Cerita Pendek Feel-Good Story & Novel CEO Workplace

HR sent out the Christmas holiday schedule at 3 p.m. Every employee received seven days off and a Christmas gift box. Well, all of them… except for me. I was given only half a day off. I had my medical records tucked in an envelope as I pushed open the conference room door. My husband, Matthew Westbrook, sat at the far end of the table, focused on something on his laptop. He didn't even look up as I entered. "The holiday schedule's already finalized," he said. "If I change yours now, HR will have to shift everyone's schedule around. Besides, it's just a shoulder procedure, Elena. It's not like you're dying. Once the surgery's over and done with, you'll be as healthy as a horse." I stared at him, not quite believing what I was hearing. Matthew finally looked up, already sounding annoyed. "What? You expect me to change everyone else's plans just because you're my wife?" He frowned. "Being married to me doesn't mean you get special treatment at work." There it was again. I had heard those words, "special treatment," more times than I could count. I'd worked myself into the ground for Westbrook Group for five years. Yet, I somehow still had nothing to show for it. I could negotiate three major international routes and bring in over ten million dollars in revenue, but Bianca Brooke could revise a presentation deck and somehow get more recognition than I did. And the one time I disagreed with one of her proposals? That day, Matthew took away my entire annual bonus. Apparently, five years of loyalty meant nothing when Bianca was involved. I wanted to argue, but Matthew already shut his laptop and stood up. He put on his coat as if the conversation were already over. "I've got to jet." He walked straight past me without even a glance. "I'll have Finance double your holiday pay," he added as he reached the door. "Consider it compensation for staying behind." He left right after that. The conference room door had barely closed behind him when my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram notification from Bianca. I opened it to find a selfie of her seated on a private jet. Her passport lay casually on the table beside her, cream leather seats stretched out behind her, and a custom gold Westbrook pin gleamed on her coat collar. Her caption read, "Seven days in Monteluce, courtesy of the company. And I get to attend the gala with the CEO. What a way to end the year!" I stared at the screen, thinking, 'So, that's why he's got to jet.' Matthew had just told me that giving his wife time off for shoulder surgery would be unfair to everyone else, but Bianca was being flown to Monteluce for a seven-day Christmas vacation. She got seven days, while I got half a day. For a moment there, I could barely breathe. My grip tightened around my phone as I reached for the wall to steady myself, the envelope containing my medical records still clutched in my other hand. I looked at Bianca's smiling face one last time before closing Instagram. Then, I opened my contacts and made a call. "Uncle Gabe?" To my surprise, my voice came out perfectly calm. "That 80-million-dollar credit line Harrington Bank approved for Westbrook Group? I want you to pull it." Silence filled the other end of the line. I looked down at the medical records in my hand, and something fragile inside me finally settled. "My husband made something very clear to me today," I continued, staring at nothing. "Being married to him doesn't mean I deserve special treatment." A slow smile spread across my face as my gaze sharpened. "So, I don't see why his company should be funded 80 million just because he's married to me."

