The Summit

Marcus adjusted his fedora, checking his reflection in the glass doors of the corporate tower. The hat was his one rebellion against the dress code, a small defiance that made him feel like himself even as he prepared to become someone else.

The elevator rose silently, carrying him upward through the pyramid of the organization—a hierarchy he'd spent twenty years climbing, rung by painful rung. Today marked his final ascent to the C-suite, the pinnacle he'd sacrificed everything to reach.

His office on the fortieth floor was pristine, sterile. On his desk sat the welcome packet: a spinach smoothie from the company's new wellness program, bright green and threatening. The CEO had gone full holistic, convinced that employee health metrics would boost stock prices. Marcus stared at the sludge, remembering the late nights, the missed anniversaries, the divorce papers Elena had served him with exactly the same gentle resolve.

"Toast!" called Greg from across the floor, holding up his own spinach concoction. Greg, who'd stolen Marcus's first promotion. Greg, who'd probably orchestrated the last reorganization that eliminated Marcus's team. Greg, now smiling that predatory corporate grin.

Marcus lifted his glass, watching the green liquid catch the morning light. He thought of the corporate pyramids they'd all built—scamming employees into believing they could ascend, when the structure was designed to keep most of them at the base, supporting the weight of a dozen greedy men at the top.

He set the drink down untouched, adjusted his hat one last time, and pressed the button for the lobby. Some victories weren't worth winning. Some pyramids were meant to be climbed down, not up.