Plot Twists Short Stories & Bias Workplace Novels

My fiancé's secretary had my wedding ring remade into a Hello Kitty trinket. When I confronted her, she twisted the truth with shameless arrogance, insisting that my wedding was hers to decide. I turned to my fiancé for support, only to have him dismiss me as petty and unworthy of being his bride. Together, they ridiculed and humiliated me, unaware that their families' power and future all depended on me. When my superior stepped in, their mockery collapsed in the face of truth. My fiancé fell to his knees, begging me to honor our engagement. But I cast him aside without hesitation, breaking off the marriage and leaving him with nothing.

The day my mother, Dahlia Moone, gives birth to my younger brother, she goes into obstructed labor and suffers a catastrophic hemorrhage. My CEO father, Graham Kovane, orders every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room because his mistress, Selena Langford, says, "Her crying is giving me a headache." That day, both Mom and my unborn brother die. Not long after, I'm framed for a mistake I never made, driven out of the family, and left to survive on the streets. Living on the kindness of strangers, I fight my way up from nothing. Step by step, I rise until I become the head of Rockstone Tech, controlling a fortune worth billions. On the day of the annual evaluation for promoting interns to full-time employees, five candidate files are placed on my desk. My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, taps the file at the top of the stack, her voice full of admiration. "Ms. Campbell, Monica Kovane is exceptionally capable. Her performance has earned full marks from every department manager." I open Monica's profile, and my eyes stop on the family information section. Even in the worst of times, I will never forget those two names on the paper. After a long silence, I tell Ingrid to bring all five interns into my office. The employment contracts are handed out one by one. When only the last person remains, I look up and meet her confident gaze. She's almost certain the position is already hers. Calmly, I slide a termination letter across the desk. "Unfortunately, Ms. Kovane, you didn't pass."

After I secured a billion-dollar partnership for Horizon Ventures, the sales department celebrated with an afternoon tea spread where everyone got to choose their own order. When it was my turn, the new hire, Jessica Osborne, suddenly cut in. "Chicken sandwiches for the rest of them. No need to order anything else." I ignored her and calmly told the admin clerk, "I’ll have a slice of chocolate cake." The next second, Jessica slammed the menu right across my face and glared at me furiously. "I said no, so you don’t get to order. Who do you think you are? A princess?" The hard menu left a stinging red mark across my face, and a surge of anger flared up inside me. Without hesitating, I grabbed the menu and hurled it right back at her face. Jessica immediately shrieked and roared at me, "Do you have any idea who I am?! My dad is Royce Osborne, the biggest client this company has! Even our CEO, Emily Hopkins, treats me with respect. How dare you lay a hand on me? Believe it or not, I can get your $600,000 bonus canceled and have you blacklisted from this entire industry!" I froze. Royce Osborne's my maternal uncle. He’s forty, famously single, and has never been married. When exactly did he have such a grown-up daughter?

Last Christmas—in my past life—I was on vacation when the call came. It was Lucy, the family’s new pet capo, and she was in a panic. She’d blown the deal with the Colombians, she said, and now they were threatening to make us pay. I had to rush back and clean up the mess. I saved the deal, but it still cost us a shipment of hardware. And then Lucy, the one who caused the whole mess, pointed the finger straight at me. “It was Madeline! She gave me bad intel! She must’ve set me up!” The truth? The deal went south because she mouthed off to the Colombians and pissed them off. But Henry, the Godfather I’d served loyally for years, didn't want to hear my side. He just branded me a traitor. He kicked me out of the family and put the word out to every outfit that I was a rat. I had a price on my head. I died in some gutter, my body left for the dogs. When I opened my eyes again, it was just before that Christmas. This time, I walked straight into Henry's study and handed over my family signet. "I want out." This time, I can’t wait to see who’s left holding the bag with the pissed-off Colombians.

