Mia texted, "What? Then, what should I do? Ms. Cross definitely doesn't know about that. She can't even find the fish food."

She sent a panicked emoji right after.

I replied, "That's her problem, not yours. You're an intern. It's not your job to clean up after a director. Trust me. Turn off your phone and enjoy the holidays. When everyone goes back to work, you're going to see one hell of a show."

I set my phone aside and watched fireworks bloom beyond the window.

There was always something hauntingly beautiful about the calm before a storm.

As for Grant's beloved saltwater reef tank?

Well, she could consider it my first welcome-back gift for her "elevated, global admin team."

...

Three days into the holiday break, I was savoring a fresh cup of coffee when my phone suddenly lit up with calls from an unknown number.

The moment I picked up, Grant's voice erupted through the speaker.

"Caleb, who the hell do you think you are? You think you can throw a tantrum, quit, and then walk off with company secrets?"

Contempt and threat dripped from every word.

"I'll say this once. I'll call the cops on you if you do not return all confidential information today. You could be charged with corporate espionage, and I'll ensure you have an extremely damaging record."

I eased the phone away from my ear and took a slow, unbothered sip of coffee.

I had no idea what performance he was putting on now.

Then, Vivienne's voice cut in, even sharper than his.

"Caleb, I've already drafted the post. A former ops staff member gets fired, vanishes, and steals company property. I'll send it to all local job groups as soon as Mr. Whitlock approves it. I'll make sure that it'll spread through the industry and hiring networks in the city."

Her words sliced through the line, vicious as ever.

"I'll make sure no admin or ops in this city ever touches your resume again."

Grant came back on the line, his voice darker now.

"I'll also reach out to every vendor you've previously worked with and inform them that you were stealing office supplies and reselling company property. Once they hear this, they'll all put you on their blacklist."

He gave a cold laugh. "After this, anyone who hires you is making an enemy of me."

My grip on the cup never wavered.

When I spoke, my voice was calm. "If you want to make a scene, go ahead. I didn't steal anything. That accusation is false. I can sue you for defamation if you proceed with whatever tomfoolery you're doing."

Vivienne scoffed, but I pressed on, "And since you're threatening to smear me online, I'll protect myself by saving all messages, drafts, and threats. If this goes public, everyone will see Whitlock Capital Group's true nature."

Then, I hung up on them.

I blocked the number, silenced every industry group chat they might hijack, and began gathering the evidence I'd need if they actually followed through.

My phone rang not even two minutes later.

This time, it was a landline.

I answered.

A steady male voice came through. "Hello. Am I speaking with Mr. Caleb Mercer?"

"Yes," I said, my tone softening. "This is Caleb. Who's calling?"

The man explained, "I'm with Langford Properties. I'm calling to confirm something with you."

My fingers froze around the cup. "Go ahead."

"Three years ago, you helped Mr. Arthur Langford during a medical emergency," he said. "Mr. Langford has never forgotten that. When he learned you were working for Whitlock Capital Group, he personally arranged a special lease discount for the company."

His tone remained professional, but each word landed with precision.

"We've now been notified that you're no longer with Whitlock Capital Group. Before we make any changes, we wanted to clarify this with you in order to proceed with our decision as to whether the discount should remain in place."

I gazed out the window at the falling snow, a slow smile spreading across my face.

I said. "Yes, I've left the company."

A moment passed before I added, "Since I'm no longer there, there's no reason to continue extending that favor. Please proceed according to your usual policy.

"Understood, Mr. Mercer," he replied succinctly.

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