Plot Twists 短篇故事與 Male POV Workplace 小說

My father started out hauling cargo on the docks. By the end, he'd carved out seven city blocks, three harbor warehouses, and two casinos along the East Coast. I was six when he died. His will was a single line: “The family belongs to Luca. Let them choose who runs it.” The Family Council appointed Isabella Conti, my father's most trusted lieutenant, to run the family in my place. Isabella was good at it. She pulled the Vitale name back from the edge of ruin and made it the most respectable crime family on the East Coast. And me? I only came back to the estate for two weeks each summer, to soak up the sun, drink red wine, and do absolutely nothing. Then Isabella married an outsider named Riccardo Falco. On their wedding day, he cut off my access to the estate. “We're turning this place into a reception hall. Find yourself somewhere else to live.” After that, he set up a holding company in my name, with Isabella running it. Last night, in front of everyone, he had the nerve to say, “Luca, you're not a kid anymore. Time to learn to stand on your own two feet.” “Your distributions are over. From now on, you get three thousand dollars a month.” “Learn to manage your money. Stop wasting it.” Isabella raised her glass and nodded. “Riccardo's only looking out for you.” I looked at them and almost laughed. Three million dollars a month in payouts, slashed to three thousand? All thirty-seven of the family's businesses ultimately belonged to me.

After a grueling year of training abroad on the company's dime, I came home holding an OEM certification for our high-end production line. Only three people in the country had it. I couldn't wait to cash in my stock options and finally give my girlfriend, Nora, a home of our own. But when I got back to the office, there was no celebration waiting. Just three notices. [Finance: $50,000 travel reimbursement rejected. $20,000 in salary frozen as a performance hold, to be released after your review is passed.] [HR: Your sponsored training carries a mentoring obligation. You must train three qualified technicians within one month of returning, as your assessment. Fail, and your travel costs will not be reimbursed and your frozen salary will be forfeited.] [Direct Manager, Kevin: Turn over all core technical documentation. Effective tomorrow, you're reassigned to the factory floor for mentoring.] I gripped the three notices and headed for the manager's office to demand an explanation. I pushed the door open and froze. Nora, my girlfriend of three years, was sitting on Kevin's lap, her clothes half undone. Our eyes met. All she gave me was one cold line. "Ethan, since you've already seen it, let's just break up." I backed out of the office without a word. I walked past all the eager faces waiting for a show, went back to my desk, and finally answered the email that had been sitting in my inbox for a week. [I've decided to accept your offer. I can start in a month.] One month. Everything this company owed me, I was going to take back myself.

My boss, Steven Swanson, traps me at the office by guilt-tripping me into staying loyal and makes me work my fingers to the bone. From the moment I joined, I knew that the company was on the brink of collapse. When a rival company tries to poach me with an offer of triple my salary, my first thought is that Steven even sold his own home just to ensure we always got our paychecks on time. So, with tears in my eyes, I push away the headhunter's contract, determined to help the company weather the storm. After three months of pulling all-nighters, I have a heart attack and die at my desk. As my consciousness fades, I overhear Steven chatting lightheartedly in the next room with someone else. "That fool was just so easy to exploit. All it took was a little talk about loyalty to keep him working around the clock. He'd probably never guess that I own the rival company, too."

After I left prison, my best friend and I opened an auto repair shop together. He provided the money, while I brought the skills. We agreed from the start to split the profits seventy-thirty. Thanks to my talent for performance tuning and custom car builds, our shop quickly became the talk of the local wealthy car‑enthusiast scene. In our first year alone, we cleared a net profit of eight million. When I went to collect my share at the end of the year, my so‑called brother handed me a check for only one hundred thousand. “The business is doing well because I became friends with those rich kids,” he said with a dismissive laugh. “Anyone can modify cars. Do not tell me you actually think you are someone special.” He looked at me with open contempt. “Most repair shops pay their mechanics six grand a month at best. I am giving you ten. You should be grateful.” I stood there in stunned silence, and anger rose in my chest. I had trusted him like family, only to discover that my loyalty had been repaid with lies and betrayal. I quit on the spot without another word. I rented the workshop across the street and opened a repair shop of my own. Six months later, he showed up at my door with all his arrogance gone. “If you come back,” he pleaded, “I will pay you five hundred thousand a year. That should be enough to keep you with me this time… right?”