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart bound herself to a transfer system: everything she ate would be redirected straight into my stomach. She opened a streaming account and broadcast herself eating for twelve hours straight. She earned a fortune. Meanwhile, I collapsed with acute pancreatitis and was rushed to the hospital. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he only stared at me like I was insane. "How could something that absurd exist? If food could really be transferred, no one in the world would ever starve. You're just jealous that she's making money from streaming." After that, every time his childhood sweetheart went live, I ended up hospitalized again. I kept hovering between life and death. I sought medical help, but the doctors couldn't explain my condition. Some even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, in order to outdo her rivals in a PK match, she devoured ten pounds of rice in a single sitting. At that very moment, my spleen and stomach ruptured, and I bled to death on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of her very first livestream. This time, I was prepared. I rushed out and bought twenty takeout meals. "This time," I said, "I'll eat first."

After landing a major project for the company, I receive a ring from my girlfriend, Kiera Ripley. I happily share a picture of it on my socials, thinking she was finally going to announce our engagement. But Kiera's newly hired assistant, Trevor Horton, suddenly slaps me hard and overturns my entire work desk. "You're a director, for God's sake! Don't you feel the least bit ashamed, stealing the present my wife gave me?" Trevor snaps. Not only does Kiera not retort to Trevor's words, but she even says I am not fit for my position as director of the tech department. She then announces to all the staff that Trevor will be taking over the project I just secured for the company. Only then do I realize that the person Kiera wants to publicly announce as her boyfriend isn't me, but Trevor instead. All the staff immediately raise their phones to record me, enjoying the spectacle that is my misfortune. But instead of getting angry, I shove my nametag into Trevor's hands and say, "Since Mr. Horton will be taking over the project, you can take over my position as director as well. I wish you two a long and happy life together!"

I struck a deal with the richest corporation on behalf of my company. My wife was the CEO, Natalie Ford, and she hurriedly said she would give me a villa as a reward. However, what I got was just a children's drawing of the villa. "Honey, the company is about to go public this year, and we're having trouble with capital turnover. I'll give you a large villa next year." Later, I came across the TikTok account of her male assistant. Morgan Shaw was showing off how Natalie had spent 300 million dollars to buy him a large penthouse in the business district. The caption was: [Those who truly love you will give you a warm home.] It turned out it was not that the company was short of funds; it was that she did not think it was worth it to spend that money on me. I saw that the commenters were full of envy for Morgan, so I liked and reposted the video. Immediately, people flooded his post with more comments. Less than a minute later, Natalia called anxiously. "Honey, have you misunderstood something? I bought Morgan a house just to make it easier for him to get to work. Hurry and remove your like and repost. "If you help him clarify things, I promise to go to your family's house for Christmas this year, okay?" She always broke her promises. This time, I refused to believe her again. "Forget it. Let's get a divorce."

Christmas was just around the corner, and the head of the company asked us to choose between a bonus and a Christmas gift box for chocolate. I was not much of a sweets person, so I was the first to vote for the bonus. The intern collecting the votes immediately called me out by name in the team chat. "Ella, Christmas is supposed to be about the holiday spirit. Isn't choosing the bonus a bit materialistic?" Even the department manager tagged me. "Ella, the company values team spirit more than anything." In the end, everyone else picked the gift boxes. I was the only one who did not. When the Christmas party arrived, the intern had bought gift boxes filled entirely with nut chocolate. She knew I was allergic to nuts, yet she forced me to try some in front of everyone to show my team spirit. "Ella, this was bought with everyone's bonus money. You cannot just refuse, can you?" The next moment, I was struggling to breathe and a rash spread across my body. The intern looked at me with pure disgust. "Seriously, Ella, do you have to ruin the mood when everyone else is having fun?" I frantically searched my bag for my allergy medicine, but all I could find were a few pieces of chocolate. Seeing me in such a state, the intern laughed. "Medicine is only one part of it. You need more sweets anyway. I swapped your medicine for the chocolate in the gift box." My breathing was getting worse by the second. I quickly grabbed my phone and texted the CEO. [Dad, I'm having an allergic reaction. I'm at the…]