I'm scheduled to work overtime for all five days of the long Thanksgiving holiday weekend. However, I decide to just put up with it because I remember that I have a 200,000-dollar year-end bonus at stake. On the first day of overtime, the HR manager, Karen Beech, deducts 200 dollars from my pay, citing "lack of attention to personal image and affecting the company's overall reputation" as the reason. I look at my neatly pressed dress shirt and slacks and frown. "I've strictly followed the company's rules regarding my appearance. What's the problem?" Without saying another word, Karen grabs a cup of hot coffee and splashes it all over me. "Well, you've got a problem now." That day, an official message is pinned on the company's Slack channel. "Alex Sutherland violated our company's policy, affecting the company's overall reputation. Thus, he's fined 200 dollars." Nobody speaks up for me in the channel. That's because the newly appointed General Manager, Remy Lincoln, says that he wants to reduce costs and increase the company's efficiency, which would mean random layoffs. As a result, the entire office has been thrown into a state of panic, and everyone is looking out for themselves. As for me, I am the highest-paid employee in the company with a monthly salary of 10,000 dollars. On the second day of overtime, someone locks my front door from the outside, making me almost a minute late for work. When I reach the company, Karen writes me up for being tardy and fires me on the spot. I look at another sales associate behind her, Sandra Leach, who is pretending to be busy with work to avoid my gaze. She is the only person in the entire company who has ever been invited to my home. I refuse to leave without a fight and request to see the company chairman, Mr. Richard Lincoln. However, Karen scoffs disdainfully at me and says, "Don't think that you have any influence on the company's decisions just because you're a sales manager. "Mr. Remy Lincoln is Mr. Lincoln Senior's only son, which means his will is also the chairman's." She then glances at my chest and adds, "Did you seriously think that a woman with zero assets like you could even attempt to seduce the chairman into changing his mind? In your dreams!" I'm at a complete loss for words. For starters, I am a man, and Karen has to be completely blind not to notice that. And secondly, if Remy really were my dad's only son, then who am I supposed to be?

I had special luck that would cause others to lose their money. If anyone tried to scam my money from me, they would suffer financial loss. When I was in elementary school, a female classmate stole five dollars from me to buy a snack. The next day, her father suffered a fifty-thousand-dollar loss in his business deal. When I was in high school, my homeroom teacher withheld my prize money. The next day, his wife got into a pyramid scheme, and he lost his house because of it. After I started working, I encountered my extremely snobbish boss, Fiona Anderson. I submitted a claim for five thousand dollars, which I had paid in advance for a company event. However, she refused to approve the claim for three months. As for the rich intern who drove a luxury car, she would immediately approve his claims with a huge smile on her face, even though he would submit fake receipts. I urgently needed to pay my credit card bill, so I went to talk to her. Fiona pointed at me and snorted. “Poor men like you always try to covet the company’s money! “How dare you ask me for money? You must be out of your mind!”

I'm Serena Sorrento, the sole daughter of Don Salvatore Sorrento. After seeing the news of a female employee getting stalked and assaulted by a stalker on her way home from work, I spend millions of dollars arranging specialized cars for every female employee in my company when they get off work at night. At first, I thought I'd receive a "thank you" from them. But those employees have the gall to criticize me on various major social media platforms. "Our boss is practically forcing us to work overtime!" "Why must employees hand over the information of their home addresses to the company, anyway?" "Since our boss has money to buy those luxury cars, she might as well give us the money right away!" The entire Internet bashes me for capitalizing on my charity, gloating about my wealth, and not knowing what my employees actually want. After receiving a bombardment of insulting and humiliating text messages, I decide to take the Internet's advice and call for a mandatory company meeting. "After receiving the sincere feedback from all the employees, I shall terminate the specialized pick-up service from today onward. Instead, I shall have it reclassified as a transportation allowance. Those who are eligible shall receive 100 dollars per month." As soon as the announcement is made, the entire company goes crazy.

At the Moretti Group's annual awards ceremony, I'd just stepped up to the podium when the screen behind me suddenly went black. A second later, it lit up with dozens of screenshots of private messages. The whole banquet hall erupted. The sender was me. The recipient was Vito Moretti, the company's chairman and the most feared Don in New York's underworld. "When's this month's money coming? Hurry up!" "I'm coming over tonight. Remember to leave the door unlocked for me." "If you don't say yes, I won't come see you tomorrow." The final screenshot showed a transfer for a hefty sum. Then Vito's chief secretary, Victoria Sloane, walked onto the stage. "Isabella is a gold digger! She's been secretly seducing the chairman for money, and she's even tried to meddle in how the company is run. "How does someone like that get to be the company's Employee of the Year?" Down in the audience, the executives looked thunderous, and countless employees stared at me with open contempt. Victoria walked up to me with her nose in the air. "Isabella, if you know what's good for you, you'll admit what you did in front of everyone and drop out of the running!" I looked at her smug, triumphant face and laughed. Wait. Isn't Vito my husband? I sweet-talk my own husband into giving me spending money, and she calls it seducing the chairman for cash?

