I Built the Game, They Paid the Intern $10M

The game I led the development of won an international award and generated $500 million in sales. The company promised a $10 million bonus.

But when payday arrived, the $10 million was handed to the new intern instead.

Stunned, I thought there had been some mistake in accounting, so I stormed straight into the CEO’s office.

“Mr. Jefferson, was the $10 million bonus a mistake?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Grant Jefferson didn’t even bother to look up.

“Ms. Sanderson, I’ve 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 office—and 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 company’s decision is final. I’ve seen everyone’s performance, including yours. If you’re 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, who’s always working overtime. Don’t 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, she’s out. Her face is as dark as the bottom of a pot,” someone muttered.

“Tsk, tsk! $10 million just like that. Who wouldn’t be pissed?” another voice chimed in.

“What’s the use of being angry? If you can’t hold onto it, who can you blame? Mr. Jefferson’s right, anyway. Attitude is everything,” a third insisted.

“Exactly. Regina works late every day. She’s 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 she’s just relying on her seniority, but it backfired. She got what she deserved,” Zara said, almost gloating.

“Right? She thought the project couldn’t 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 doesn’t 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 couldn’t keep up anymore. It was bound to happen. She got eliminated,” another concluded.

“$10 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. It’s 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 couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around, and walked straight to Zara Carter’s 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.