Melodramatic Short Stories & Independence Workplace Novels

In my previous life, my brother and fiancé teamed up to sabotage my company for the sake of my so-called best friend. After I went bankrupt, they stood beside her watching me collapse in the pouring rain, laughing mockingly at my pathetic state. "Linda Turner, you look as pathetic as a drenched dog!" they sneered. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the project bidding meeting three years earlier. In my previous life, when my company was just starting out, my brother and fiancé had warned me against using the Turner and Peterson family connections. They claimed it wouldn't be fair to others, but then turned around and handed projects to my best friend under various pretexts, just to see her smile. Now that I was back, I watched them secretly manipulating things just like before, giving my projects to my best friend. I finally gave up on them completely. When they found out I was leaving the country, my brother and fiancé set off fireworks all night, celebrating that they'd finally gotten rid of me, the burden. But three years later, at the Trada Corp's bidding meeting, I took the stage as the CEO's wife—and they couldn't hide the redness in their eyes.

It was only in the eighth year of our marriage that I discovered my husband had a mistress in the neighborhood. Her place had the same layout as mine, except her furnishings were more luxurious. He was a good husband for her, meticulously caring for his young and beautiful wife. They were even expecting a baby. She sent me a message, eager to get rid of and replace me. She had forgotten I was the one who had been through hard times with him, Clyde Sherwood, and fought alongside him for more than a decade. Her pregnancy was what they both wanted, but there was no way I would allow things to work out the way they anticipated. Taking advantage of his conflicted feelings, I made sure he didn't have any more assets. Everything came with a price. Not only would I make him fall from grace, but I would also make him rot in ruins.

I stare at the email on my screen, unable to move my fingers. Tomorrow is our company's crucial product launch, and I just learn that the patent for the algorithm I spent three years developing is now filed under Matthew Ashford's new assistant, Sophie Bennett. I storm into Matthew's office to confront him. Sophie sits on his desk with her legs crossed, looking completely innocent. She claims that she filled out the form by mistake. "It's just a clerical error. The patent still belongs to the company. What's the big deal?" Matthew stands up from his chair, positioning himself in front of Sophie. I can't believe what I am hearing. "Matthew, this is my research!" "Emma, you're thirty-five. Why are you picking a fight with a twenty-three-year-old intern?" He frowns. Then, he turns to Sophie. "Starting tomorrow, you're the new CTO. Emma needs… some time off." I'm utterly stunned. A decade of marriage and five years dedicated to building a company together have been shattered by a few casual words from him. Thirty minutes later, Sophie posts a photo on social media of herself sitting on Matthew's lap. They are both clinking champagne glasses. "So lucky to have the best boss ever. I'll make sure to be his loyal kitten." Below that, Matthew leaves a comment—three red heart emojis. I shut my laptop and pick up my phone. "Hello. Is this Mr. David Langley from Novara Group of Sundale Valley? This is Emma Whitmore. I've changed my mind. I'm ready to join you." I pause. "And by the way, about that unreleased algorithm upgrade, I have the complete technical blueprint. Make me an offer." Later, I fly to Tallisport with an eight-figure check in hand, while Matthew goes frantic trying to find me.

I am a miserable nurse. During the Halloween season, there was a three day break but I was not given any days off. Upset, I decided to join a game featuring a haunted hospital. There was an old man wrapped in IV tubes chasing after a player. I sprinted forward and shoved him into the chair. After effortlessly jabbing the IV line back in him, I told him off, "It’s just an IV drip, not an action movie. Sit. Down. Move again and I’ll strap you to the chair!" The old man did a double take before blinking in a flustered manner. "Sorry for causing you trouble, ma'am." At night, children ghosts began to run and laugh wildly in the corridor. I grabbed one in each hand and hauled them up. "If you’re not going to stay put in the ward, I’ll give you an injection!" Why did I still have to work in a game? I was so tired. The other players cried out, "Clem! That's a ghost. Are you not scared?" I sneered, "Sorry, but burnt-out workers hold more grudges than ghosts ever could."