I was the A-list celebrity in the country, the youngest actor ever to win all three major acting awards, and the man Monroe family's heiress treasured above everyone else. Zara Monroe had not only founded a talent agency dedicated to promoting me alone, but had even set aside her status as the heiress of the Monroe family to work as my personal assistant for love. Everyone in the industry knew that crossing me meant crossing the Monroe family. Yet no one could have imagined that in the latest S-tier film production, the male lead I had been all but guaranteed to play would be snatched away by an obscure actor barely known beyond the industry's bottom tier. People across the industry all placing bets on how long it would take before Zara had this newcomer, Kyson Bentley, blacklisted across the entire industry. But instead of a public takedown, they got an official announcement from Monroe Media. [Welcome to our company's second signed artist, @Kyson Bentley! Mr. Bentley will be partnering with Monroe Media from here on out. His future is full of promise.] The entire industry was shaken. Everyone mocked me for having fallen out of favor. The award-winning actor himself was now expected to play second fiddle to a newcomer. On set, I watched Kyson deliver a painfully amateurish performance. My face cold, I followed the and slapped him using a camera angle that made it look as though I had hit him. But Kyson clutched his cheek and fell to the ground, accusing me of using the scene to get revenge on him. Zara ordered her people to pin me down and made the production team add a hundred more slapping scenes to my schedule. By the time they were done, I had been slapped until I lost my hearing in my right ear. My face was so swollen that I was barely recognizable.

I paid for a first-class plane ticket with my own money to beat our competitors and locked down a multi-million-dollar deal. By the time I went back with the signed contract, I received a notice of termination. The reason was because I violated the company cost-saving policy, and I was dismissed effective immediately. I was stopped and mocked by Maeve Zolten, the intern assistant. "It's a strict company policy that only train travel is allowed for business trips. You deliberately violated this rule. Should we undermine the company's regulations just for you?" My fiancé and the CEO of the company, Chance Goode, backed her up without hesitation. "As the director, you're taking the lead in violating the rules, setting an extremely negative example!" Through the narrow gap in the blinds, I caught a glimpse of him cheating on me with Maeve. That was when I finally understood all the mistreatment. They clearly misunderstood who owned the deal if they thought firing me ended the story. They fired me for a ticket, but I would walk away with the future. I turned away, pulled out my phone, and made a phone call. "I'll join you and bring in my new energy project worth tens of millions of dollars. Additionally, does your company restrict key employees from flying for business negotiations?"

During a game of Truth or Dare at a company gathering, my wife, Whitney Stuart, picks dare. She has to share a passionate kiss with a man for 30 seconds while holding a sheet of tissue between their lips. Even though I, her lawfully wedded husband, am right there with her, she doesn't hesitate to choose her assistant, Zach Green, instead. Once the 30 seconds run over, the two of them reluctantly part, the tissue now drenched with their saliva. During the second round, I end up getting chosen. Chuckling, I say, "I pick dare." I turn to the side and kiss the female intern sitting next to me.

I accidentally used the shared bank card linked to my husband, Ryan Newman. Before I could even leave the store, two officers pinned me to the ground and accused me of embezzling company funds. Right then, Ryan’s new secretary, Georgia Hawkins, called me. "Mrs. Newman, I was the one who reported you! Do you have any idea how hard Mr. Newman works for his money? "He works himself to the bone every day. You can’t keep spending so recklessly anymore! Starting today, I’ll be managing all your expenses. Every purchase needs my approval first! "Oh, and your monthly spending limit is now $500. You already spent $499 today, so don’t even think about spending another cent this month." Listening to her smug little lecture, I laughed. Georgia had only been at the company for a month. Just because Ryan treated her politely at work, she’d started acting like she ran his entire life. Little did she know, the company belonged to me. Every dollar in Ryan's bank account came from me, including her paycheck. As for the Mr. Newman she worshiped so much? He was just the man who married into my family. So what gave her the right to manage my money?

