Historias cortas de Tragic Love y novelas con Independence ambientadas en Workplace

At my five-year mating anniversary celebration, my best friend who had vanished years ago suddenly appeared with a six-year-old child. The child's father was my mate, Alexander, I am the Alpha King's only daughter. Alexander was one of the top five Alphas in the northern territories. He pursued me for five years before I agreed to bond with him. We even had an adorable four-year-old daughter together. Yet my mate not only refused to explain his betrayal, but now he expected me to accept my friend and her child into our home. He favored the illegitimate son in everything, even allowing him to harm our daughter. When I finally rejected him and found a new father for my daughter, he used the entire Stormfang Pack to try to win me back.

As soon as Danielle Bradford has recovered from her postpartum period, she brings her baby to the county clerk's office to register for the baby's birth certificate. "My baby's full name is Taylor Gardner. Her father is Matthew Gardner." The employee types on the keyboard, but his brows draw tighter afterward. "The system has flagged another child with the same name under the same father." His words leave Danielle momentarily stunned. Thinking that her ears have deceived her, she blurts out, "That's impossible! Our baby has just turned one month old!" But Danielle feels her phone buzzing in her pocket before she can finish speaking. She taps on the screen, only to see a photo sent by Matthew's assistant, Meghan Landry. In the photo, Matthew has his left arm wrapped around Meghan's waist while carrying a five-year-old boy with his right arm. The three of them stand in front of a kindergarten's entrance with smiles so bright that they practically sting Danielle's eyes. On the boy's chest is a nametag that clearly says "Taylor Gardner".

To help my wife secure a director position, I spent an entire month working on a single deal, negotiating back and forth until I locked in the sale of a multimillion-dollar luxury apartment. On the day we were supposed to sign, Stella Frost handed the main contract to Tanner Davis, a new hire who had barely been with the company. When I asked Stella about it, she hesitated, her eyes shifting away before she answered. "Tanner studied overseas. His background is stronger than yours, and his Waldreich is better. The client has a foreign partner. It'll go more smoothly if he takes the lead." As she spoke, she slipped her arm through mine, like she always did when she expected me to back down. This time, I didn't smile. I just looked at her. That afternoon, I submitted my resignation and finished handing over every major client under my name. Stella tore the letter apart in front of me, her frustration turning quickly into something sharper. "When I married you, I didn't even care that you only had a high school education. And now you're making an issue out of a new hire?" I let out a quiet laugh. She was right. My education wasn't impressive. But she had forgotten one thing. I hadn't become the top closer in the city because of a degree.

My CEO husband had always been known to be professional, but he somehow handed over three years of my hard work to his childhood friend, Millie Quess. My eyes were red as I demanded, "I fought for this for over three years. How could you simply appoint her as the marketing manager before me?" Steve held my gaze and sighed. "I will make it up to you. But Millie has yet to establish herself in the company. She needs this more than you do. Also, call me Mr. Lahm—at the office, I'm your boss, not your husband." A stalemate ensued, only for Millie to mess up a ledger. She ran crying to Steve, who, despite his professionalism, ignored the millions of dollars lost and tenderly comforted her. Utterly disappointed, I took the wedding ring off my finger and dropped it on his desk. "That's enough. I'm resigning, effective immediately… As for you, we're getting a divorce." He had no idea that my father was the most powerful mafia Don of Sicily, or that his successes were the result of my business acumen and pulling strings behind the scenes. Once I was gone, all he had now would be reduced to nothing.

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.

During the thunderstorm, I struggled through the Pack Institute alone, dragging a heavy feed cart behind me. My rain-soaked lab coat clung to my skin, and my shoes were caked with mud. The message I had sent through the mind-link to my fated mate, Arthur Voss, half an hour ago was still unanswered. "Could you come down and bring me an umbrella?" I should have heard back from him instantly, but there was still no response. The power had gone out in the animal facility during the downpour. I pulled out my nearly dead phone and found Arthur's number. He was listed as the lab's emergency contact. My finger hovered over the call button. Then I looked up. Through the thick curtain of rain, I saw two figures sitting side by side inside the glass-walled lab. They were my mate, Arthur, and Lina Brooks, a junior researcher in our lab. He was gently ruffling Lina's hair. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything for you." The instruments on the table were the same ones I had begged Arthur to teach me to use three years ago. His voice was as gentle as I'd ever heard it. I remembered how I had been when I first met Arthur. Back then, I was too scared to take a cab alone. When my wolf spiraled out of control, I would panic. When problems came up, I would hide. When an experiment failed, I would call him for help and keep him on the phone for three hours. Every single time, he brushed aside my pleas for help. "Irene, you need to solve your own problems. You can't keep waiting for someone to rescue you." So I learned. I gritted my teeth and handled everything alone. When samples were contaminated, I tracked down the cause myself. When a project fell apart, I dealt with it on my own. I spent countless nights teaching myself technical skills that had once seemed impossible to master. Yet none of it ever earned me even a hint of his approval. I looked down. This time, I didn't hesitate. With the last sliver of battery, I deleted Arthur's number.

My girlfriend, Olivia, had one way of measuring how much I loved her: how fast I replied. In the two years we dated, she blocked me 88 times. The first time, I was in the shower and missed her call. The 17th time, I was bringing her coffee when I missed a message asking for extra ice. The 56th time, I was at dinner with a client and didn't respond quickly enough to a video she'd sent me. This time, I worked until ten and missed the 9:50 p.m. movie she'd asked me to see with her. I told her there was a problem with the project and my manager wouldn't let me leave. She just laughed. "Anyone who really loves me would make it to a movie even with ten minutes' notice." When I got home that night, she'd changed the door code and removed my fingerprint from the lock. I sat outside all night. After work the next day, I went to her favorite jeweler and bought the necklace she'd wanted for the past three months. I kept telling myself I hadn't done enough. I just needed to do a better job balancing work and our relationship. She was in the shower when I got home. Her phone lit up on the dining table. A notification from a group chat called "Do Not Bring Him Tonight" flashed across the screen. Olivia, her childhood friend Ethan, and my best friend Daniel were all in it. Daniel had sent a voice message. "Olivia, I'll keep Chris at work late again tomorrow. Let's see if he chooses overtime or you." Ethan replied almost immediately with a laugh. "I found another beautiful piece of jewelry. It costs three times his salary. Send it to him and see if he chooses his paycheck or you." That was when I finally understood. I hadn't failed to prove that I loved her. They'd been setting me up to fail from the beginning. And if that was how things really were, I was done.