As I head to see my boyfriend, Howard Schultz, who is working late, I get into a car accident. I call him dozens of times for help, but he doesn't answer a single one. Staring at his brightly lit office building not far away, I sink into despair. When I wake up in the hospital, I see a post from his subordinate. It's a picture showing the reflection of the two of them in the glass door, standing far closer than they should, with the caption, "What do I do when my boss is scolding me late at night?" Unwilling to believe it, I call him again. This time, he finally answers. My voice trembles. "Howard, I got into a car accident…" "Celine, I'm still working. I'll send my assistant to take care of it, okay? Be good. I'll see you after I come back from my business trip." I try to say more, but his angry shout suddenly cuts through the line. "Crystal Jennings! You're only allowed to bring one suitcase for this trip. Why do you have three? Do you think we're going on vacation?" Crystal Jennings—the new intern Howard just hired. I stare at the disconnected call, tears drying on my cheeks. I then call my parents instead. "I agree to the engagement you arranged."

Being a good saleswoman means knowing how to make money and save it. So when my landlord said someone wanted to split the rent with me, I jumped at the chance. My new roommate kept regular hours. He was neat and even knew how to cook. His only downside was that he barely talked. But to me, that was a plus. Quiet and emotionally stable. Perfect. Then came the year-end company meeting. As the top salesperson, I was invited to sit with the executives. The man at the head of the table looked up. His expression was cold and distant. My manager introduced him as the heir to Prescott Group. Except... I could've sworn he was my quiet roommate. I'm speechless. Here's the thing. I got drunk last night and accidentally ripped his pants and boxers. Think I still have time to sew them back?

Bored of having nothing to do at home, I hide my identity and apply for a job as a designer at the company my son, Jonathan Grady, runs. A few months later, I'm informed that the company wants to optimize its workforce, and I'm the first to get axed. "Why?" "Because you're menopausal. You can't get pregnant." Hearing that makes me scoff. What kind of absurd reason is that? "A designer uses her brains to do her job, no? When did a womb become so important?" I point at Sasha Johnson, who'd been hired before me and was now sitting at her desk, snacking on popcorn instead of working. "Her line compositions are still a complete mess, and she spends all of her time watching TV shows in the office. But just because she's pregnant, she's not included in the company's layoffs?" Fiona Lewis, the HR manager, looks at me as though I'm an idiot. "How can an old hag like you, who still has to work, compare yourself to her? She's pregnant with the boss' baby, you know. She's the future Mrs. Grady! The money we save from having to pay your salary can go toward buying her prenatal supplements." I freeze in shock. Did my son knock up one of his employees? But he told me he didn't want to have any kids!

Despite Chuck Garrison cheating on me seven times, I forgive him. He willingly hurts me for his first love, Rebecca Kerry, even though we've been married for seven years. In the second year of his openly pursuing me, Chuck takes the blow in my stead when a robber tries to stab me. I then promise him that no matter what he does, I'll forgive him up to seven times. I don't expect his passionate love to change immediately after we get married. The first time happens on our wedding anniversary. Chuck lies to me, telling me that he has a meeting to attend. In reality, he goes to pick up Rebecca, who has just returned to the country. The second time happens when Rebecca lies about being sick. Chuck doesn't hesitate for even a second and leaves, even though he's celebrating my birthday with me. The third time happens when Chuck hires Rebecca as his assistant. I stumble upon them hugging and kissing each other when I turn the corner. The sixth time happens when I'm pregnant. An unexpected issue occurs, but Chuck is accompanying Rebecca, so there's no one to take care of me. In the end, I suffered a miscarriage. I spend countless nights crying alone after being neglected. I force myself to endure everything because of the promise I made. Out of the seven chances I promised Chuck, there is only one chance left. This time, Chuck orders me to transfer ownership of my company, Starlight Group, to Rebecca. I say nothing as I sign the acquisition contract, hiding a divorce agreement among the documents before handing the stack of papers to him. This is the last time, Chuck. We will not be seeing each other anymore.