Every time the housekeeper came to cook, she brought her daughter along. I felt sorry for them — single mother, no support — so I never said a word. Until one afternoon, I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and found a note taped to the back. It read: "Freeloaders aren't allowed to eat here." I tore the note off and turned to the housekeeper. "What is this supposed to mean?" The girl shot me a look of pure contempt and let out a cold laugh. "You're just a maid. You sponge off other people's homes day after day — how are you not ashamed? If you can't afford food, go beg on the street. People like you, mooching off everyone, make me sick." I stared at her, completely thrown. The housekeeper rushed over and lowered her voice. "Ms. Wolfe, my daughter doesn't know I'm the maid here. She saw how hard I work and felt sorry for me — that's why she put up the note." "And she has serious germophobia. She can't stand eating with strangers. Wait outside until she's done eating. Don't come back in." Before I could answer, she shoved me out the front door. The door slammed shut behind me with a final bang. I stood there on the steps and calmly dialed the police. "Hello. There's been a break-in at my home. Someone's locked me out. I need an officer here now."

This bottle girl, new to the club, always demanded I serve her. And only me. She was good for business, so I let it slide. Then, one weekend, two in the morning. I’m in bed in the penthouse. She calls, barking orders at me. “I’m in the ‘Paradise’ suite. Get up here with a bottle and get me right.” I almost laughed. The girl was an idiot. “It’s 2 AM. Are you ordering me around? I’m not your bodyguard or your dealer.” She sneered, her voice dripping with arrogance. “My cousin is the club manager. You should feel honored to serve me. By the way, your ‘protection fee’ is late this month. Get your ass over here now, or I’ll have my cousin dump you in the Chicago River.” Oh. She had no idea. The docks along the Chicago River… they’re mine. All of them.

The day the company was exposed for accounting fraud, my CEO husband did the unthinkable. To protect his favorite assistant, Ivy Kane, he called a press conference and publicly pinned all the blame on me, vowing to make sure I paid the price. Ivy put on a heartbroken expression and said, "Olivia, I warned you a long time ago not to misuse company funds, let alone falsify financial records. Why wouldn't you listen?" My coworkers stared at me in shock, expecting me to defend myself. Instead, I smiled, accepted every accusation, and voluntarily resigned. My husband thought I had finally learned my lesson. He lowered his voice and promised, "When this is all over, I'll make sure you get your job back. And when the time comes, I'll make our relationship public. Consider it my way of making it up to you.” What he didn't know was that, to protect the company's interests, the chairman instructed me on opening day to install monitoring software on every computer in the office. The moment those system logs were retrieved, their lies would fall apart on their own. And when that happened, what awaited them wouldn't just be massive financial penalties, it would be prison.

I'm the type who has a ton of allergies. That's why my family has specifically hired a nutritionist to help prepare and monitor my meals while paying her a salary of 7,500 dollars per month. During my lunch break, the new intern, Julia Hall, suddenly tells me, "Emma, the food that you bring to work looks very healthy! You can prepare another portion for me from now on! "It so happens that I'm on a diet as well. Think of it as me going down the journey of dieting with you. I'll pay you five dollars per meal. You can earn quite a lot of money from this side gig, you know?" I'm flabbergasted when I hear Julia's words. The ingredients meant for my meals are specifically flown in using private jets. Not to mention, my family pays the nutritionist a lucrative salary. Five dollars can't even cover the transportation fees needed for my meals! I shake my head and turn Julia down on the spot. I refuse to give her a chance to use any plot holes against me. But the next day at noon, I've just left my desk to refill my water bottle. When I return, I realize that Julia has already taken my lunchbox away and has shared the food with the other colleagues while chatting animatedly with them. My lips curl into a cold smirk. Since Julia insists on taking advantage of me, then I might as well teach her a lesson she will never forget.

My executive boyfriend, Marcus Winters, had always wanted the regional president seat. Then his favorite protégée, Sophie Moresby, complained that I always got the spotlight, and he deliberately sabotaged my car. The crash broke both my hands, leaving me unable to compete in the design contest that could decide the board vote. He handed my entry slot to Sophie and expected me to accept it quietly. When I confronted him, he said it was only one competition and that, as design director, I should give younger employees a chance. To prove his "fairness," he stripped me of my director title and docked six months of my pay to compensate the team. Everyone waited for me to fight back. Instead, I nodded, calm and silent. Marcus was pleased. He promised that once his promotion came through, he would restore my position and publicly announce our relationship. I smiled coldly and told him we were done. I had already submitted my resignation. What Marcus did not know was that the board and I had made a private agreement: if I won the championship and secured the decisive vote, the person I named would become regional president. I had been preparing to name him. Now he had not only replaced me with Sophie, but also encouraged her to submit a fraudulent design. Once the contest ended, the only thing waiting for him was termination, a ruined career, and a bill he could never afford.