I'm known throughout my family as the resident tattletale, and I refuse to let even the smallest offense slide. When I was three, Aunt Cassandra stole a piece of my cheesecake. That same night, I ran to Grandma's bedside and wailed as though someone had died. The next morning, Aunt Cassandra stepped out of her room with her left foot first, and Grandma beat her so badly that she ended up with a broken leg. When I was eight, my cousin, Penelope Georgiou, secretly hid her lunch money inside her shoe. I immediately tipped off my Uncle Reuben. Penelope not only received a beating, but also got searched down to her underwear and lost every last dollar. From then on, Mom established a new family rule. No one is allowed to sneak food, hide money, or give me any reason to start talking. After graduating from college, I conceal my identity and take a job at the family company. Dad holds my hand, his face lined with worry. "The company is crawling with snakes and backstabbers. Treat it like entertainment, keep your head down, and stay out of the drama. Most importantly, keep your mouth shut and don't start tattling. Let your sister enjoy a few peaceful days for once!" I follow his advice so well that, after three months, everyone at the company assumes I'm a spineless pushover. Then, an intern named Finley Tatum joins the company, steals my proposal, and puts his own name on it. "A nobody with no connections can't possibly beat me out for a full-time position. After all, my sister is the CEO of this company." Melanie Ashcroft, the supervisor, is quick to suck up to him. "Once his sister takes full control of the company, low-level nobodies like you will be packing your bags and leaving," she says. Remembering Dad's warning, I keep my mouth firmly shut and don't say a word. However, he only told me not to talk. My hands still work perfectly well. I immediately text my sister, Sabrina Georgiou. "Sabrina, your dear little brother says I'm getting fired as soon as you take over the company."

My boss, Patrick Hoffman, has made a bad investment that fails. When the board wants someone to be held accountable for the loss, he makes me the fall guy. Now that I've been fired from the company, I can no longer make my mortgage payments. My wife, Georgia Lowe, ends up falling seriously ill as well. In dire need of money, I ask Patrick for my severance pay. Sitting in his luxury car, he simply tosses me a few hundred dollars, saying, "You expect me to give you severance pay? I lost over a billion dollars because of you, Heath! How dare you ask me for money? "Here. Take these hundred-dollar bills and buy your wife a decent coffin!" My fists clench as I watch him drive off. Later that night, I drop a bombshell in a group chat filled with investors and business owners. "Seeking employment—bringing years of professional experience in cooking the books to the table. My former boss has nothing but praise for my abilities!"

The company janitor suffers a heart attack, and I race toward the elevator with him on my back. But the new COO, Alexis Brown, refuses to let us in with the excuse that we're dirty and smelly. I beg her, but she just scoffs and has security pin me to the floor. Then she takes the elevator down and deliberately presses every floor button to delay us. The janitor misses the critical window for treatment and dies on my back. The next day, Alexis calls a company meeting and shifts the blame on me. She tries to fire me for causing a disturbance at work and even demands compensation for her emotional distress. I look at her coldly before putting the security footage up on the big screen. Then, I say, "Ms. Brown, you left your own father to die. He sacrificed everything to put you through college. How are you going to pay for that?"

At the award-giving ceremony of the end-of-the-year gala, my boss, George White, suddenly announces that he will be adding a bonus round on a whim. "This is the annual department evaluation! The department that comes last shall come onto the stage and receive a tiny encouragement from me!" The huge screen lights up at that moment. The sales achievements accumulated by all departments are being shown in a ranking system. The sales department is ranked first. The operations department comes second, and the marketing department gets third place. As for the administrative department, the sales achievements shown on the screen are none. After all, that department has no KPI to achieve at all. George beams at us from the administrative department. "Everyone from the administrative department, come on up and receive your prize!" Two people can be seen carrying a basket of brooms up the stage. Everyone bursts into laughter instantly. "Come now, sweep away your bad luck with the brooms! Try not to come up as the bottom-ranked department again next year!" George personally thrusts the brooms into our hands. Camera flashes go off beneath the stage—people are clearly taking photos of us. The people from the sales department are the ones laughing the hardest. "Finally, the peeps from the administrative department are getting the recognition they deserve!"