The first thing I do after getting off the plane is to text my wife, Ella Spencer, that I'm safe and sound. Since I'm too eager to send the text, I end up sending the text to my work group chat. Before I can delete the message, the new HR employee, Dexter Brooks, suddenly calls me on the phone. "You're fired." I question him immediately, "All I did was text the wrong group chat! How does that warrant a dismissal?" Dexter shouts at me immediately, "How dare you send such lovey-dovey messages on the company's group chat! I will not tolerate this behavior in my company!" His statement catches me off guard. "Your company?" Dexter's arrogance kicks up a few notches. "What, are you saying that this is your company? Ms. Spencer is my wife! Her company is naturally mine!" After a moment's silence, I send another text to the work group chat. "Ella Spencer, you must be feeling quite smug now, huh? Not only did you claim that the company is yours, but you also switched your own husband out for someone else."

The day before the long weekend, I stopped by the branch office to deliver a file in my capacity as chairman. I had barely stepped through the door when I saw my old college classmate, Whitney Sims, surrounded by her usual circle of admirers. One of them said enviously, "I heard your fiance, Shane, is taking you home for the holiday? That's basically meeting the family, right?" "And tomorrow night at the corporate gala, he's bringing you out for the first time? Looks like the position of Mrs. Wilson is already secured!" I didn't react. I lowered my gaze and walked straight toward the office. Whitney called out behind me, "Skylar? I sent you my wedding invitation this morning–why didn't you reply?" "Oh–right, I almost forgot. The wedding's at the Grand Bellevue. You need at least a million in assets just to get in. I'm guessing you don't qualify?" She tapped my shoulder lightly, a faint smile on her lips. "Tell you what–I'll have my fiance speak to your supervisor and get your name on the guest list for tomorrow's gala. You can come watch me have my moment. Think of it as a preview of my happily-ever-after." I didn't even look up. "I'm busy that night. I won't be going." The moment I finished speaking, the woman beside her shoved me. "Who do you think you are? You're just a clerk running paperwork between offices–what are you putting on airs for? "Our Whitney is engaged to the CEO! She's being nice offering you a seat–don't push your luck!" "And don't think we don't know–if you hadn't stolen Whitney's college thesis, how would you have even gotten hired?" I almost laughed. I was the only daughter of the Reed family. Before I had even finished college, my parents had already handed over Reed Group to me. I was the chairman. What interview would I ever need?

I had severe face blindness. How severe? I once mistook my company's new CEO for an intern and bossed him around for an entire month. "Benny, print this for me." "Benny, go easy on the sugar in my coffee today." "Benny, you've got an impressive work ethic. I'll put in a good word with the higher-ups and help you land a full-time position." Not once did he correct me. It wasn't until the company's annual gala that he finally walked onto the stage in a sharp suit. The entire room rose to its feet and erupted in applause. I stood frozen, my drink still in hand. A coworker grabbed my arm. "Natasha, isn't that the Benny you boss around every day? That's Benedict Carrington, our CEO!" By the next day, the entire company had heard about it. Behind my back, people accused me of being a scheming woman who had only pretended not to recognize the CEO to get close to him. Things got even more ridiculous online. The hashtag #TheGoldDiggerWhoBossedTheBossAroundForAMonth shot straight to the top of the trending charts. But I swore I hadn't been pretending. I genuinely couldn't recognize him! The real blow came later that same day. Benedict cornered me in the break room with a knowing smile, as if he'd planned the whole thing. "I hear you wanted to help me secure a full-time position," he said. "So how about give me the position of your boyfriend instead? What do you say?"

