Chapter 7: The Empty Throne

Leo's final Monday at Aethel Corp dawned with the crisp promise of autumn, the kind of morning that seemed designed for new beginnings. As he walked through the familiar glass doors of the corporate tower for the last time, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who had already mentally departed. His two weeks' notice had become a countdown to freedom, each day bringing him closer to a future Amanda Sterling had tried so desperately to prevent.

The elevator ride to Section 7 felt different now—shorter somehow, as if the building itself had lost its power to intimidate him. Leo nodded to familiar faces in the hallway, exchanging pleasantries with colleagues who had no idea they were witnessing the final act of a carefully orchestrated drama.

Amanda's office door was closed when he arrived, but the sound of her voice carried through the glass walls with an edge of barely controlled desperation. She was on another call with HR, her third since Friday afternoon, judging by the stack of recruitment files visible on her desk.

"What do you mean the Henderson candidate declined?" Amanda's voice rose just enough to be audible across the open office space. "Did they give a reason?"

Leo settled into his cubicle and powered up his computer, allowing himself a small smile as he overheard fragments of the conversation. Henderson—that would be Sarah Henderson, a brilliant systems architect from the selection program who'd scored in the top ten percent. Leo had encountered her at a networking event over the weekend, where their conversation had naturally turned to career opportunities and workplace culture.

"Concerns about management philosophy?" Amanda's voice cracked slightly. "What kind of concerns?"

The beauty of Leo's strategy was revealing itself in real time. Each declined offer created more pressure on Amanda to find alternatives, while simultaneously making the remaining candidates more suspicious about why so many of their peers were refusing positions in Section 7. It was a feedback loop of professional reputation destruction, accelerating with each passing day.

Craig Morrison appeared at Leo's cubicle, looking even more nervous than usual. "Leo, Amanda wants to see you in her office."

"Of course she does," Leo replied cheerfully, saving his work with deliberate slowness.

Amanda's office felt like a war room when Leo entered. Personnel files covered every available surface, recruitment charts papered the walls, and her computer screen displayed what appeared to be a desperate search through alternative hiring databases. She looked up from a stack of résumés with the haggard expression of someone who hadn't slept well in days.

"Leo," she began, attempting to project her usual authoritative demeanor, "I need to discuss the transition process for your replacement."

"Certainly," Leo replied, settling into the chair across from her desk. "How's the search going?"

The question was innocent enough, but Amanda's flinch suggested she understood the subtext. Her recruitment efforts had become the office's worst-kept secret, with each declined offer generating whispered speculation about Section 7's desirability as a workplace.

"We're exploring several promising candidates," Amanda said, the corporate speak failing to mask her underlying panic. "But I need to ensure proper knowledge transfer from you to whoever we select."

"Of course. I've been documenting all my current projects and creating comprehensive handover notes." Leo's professionalism was impeccable, which somehow made the situation more infuriating for Amanda. "Though I should mention, the timeline might be challenging."

"What timeline?"

"Well, if you haven't selected a candidate yet, and they need standard notice periods at their current positions, you're probably looking at six to eight weeks before someone can actually start. That's assuming you find someone willing to accept the position."

The math was brutal in its simplicity. Leo's departure would leave Amanda's section critically understaffed just as several major projects reached crucial deadlines. The workload that had been distributed among her team would now fall primarily on the remaining employees, creating additional pressure and potential retention issues.

Amanda's phone rang, interrupting her response. She glanced at the caller ID and her expression shifted to something approaching desperation.

"Sterling," she answered, her voice artificially bright.

Leo could hear only Amanda's side of the conversation, but the pattern was becoming familiar. Another declined offer, another polite but firm rejection citing concerns about workplace culture and management approach. Amanda's responses grew increasingly strained as she tried to understand what information these candidates were receiving about Section 7.

"Can you be more specific about these concerns?" Amanda asked, grabbing a pen to take notes. "What exactly did they tell you about management philosophy?"

The caller's response was apparently lengthy, because Amanda's expression darkened as she listened. Leo watched her face cycle through recognition, anger, and finally something resembling defeat as the implications became clear.

"I see," Amanda said finally. "Well, if they change their mind, please let me know."

She ended the call and stared at her phone for a long moment, as if it had personally betrayed her.

"Everything alright?" Leo asked with genuine concern that was only slightly exaggerated.

"Fine," Amanda snapped, then immediately softened her tone. "Just some challenges with the recruitment process."

"Anything I can help with? I'd hate for my departure to create unnecessary difficulties for the team."

The offer was perfectly reasonable and completely sincere, which made it all the more galling for Amanda. Leo was being the model of professional courtesy while her efforts to replace him crumbled around her.

"Actually," Amanda said, and Leo could see her desperation overriding her pride, "would you consider extending your notice period? Perhaps another week or two while we finalize the replacement process?"

The request was unprecedented. Amanda Sterling, who had threatened his career over a single day of remote work, was now begging him to delay his departure. The woman who had called his professional development an "inadequate excuse" was now dependent on his goodwill for her section's basic functionality.

"I appreciate the confidence," Leo replied thoughtfully, "but I've already committed to my start date at the Ministry. Professional integrity, you understand."