My sister, Gizanne Miller, is the founder and CEO of Miller Corporation. I hide my identity and join the company as an intern. However, the Head of HR, Dorothy Kellan, tells me that after three months as an intern, I will not be offered a permanent position, and that all my wages from the internship will be withheld. "Why?" "You took three days off." I look at Dorothy, almost amused. "First of all, that was bereavement leave. Second, I followed the proper procedure when I applied for it. And third..." I turn to look at another intern who started on the same day as me, Ethan Holte. "He takes days off every month to take care of his girlfriend who suffers from menstrual pain. Why does he get to stay?" Dorothy looks at me with disdain. "He's related to the boss; that's why. Besides, his girlfriend's period pain is so severe it's practically life-threatening. But you? You just lost your grandmother. That's all. Why do you think that you're entitled to take time off?"

At the company's afterparty, my assistant, Charlie Langford, lodges a complaint against me while holding a stack of racy photos. "Ms. Spencer, after you slept with me, you told me that you'd take responsibility for me. Why are you entering a marriage alliance with another family soon? "Who did you take me for? A plaything? Then I might as well jump off this building right now just to prove my innocence!" H-Hey now! The only time I've made private contact with Charlie is when I had my driver, Lorelei Green, give him a ride half a month ago purely out of convenience! How on earth did Charlie warp that encounter into having physical intimacy with me? Moreover, I'm a straight man! Why would I even have that sort of relationship with Charlie, to begin with?

Over the holidays, I led my team through eight straight days of overtime to keep our company's newly launched video app stable. We even spent New Year's Eve at the office. The app ran flawlessly and the reviews poured in. Then my team and I received a disciplinary notice: "Engineering employees repeatedly worked late into the night, causing unnecessary use of company resources. The department is hereby reprimanded, and this month's salary will be withheld as a penalty." I took my phone straight to the newly appointed vice president. He looked me up and down with open contempt. "You're thirty-five years old and all you know how to do is write code. The only reason the company hasn't cut you already is out of respect for the old days. You still don't know your place?" I refused to believe it and called Garrett Voss, the man I'd spent sixteen years building the company beside. He rejected every call. Once I finally saw them for what they were, I laughed, resigned that same day, and walked out. After all, I was the one who built the server platform keeping that app alive. Without it, I wanted to see just how long their precious app could keep running.

My hands were completely full with a massive stack of files, so I dropped a quick message in the team group chat: [Anyone down to pick up lunch for me? I’ll cover a coffee for your trouble.] Brandon Cole, the brand-new intern, saw it and immediately chimed in to offer a hand. When he handed me the takeout container, he casually let out a heavy sigh and looked down at his phone. "Man, I was just scrolling Instagram and saw Starbucks came out with this new iced strawberry lemonade. It’s like six bucks, but I’ve never tried it." My finger froze over the ordering app on my screen. My entire lunch, including the delivery fee, was about eleven dollars. Still, looking at the eager, expectant puppy-dog look on Brandon’s face, I didn't say a word. I quietly added the six-dollar Starbucks drink to my order and checked out. Brandon’s face instantly lit up. "You're the best, man," he beamed, leaning in. "Seriously, hit me up whenever you need anything else." The next morning, I stepped into the office, my bag barely off my shoulder and my badge not even scanned yet. Brandon was already standing at my desk. He slammed a takeout container down in front of me with a proud smile. "Hey, Jay! I went ahead and got you lunch today." He patted the lid of the container like he'd done me a massive favor. "Chipotle bowl from down the street, twelve bucks. The delivery fee is the same as yesterday, though. I'll take a vanilla latte from Starbucks." He didn't even pause to let me react. "Light ice, blonde espresso, no foam, in a Venti size. It comes out to seven fifty. Thanks, man!"