I rarely went to the office. My dad had left the company to me, but I couldn't be bothered with the hassle, so three years ago, I handed it over to Elina Chandler to run. She was my mistress, the one I held closest to my heart. Her $20,000 monthly allowance arrived like clockwork, and I had bought her both a car and a house. Whatever she wanted, I had never once told her no. She probably saw me as nothing more than a spoiled rich kid who couldn't be bothered to manage his own business. Today, I happened to stop by for once. I'd barely sat down when a young man pushed open the door and looked me up and down. "Which department are you in? You don't even show up two days a month. We don't keep idle people around. Pack your things and get out." I stared at him, stunned. His name was Lance Compton, a manager Elina had recently promoted. Just then, Elina walked over and gave me a casual glance. "He's no one important. If you want to fire him, fire him." I walked out of the office. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message from Elina. [Don't sulk. I'll come over tonight and make it up to you.] I stared at the message and laughed.

I have always been fair to my sons, but Tim, the eldest, always complains that I'm never fair to him. It's unfair for him that I stopped him from eating seafood because of his allergies. It's unfair for him when my husband and I refused to take him to the amusement park, when his brother was bleeding profusely after a bad fall. It's unfair for him that we didn't buy the exact same shirt as Joe's because he wasn't the same size. As long as I don't do what he wants, he will keep calling me unfair. Later, he brought home a delinquent, saying she's his fiancee. When I refused to give them my blessing, he took to the internet, complaining that I was a control freak and I had been unfair for years. The internet canceled us. Joe lost his job, while my husband and I were killed as a crazed netizen crashed his car into us. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day when Tim first brought Nana home. This time, I decided to give him everything wanted. So why did he regret everything?

For the past three months, I've slept only three hours every day just so my team and I can create an app. Thanks to our hard work, the app goes absolutely viral to the point we've garnered over 100 million registered users on the first week of its launch. At the afterparty, my wife, Stacie Woodward, announces that her godbrother, Tory Frost, who's the PR manager, will be the one receiving the million-dollar bonus. She then tosses me a few 50% discount coupons that can be used in shopping malls as my bonus. "You're just a code monkey—why do you need that much money anyway? You can have these discount coupons. Use them on anything you want. At least buy some nice clothes for yourself. Don't go around wearing these rags. You'll just end up humiliating me more." I plead to her in a low tone, "Have you gone crazy, Stacie? My dad needs the money for the best medication in order to save his life! Can you please stop joking around?" But Stacie clings to Toby's arm, looking high and mighty. "Your dad's dying, isn't he? He might as well stop wasting the public resources! I can always choose him a better grave and hold a nice funeral for him when his time comes!" As I look at Stacie's smug face, I just smile at her instead of getting mad at her. She must have forgotten that the app's core algorithm and the user growth model are built using my private, undisclosed technology stack. That means the copyright is mine and has nothing to do with the company. I just smile while nodding at Stacie. That night, I activate the technology stack's self-destruct and migration protocols.

I find a slip of paper on the back of a flyer I'm holding during the first day of club recruitment. It says that the president of the dance club, Donna Shaw, will announce in front of more than 100 people that I'm pregnant. She's got everything ready—ultrasound reports, hospital records, and even eyewitnesses. Henry Baker, her boyfriend and president of the Student Activities Board, will step in to save the day in front of everyone. Consequently, the whole school will condemn me, and I will be expelled. I stare at the paper, wondering what kind of lame prank this is. I turn the paper over. The smile on my face fades when I see that the handwriting is identical to my own. I slip the paper into my pocket. At 3:00 pm, I make my way past the dance club's booth. The second I stop, Donna points at my stomach, her eyes red. "We don't accept people with no morals… I saw it. Your belly is already showing." Everyone looks at me, and someone gasps. I look down at my completely flat stomach, then back at her. I smile. My voice isn't loud, but everyone can hear me. "I'm pregnant? Are you sure about that? "I'm a guy. Tell me. How exactly did the baby get inside me?"