Amanda's jaw tightened as her own words about professional commitment were reflected back at her. She'd created this situation through her rigid interpretation of company policies, and now those same principles were preventing her from securing the flexibility she desperately needed.

Leo's computer chimed with an email notification. He glanced at the screen and allowed a genuine smile to cross his face.

"Oh, that's interesting," he said, reading the message. "Looks like there's been a development with one of your potential candidates."

"What kind of development?"

Leo turned his laptop screen toward Amanda, displaying an email from David Kim, one of the selection program graduates she'd been courting aggressively.

"Leo - Thank you for the coffee last week and the honest perspective on workplace culture at Aethel Corp. After careful consideration, I've decided to decline the Section 7 position. Your insights about management consistency and professional development support were particularly valuable in my decision-making process. Hope everything goes well with your new position at the Ministry. - David"

The silence in Amanda's office stretched like a taut wire. She stared at the email as if it were written in code, her mind clearly processing the implications of David's explicit reference to Leo's "insights" about management consistency.

"You've been talking to the candidates," Amanda said, her voice carefully controlled.

"I've been having coffee with fellow professionals from the selection program," Leo replied with perfect honesty. "When people ask about my experience at Aethel Corp, I share it honestly. Professional courtesy."

"You've been sabotaging my recruitment efforts."

"I've been answering direct questions about workplace culture and management philosophy. If candidates are making decisions based on that information, that suggests they're conducting proper due diligence before accepting positions."

Amanda's phone rang again. She ignored it, her focus entirely on Leo as the scope of his strategy became clear. He'd transformed his departure from a simple resignation into a systematic dismantling of her ability to function as a manager.

"How many of them have you talked to?" she asked.

"I don't keep a list," Leo replied. "But the selection program created a pretty tight community. People talk to each other, share experiences, ask for advice. It's natural professional networking."

The phone stopped ringing, then immediately started again. Amanda glanced at the caller ID and her face went pale.

"That's the Director of Human Resources," she said.

Leo stood up, smoothing his jacket. "I should probably get back to work. Still have documentation to finish for my replacement." He paused at the door. "Assuming you find one, of course."

As Leo returned to his cubicle, he could hear Amanda's conversation with HR through her office walls. The tone was apologetic, defensive, and increasingly desperate as she tried to explain why her section's critical position remained unfilled despite weeks of recruitment efforts.

The afternoon brought a steady stream of visitors to Amanda's office—HR representatives, senior managers, and procurement specialists trying to understand why Section 7's replacement hiring had become such a bottleneck. Each conversation seemed to leave Amanda more frazzled, her usual corporate composure cracking under the weight of questions she couldn't adequately answer.

At 4:30 PM, Leo received an email that made his entire strategy worthwhile. It was from Amanda's assistant, marked "Urgent - All Section 7 Staff."

"Due to unexpected scheduling conflicts and staffing challenges, several project deadlines may need to be extended. We are working diligently to resolve resource allocation issues and appreciate your patience during this transition period."

The corporate euphemisms barely concealed the reality: Amanda's section was failing to meet its commitments because she couldn't replace Leo's expertise. The "unexpected scheduling conflicts" were the result of her inability to recruit qualified candidates who were willing to work under her supervision.

Leo packed up his personal belongings as the office began to empty for the day. Three years of accumulated desk accessories, coffee mugs, and project memorabilia fit into a single cardboard box—a surprisingly small collection of artifacts from what had once seemed like a promising career opportunity.

As he walked toward the elevator for the final time, Leo paused at Amanda's office. She was still there, surrounded by failed recruitment attempts and mounting project pressures, her desk lamp casting harsh shadows across her face.

She looked up as he knocked on her door frame.

"Just wanted to say goodbye," Leo said. "And good luck with the replacement search."

Amanda stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "You did this deliberately," she said finally.

"I did what any professional would do," Leo replied. "I shared my experience honestly when asked, and I fulfilled my notice period with complete integrity."

"You destroyed my ability to hire qualified candidates."

Leo shook his head. "I provided information that allowed qualified candidates to make informed decisions. If that information consistently led them to decline positions in Section 7, perhaps the problem isn't the information itself."

Amanda had no response to that logic. She'd created the conditions that made her section an undesirable workplace, and Leo had simply ensured that potential employees understood those conditions before making career-altering commitments.

"Your new position starts Monday?" she asked.

"Bright and early. Ministry of Economic Development, Grade 7 Senior Analyst. The opportunity you called an 'inadequate excuse.'"

Amanda flinched at the reminder of her midnight text message. The words that had been intended to crush his spirit were now a permanent reminder of her own professional misjudgment.

Leo left her sitting in her office, surrounded by the wreckage of her recruitment efforts and facing the reality of managing a critically understaffed department. The woman who had tried to control his career through threats and manipulation was now trapped in a situation entirely of her own making.

As the elevator doors closed behind him, Leo felt the profound satisfaction of a chess match concluded with elegant precision. Amanda Sterling had underestimated him from their first meeting, treating him as just another subordinate to be controlled and manipulated.

Instead, she'd created her own nemesis—someone with the intelligence to see through her tactics, the integrity to document her behavior, and the strategic thinking to orchestrate the perfect revenge.

The game was over, and Leo Vance had won more decisively than Amanda would ever fully understand.