Why Is Death By Meeting A Must-Read For Leaders?

Three days into the silent treatment, Derrick—my fiancé and CEO—greenlit his assistant's pitch for a self-driving road trip. He expected me to flip, like always. I didn't. A month later, he came back and saw it—I wasn't the same. He backed Molly, stole my project, and thought I'd explode. I didn't. I just helped her draft the proposal. He trashed everything I built, just so she could snag her year-end bonus. I didn't fight back. Took the blame, took the hit. Molly was all smug. "See? Told you. You can't go at Yara head-on. Give her the silent treatment—she folds. She's scared of losing you. That's why she's playing nice." Derrick ate it up. Called her smart. Then he pulled me aside—offered a raise, a promotion, even a fancy wedding. First time he'd ever brought it up. But he missed one detail: he'd already signed off on my resignation while he was off playing road trip king. And I'd already dumped him. That was it. Clean cut. Nothing left.

At the company dinner, my coworkers started a game: everyone texted their lover saying they’d fallen ill. Whoever’s man replied first won. No surprise, I came in dead last again. Both my calls and my texts went completely unanswered. “Claire, don’t feel bad. Mr. Blackwood is so busy, it’s completely normal he hasn’t seen your message.” A coworker smiled and tried to comfort me, but the truth was, I’d gotten used to it long ago. Forget a cold or a fever. Even the day I was diagnosed with cancer, I called him nineteen times, and he didn’t pick up once. When I stayed quiet, everyone turned to look at Vivian in the corner, and one coworker teased her with a grin. “Vivian, didn’t you say your boyfriend was super clingy? How come he still hasn’t replied?” Vivian clutched her phone, her face full of unease. “I’ll pass. What if he’s in a meeting? I don’t want to bother him.” The mood had gone stiff, and looking at her pale fingertips, I suddenly smiled. “It’s fine. It’s just a game.” Before she could refuse again, I leaned over and hit the speaker-dial for her. The call I’d expected no one to answer was picked up in an instant. The huge private room fell dead silent. Because the voice coming through the phone belonged to Adrian Blackwood, my forever-busy boyfriend of seven years. “Babe, don’t forget our date tonight.” “Seven o’clock. I’ll see you at The Laurent.”

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

The company had been losing money for two consecutive years. That year, with our biggest client suddenly going out of business, we lost nearly ten million dollars in receivables. On New Year's Eve, I sent out a company-wide apology email after much deliberation. The email stated, "At this moment, I regret to inform that we can only increase each employee's monthly salary by 20 dollars this year." An intern named Ingrid Little took a screenshot of the email and posted it online. In no time, her post started trending. The entire internet criticized me for being fake and pretending to be poor. They said that my shameless act was a blatant insult to my employees' hard work. "20 dollars doesn't even cover commuting!" "Why hasn't this garbage company gone under yet?" Ingrid replied to each comment with the same line: "I don't care about the money. I just feel insulted. I'm quitting tomorrow." The next day, I walked into the office with bloodshot eyes and turned on the company-wide broadcast. I announced, "Since some people believe I've insulted their dignity, you may submit your resignation immediately. However, you will no longer be entitled to the year-end bonus of 20 thousand dollars." Everyone gasped in disbelief. Ingrid turned completely pale, and some workers even rushed into my office impulsively. "Boss, this has nothing to do with me! I stand with the company!" After all, my company had increased salaries for 37 consecutive years and given an average raise of over 2,000 dollars each time. They wouldn't find a company like mine elsewhere.

After I got a billion-dollar client drunk, I forced him to sign a contract that gave us better terms. He was then rushed to the ER. After that, I walked into the CEO's office with my legs shaking, holding my resignation letter. "Mr. Blake, I blacked out from drinking last night, lost control, and offended an important client. I'll take responsibility and resign immediately. I won't drag the company into this!" I wanted to leave as soon as possible before the Legal Department sued me and took everything I owned. The cold and distant CEO, Adrian Blake, pulled out his fountain pen with a dark expression. The next second, I never expected that I heard his thoughts wildly screaming in my head. "Damn! This woman is my lucky star! I'm someone with severe social anxiety who wants to hide the moment I see people. I was almost cornered by those ruthless businessmen! Not only did she take several drinks for me, but she also grabbed that guy by the collar and forced him to lower the contract price by 20%! But I'm the cold and untouchable CEO of a multinational company. I can't just beg her to attend every business dinner for me forever, can I?" I saw Adrian's face become tense, and a hidden excitement flashed in his eyes. I quickly grabbed my resignation letter, tore it apart, and said, "Mr. Blake, I know I made a mistake. Please let me redeem myself. From now on, I can attend all those business dinners for you!"

SYNOPSIS: For five years, Evelyn Hart was Sebastian Vale’s perfect executive assistant. She handled his meetings, his schedules, his private calls, and even the women he forgot to send flowers to after spending the night with them. Everyone in Vale Corporation knew one thing: Sebastian trusted Evelyn more than anyone. What nobody knew was that Evelyn had secretly loved him for years. Until the night she overheard him laugh at the idea of ever touching a woman like her. “Reliable employees make terrible lovers,” he said casually. “Too emotional. Too attached.” That same night, Evelyn submitted her resignation. No tears. No confrontation. No explanation. Then she disappeared. Three months later, Sebastian sees her again at an elite business summit in Paris—not as his assistant, but as the youngest CEO of a billion-dollar AI startup competing directly against his company. And standing beside her is a dangerous billionaire investor rumored to be obsessed with her. For the first time in his life, Sebastian realizes something terrifying: The woman who once waited for him… no longer looks at him at all.