After our company's IPO approval is granted, my boyfriend, Derek Calloway, finally agrees to publicize our relationship at the celebratory banquet. Derek and I have been in a relationship for seven years. For so long, he refuses to make our relationship official. He always cites the fact that office romance is forbidden in the company, and that he, as the CEO, should follow through as a prime example. On the night of the banquet, I wait for the news to be broken with bated breath and unadulterated delight. But when Derek stands on the stage, he chooses to utter the name of the new recruit who has just joined the company for two months—Jocelyn Grant. "It's all thanks to Jocelyn's contributions to the project that our company gets to go public. She's the MVP of our company." I just stand beneath the stage, completely stunned. For a moment, I don't know how to react. I'm the main person in charge of that project, and I'm the one who's contributed the most to that project. Not only have I stayed up countless nights working hard on it, but I also got hospitalized a few times because of it. Soon, I receive Derek's text message. "Jocelyn has just joined this line of work. She needs a project to help spruce her resume up. Just let her receive the credits this once. "We'll discuss more on publicizing our relationship in the future." I can only grip my phone so tightly that my fingertips go white. Finally, I key in one word. "Okay." Jocelyn can have the project. She can also have my position as the director. Heck, she's free to have Derek, my now ex-boyfriend. I'd like to see how these assholes can pass the subsequent trials without me.

For three years, I had been Duncan Tohn’s executive assistant. I worked myself into the ground every day. Today, I had just finished the follow-up paperwork for an international conference when his pampered girlfriend, Morgan Eddy, cornered me in the break room. Her eyes were glistening with tears as she said she wanted me replaced. “I’m his girlfriend, and yet you’re the one who spends more than ten hours a day with him!” She bit her lip in annoyance. “From now on, he’s having a male assistant. Hand everything over.” I looked down and checked the handover list. “His personal calendar, overseas accounts, board authorizations, and the medical arrangements for the Tohn family estate, too? Has Mr. Tohn signed off on all this?” She looked at me with an arrogant expression and nodded at once. “You don’t need to ask him. He gave me signing authority, and he’s already agreed to let you go. Pack your things. You’re leaving today. Any objections?” I shook my head. I was barely holding back a laugh. “None.” I promptly printed my resignation letter and transferred administrator access for the CEO’s office. That night, I flew straight to Frostvik to see the northern lights. A month later, however, Tohn Corp’s shares went into free fall. The board held eight emergency meetings in a row. Duncan called me dozens of times before he finally got through. For the first time, he sounded almost pleading. “Come back. Name your terms.” By then, I was already in Mapleward. I was exchanging flirtatious glances with a handsome local. Distracted, I replied, “I’m sorry, Mr. Tohn, I’m afraid I’m a little busy now.”

My fiancée of seven years, Scarlett Blair, sits on my boss' lap, peeling grapes for him. At the annual company gala, he stands on stage and beams as he deliberately awards me the title of "Most Selfless Employee". The giant screen behind him doesn't display my accomplishments. Instead, it shows surveillance footage of my fiancée in a skimpy outfit and black stockings, giving him a private work report in his office. It's taken down almost immediately and cited as a technical glitch, but the laughter that erupts throughout the hall is deafening enough to bring the roof down. In an instant, all eyes are on me, yet I smile like a blind man and walk up to the stage to accept the award. "James, a man has to be open-minded if he wants to get ahead in life. Don't you agree?" Zachary Trent pats my cheek, his eyes brimming with mockery. I nod obsequiously. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Trent. Thank you for the advice." The guests think I'm a coward, that I'm willing to swallow my pride and sacrifice every ounce of my dignity for a paltry eight grand a month. Little do they know, my phone's practically vibrating itself to pieces. Once I slip into the deserted emergency stairwell, I wipe the smile off my face and dial the phone number registered to the prestigious family compound in the capital. The call connects almost instantaneously, and a woman's lazy yet aloof voice comes through. "What's the matter? Is my husband showing off your wife in front of the entire company again?"