I was laid off. Having reached middle age and lacking any special skills, I could only work as a warehouse manager in a private company. On the first day of work, I saw a large, dusty object in the corner. An imported precision instrument worth four million dollars sat there as scrap metal. My new colleague scoffed. "Stop looking. The boss spent a fortune on it. Even ten experts couldn't handle it. It's just a decoration." I walked up and touched the familiar body of the machine. "I can fix this." The entire workshop fell silent. My boss came upon hearing the news. He looked at me with contempt. "If you can fix it, I'll give you half of my shares. If not, you'll pay with your life."

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.

Because I ate three of the company's apples, my boss fired me on the spot. "This company has no use for an employee like you, someone who abuses their position to help themselves to company property." For ten whole years, I stood by this studio as it grew from a tiny backroom operation into what it is today. The toughest orders, the most difficult clients, the projects that left everyone gasping for air. Nearly all of them were carried on my shoulders. And now, just three apples had become my boss's "proof" that I was "misappropriating company resources." Worse, they got me branded as a petty freeloader. I didn't argue. I took out my phone and dialed Matt Kilcher's number. "Mr. Kilcher, about that million-dollar photo shoot we finalized, there's no need to sign with this studio. Every order from here on out goes to my new team."

I sat in the driver's seat as the GPS chimed, "You've arrived at Northpoint Corp. Check-in successful." I looked up. Graves. Nothing but graves. My phone buzzed. My boss tagged me in the group chat: [Zane Zander, system says you checked in ten minutes ago. Where the hell are you? The whole company's waiting. Learned how to spoof your GPS to slack off?] Cold sweat slid down my back. I stared at the fresh headstone outside my window. My photo was on it. My hands shook. I tried to send my boss a video—no signal. Just dead bars. No service. So how did I check in? Worse— In the rearview mirror, someone in my exact outfit rose slowly from behind a dirt mound. Could it be... Was I already "dead"?

On my first day at work, I received a carpool notice. [I'm three weeks pregnant and the company is quite far from my home.] [After verification, your car exceeds 400,000 dollars and has been on the road for less than a year. It meets my vehicle requirements.] [From now on, you will be responsible for sending me to and from work every day. You mustn't be late.] Looking at the message, I laughed out of sheer anger. I usually had a dedicated driver for my outings. After starting work, I had my family buy this inconspicuous car to keep things low-key. I replied directly: [No thanks!] Unexpectedly, the next day, Xenia Salter exploited her authority over the attendance records and marked me as arriving late and leaving early and deducted my salary. Since she was so shameless, she should not blame me for what was to come.

My boss, Kyle Brown, had just processed payroll when Sam Jefferson, the trainee I had been mentoring, tossed me his phone. He said, "Can you hold this for me while I use the bathroom?" I took it without thinking, then froze when I saw the screen. That was because a notification had just popped up: [This month's salary has been deposited. Total: $4,692.00.] I had been with this company for eight years, and I only made one thousand dollars a month. When I was hired, Kyle had told me that we were a startup. As long as I worked hard, I would make big money eventually. But over the years, Kyle had traded in one Mercedes after another while my salary kept shrinking. At present, my savings were less than four thousand dollars. I was close to not being able to afford the medical bills for my younger sister, Eva Rivers, who was very sick and bedridden. Meanwhile, the trainee I was mentoring made close to four thousand seven hundred dollars a month. I stayed quiet for a moment, then turned and asked the employee beside me how much he made. He stammered for a long time and would not answer. I understood it then. I picked up my phone and opened the recruitment message a competitor had sent me a few days earlier.

The entire company was racing to get the year off to a strong start on the first day after our holiday break. I was the only one openly staring out the window, doing nothing. No one bothered me because I helped the boss make an extra 200 million dollars last year. So, she'd personally given me one special rule. "You can do whatever you want." Unfortunately, the new operations director didn't know that. So, she smashed my computer and ordered me to pay a 20,000-dollar fine in front of the entire office to set an example for everyone else. I didn't say anything. Instead, I made a phone call, packed up my things, and left the company. Early the next morning, the boss personally drove to my house herself. She'd come to take me back to work because the number I'd called the day before was the private cell phone number of a rival company's CEO.

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."