One drunk night with my best friend's brother, Eddie Sutton, and I became his secret girlfriend. Eight years later, my family finally snapped. They gave me a deadline and lined up a guy for me to marry. "Eddie, my family gave me a deadline. I have to get married this year." He went quiet, then kissed my forehead. Same old answer. "Just wait a little longer." Not long after, I found a post from his intern, Gina Yapp. The photo was of her and Eddie's marriage license. Caption: [CEO secured.] What I couldn't get in eight years, she got in three months. I swallowed the bitterness and hit Like. Then I commented: [Congrats. Wishing you both a happy life.] After that, I accepted the wedding date my family had set. My phone rang. For the first time, Eddie sounded scared. "Don't take it the wrong way. I only got the license with Gina because I lost a bet with my friends—" I cut him off. "Eddie, I'm getting married."

To help my husband, Ryan Whitaker, compete for the director position, I spend an entire month securing the sale of a luxury apartment worth tens of millions of dollars. On the day the contract is signed, Ryan hands the primary contract to Lucinda Brooks, a new employee who has just joined the company. When I demand an explanation, his eyes flicker with guilt. Still, he argues, "Lucinda studied abroad. She is more academically accomplished than you, and her Iridian is better. The client happens to have a foreign business partner, so it'll be smoother if she takes the lead on the signing." As he speaks, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, expecting me to compromise like I always do. But this time, I don't smile but continue to pull a long face. That very afternoon, I submit my resignation letter and hand over every core client under my management. Ryan is furious as he tears up the resignation letter and mocks me. "When I married you, I didn't even care that you only graduated from high school. Why are you picking a fight with a newcomer now?" I laugh. It's true that I don't have an impressive educational background, but he's forgotten one most crucial thing. I didn't earn my title as the company's sales champion through academic credentials.

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.

While packing Ethan's flight bag, I found a custom solo wings pin. The engraving on the back read: For Lark, to celebrate your first solo. Beneath the box sat the receipt for Skyler's flight school tuition, paid in full by Ethan, along with a photograph. In the photo, she was sitting in the pilot's seat. Ethan's gloved hand rested over hers on the control yoke. Seven years ago, I had sat in that same seat. Back then, I was one step away from my first solo flight, but Ethan talked me out of it again and again, always claiming it was "for my own good." He said flying was dangerous, that someone had to stay home and take care of things. I put down my logbook, pressed the wrinkles out of every one of his captain's uniforms, and spent seven years living by his flight schedule. Only now did I finally understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to take anyone flying. He just didn't want to take me. What made it even more absurd was that the night Skyler first flew through the clouds, I was alone in a hospital, losing our baby. I called him over a dozen times. At three in the morning, he finally called back, his voice flat and indifferent. "I just took Lark through the clouds. Next time something comes up, give me a heads-up." I put the wings pin back exactly where I found it, then pulled the crumpled ultrasound printout from the bottom of the drawer and tucked it inside the logbook that had been gathering dust for seven years. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to look back. He convinced me to leave the pilot's seat, then turned around and put another woman in the sky. So I would leave him and take back the sky that had always been mine.

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."

I was an employee of Starmax Group, the country’s business giant, and the husband of its president, Willow Lawrence. To keep our love untainted, I refused every shortcut she offered me and stubbornly chose to work my way up from the bottom, determined to prove through my own abilities that I was worthy of her. Until Jasper White came along. He was more handsome than I was and had a more tragic past. The way he pretended to be strong easily brought out Willow’s instinct to protect him. Thus, Willow personally gave him the promotion meant for me at the most pivotal moment in my career. Afterward, she offered me hefty ‘compensation’. I did not argue or make a scene. I accepted it all with a smile, completely at peace with the outcome. Because from that moment on, Willow was no longer my lover. She was simply my ‘top-tier investor’ and a reliable ‘human ATM’.