I had been the company's top sales performer—the kind who brought in tens of millions in revenue. But just because I hadn't praised my boss' girlfriend in the company group chat, she fired me without hesitation and replaced me with her cousin. Not long after, the company's sales dropped straight to zero. That was when she had come to my door on her own to apologize. "Please, come back," she had begged. "My boyfriend said he'll break up with me if you don't return."

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!"

Vera Quinn and I spent seven years tearing each other apart in the corporate world. When we first started, she sabotaged my presentation slides, hoping to watch me humiliate myself in front of the board. I retaliated by flagging her fraudulent expense reports to HR, making sure her name was dragged through every department in the company. When we were both up for the director position, she locked me in a supply closet to make me miss the final interview. The moment I got out, I poached a major client she had been pursuing for six months, leaving her at the very bottom of the year-end performance rankings. In our industry, we were fire and water—completely incompatible. Then three years ago, the endless scheming finally felt hollow. I handed in my resignation and walked away from the industry for good. The day I packed my desk and left, Vera was leaning against the elevator door, her eyes full of mockery. "Giving up already? Mylo, a cowardly deserter like you deserves to starve on the streets". I hit the "close" button, swearing I never wanted to see her face again as long as I lived. Three years later, we crossed paths again at the industry’s annual gala. Vera was now the youngest partner in the industry. She looked at me as I stood there, humbling myself to pour drinks for an executive, and let out a sharp laugh. "It’s been a few years, and you’ve fallen this far? Working as a glorified escort to scrounge up some investments? What happened to that pride you used to fight me with?" But I wasn't there to secure any investment. I was there to beg that executive for a few more days to pay off the predatory loans my father had left behind. I just needed enough time to sign the consent form for my stomach cancer surgery with a clear conscience.

I'm the only daughter of the Genovese family in New York. To test my husband Jayden Henderson's competence, my Dad had me stage a surprise inspection at the company he runs. The moment I walked in, some bleach-blonde in a tight dress was staring at the shredder like she'd just discovered fire. "Oh my God, this thing is so cool. Can it literally shred anything?" She said that as she grabbed a contract off someone's desk and started feeding it in. A coworker dove across three desks to stop her: "Hazel, no! That's a million-dollar account!" "Oopsie! My bad!" She giggled, then her hand holding the cup gave a little tremor, and the whole drink splashed right onto the power switch. Sparks flew. The lights died. Twenty computers crashed simultaneously. The entire office sat in stunned, furious silence. I grabbed the nearest intern and asked who hired her. He whispered back in terror: "That's Mrs. Henderson—the CEO's wife. Word is she actually owns this company." Mr. Henderson? I speed-dialed Dad right there: "Dad, forget the inspection. Get the divorce papers ready. Jayden and I have a bone to pick."

Before the holidays, I visit an authorized car dealership to conduct an inspection. Having noticed that the flowers at the entrance aren't arranged properly, I decide to move them. Suddenly, a man clad in a suit and wears a manager's lapel tosses me a broom haughtily. "You must be the new intern, yeah? Today, the CEO will be conducting an inspection here. You'd better clean every inch of this place meticulously. Even the washrooms must be spick and span!" I don't bother moving an inch. My brows are tangled in a frown as I sink in deep thought. I never told anyone about my arrival today. How did this manager find out about my schedule, to begin with? Upon realizing that I'm not moving, the man hurls a piece of dirty rag at my face immediately. "I'll have you know that I'm your superior here! You can forget about using the Gen-Z workplace techniques on me! "If you slack off one more time, I'll fire you right away!" After graduating from college, I've just started learning the ropes in my family's company for half a year before my dad decides to assign me to a branch company. He even issues me an ultimatum. I'll only get to go home whenever I produce some actual results. Here I am, worried about how I'm going to exert my authority and prove myself to my dad, when the perfect catalyst just comes knocking on my door.