The day I got the callback for my second interview, my mother, Sara Bingley, came home with two bags. "You're about to start your job for real, and that means dressing professionally. I bought you girls a suit each, one for each of you, fair and square." Molly Pitcher happily took her bag. Inside was a fitted, deep navy suit, sharp and clearly not cheap. What landed in my hands was an ill-fitting black suit pulled from the clearance rack, so oversized the sleeves swallowed the backs of my hands. Mom smiled and touched my cheek. "Cathy, you'll still grow. I bought it big on purpose. Give it two years, and it'll fit just right. I went to I don't know how many malls just to track down that black suit." She did love me, in her way. She knew my job required a black suit, and she really had gone to several malls to find one. But she'd forgotten I was already twenty-three. No amount of growing was going to fill out a suit that oversized and that cheaply made. Both daughters were her own flesh and blood, but Molly was plainly the one she doted on. The love she gave me came measured out in careful portions. The love she gave Molly overflowed. If that was how it was going to be, then from today on, I was done being the extra one in this family.

My CEO wife, Gianna Richmond, plans on finally publicly announcing our marriage after our company successfully secures funding. However, Shane Jagger, a junior colleague that she recently hired, suddenly takes the mic from her and bashfully says, "Ms. Richmond, I really didn't think that you would be making our relationship public so quickly. Aren't you spoiling me a little too much?" Gianna doesn't refute that. Instead, she arranges for him to work on a very important project to help him fast-track his growth. At once, all of her employees erupt in cheer and applause, praising them for being a match made in heaven. A long-time colleague, Henry Danson, notices that I'm not saying anything in response, so he whispers to me, "Hey, Brandon, aren't you usually really good at pleasantries and networking? Hurry up and show some support!" I decide not to make a fuss. Instead, I take off my project manager work badge and push it toward Shane instead, declaring, "I don't think just being part of the project is good enough for your status. You should be the project manager as well. Think of it as my gift to you for making your relationship public!"

During a game of Truth or Dare at a gathering with friends, my girlfriend, Bridget Ellison, loses. Her punishment is to buy coffee for everyone. Half an hour later, she returns carrying more than a dozen bags and starts handing out drinks with a smile. "Francis, you've been pulling all-nighters for two days straight. Here's your iced long black." "Daryl, you like java chip frappe with extra mocha sauce, right?" "And here's yours. Lemon black tea, no ice. You've ordered it hundreds of times." One by one, everyone gets their drink. By the time she reaches me, only an empty bag remains. Everyone at the table freezes. "Where's Aiden's drink?" She pushes her peach frappe toward me and says, "I forgot. He can just share mine." A friend immediately groans and complains, "It's the same every gathering. If you two want to show off how loving you are, can you at least come up with a new routine?" Everyone around us laughs and teases us, but I can't bring myself to even take a sip of the drink. I'm the only one who knows the truth. The display of affection is an act. In reality, she has truly forgotten to buy me a drink. After four years together, Bridget still can't remember that I'm allergic to peaches. I set the peach frappe back on the table. I've spent four years settling for less. Now, it's time for me to leave.

At the factory, my arm is pulled into a machine. After the surgery, the factory supervisor tells me it's my fault. Because of my arm, the machine has to be shut down for repairs, and every day of downtime will cost them millions. "Someone has to take responsibility for this, Zachary," the supervisor tells me. "It wouldn't make sense to demand millions from you, so just compensate us with 300,000—that's all." Under their threats—and my family's desperate begging—I sign the IOU for 300,000. With one arm gone, I can no longer find a job. All I can do is collect trash to repay the debt. While picking up bottles outside a restaurant one day, I hear the factory supervisor laughing and bragging inside. "Actually, that one-armed guy didn't violate any rules. In fact, the HQ gave three million dollars in compensation. My house and car? All bought with that money," he said. "I mean, who'd ever find out? With that debt hanging over him, he's probably already run off somewhere." Shaken by the news, I stagger onto the street. A truck roars out of nowhere, slamming into me and throwing me 16 feet across the road. When I open my eyes again, I had returned to the day I lost my arm.