Melodramatic Short Stories & Mistress Workplace Novels

After five years in a secret relationship with my boss, Eric handed my hard work to his childhood sweetheart, Shelly. Suddenly, they were the perfect power couple. And me? Just the girl he kept hidden. He never even looked my way. So why was I still holding on? One phone call later, I was done. Time to leave—and see what else was out there.

At a certain class reunion, the former class president brought out the time capsules everyone had written years ago and read them aloud one by one. When it was Harper Langley’s turn, he opened her note and read, [Marry Jayden as soon as possible.] The room immediately broke into teasing laughter. “You two must already be married. Why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” Before Harper could respond, the man sitting beside her spoke up with a smile. “She’s my boss now. She’s been busy building her company, so she hasn’t had time to get married. If any of you keep pressuring her to settle down and mess with my paycheck, you’re going to have a problem with me.” The speaker was Eugene Rowe. Back in school, he had been Harper’s obsessive pursuer, and she had deeply disliked him for it. He had since become her assistant. Harper did not deny anything. She simply took my hand and smiled, as gently as she always had. I pulled my hand away and smiled at everyone. “I’m getting married at the beginning of next month. You’re all invited.” Eugene’s face turned deathly pale. He stared at Harper in disbelief. She frowned and pulled out her phone. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message. She texted: You didn’t have to lie to our classmates just to avoid embarrassment. My company is at a critical stage right now, so marriage can wait. I locked my phone without replying. I had not lied. I really was getting married at the beginning of next month. Harper was just not the bride.

Seven years ago, I was the city's youngest chief medical examiner, on the verge of solving the Scarlet Murders and bringing the killer to justice once and for all. But the night before I could expose the truth, my fiancé's first love, Isabelle Sinclair, joins forces with the real murderer and has me killed in cold blood. Using my own scalpel, Isabelle fakes all signs of a guilt-ridden suicide on my body and stages the crime scene to make it look as though I've attacked her before fleeing. She plants just enough fabricated evidence to make her story seem airtight, then waits for the police to arrive. When Sebastian Jacobson showed up, he found Isabelle covered in blood, sobbed as she claimed I've tried to kill her and destroy the evidence before escaping. The scene is meticulously arranged to support her story, right down to the blood trail leading to the exit, as if I've fled in a desperate panic. It looks like an open-and-shut case, so no one bothers to question her account or investigate further. Everyone believes Isabelle. Sebastian despises me for what he thinks I've done. He publicly denounces me as a disgrace to forensic science and the greatest shame of his life. The forensic center erases my name from its records, my own parents publish a newspaper announcement disowning me, and my alma mater revokes the honorary academic title it has awarded me. Even the mentor I've spent years admiring refuses to acknowledge that he's ever taught me. My case becomes a textbook example of professional misconduct, and my former colleagues curse my name for betraying the very principles of truth and justice I've sworn to uphold. Overnight, I go from being the brightest rising star in forensic science to a disgraced fraud in the eyes of the entire law enforcement community. Then, seven years later, an unidentified skeleton arrives in the autopsy room. As the medical examiners begin examining the remains, they uncover evidence that's been buried for seven years—evidence that could finally expose the truth behind a murder everyone thinks they understand. The skeleton is mine. And after seven years of lies, the truth about my death is finally about to come to light.

Lately, Chloe Dunham has been posting photos on social media of late-night meals sent by an anonymous admirer. She was the only single one in our trio of best friends, so I was always the first to like her posts. But whenever I saw the hand-drawn doodles on the meal boxes, I couldn't shake the feeling that they looked exactly like the work of my boyfriend, Jacob Aniston. Chloe once flicked me on the forehead and teased me. "You jealous little thing. Don't go making up stories. The three of us have been friends since we were kids. If Jacob and I were ever going to fall for each other, we'd have gotten together ages ago." I rubbed my forehead and laughed, then let the matter go. That was until the station assigned Jacob and me to cover a typhoon from the front lines, and Chloe insisted on coming along to deliver supplies. Then the levee breached. The three of us ended up stranded atop a swaying communications tower as the floodwaters rose around us. When the water reached our waists, Jacob raised his microphone and faced the camera. He told viewers across the country that this might be his last broadcast. Then he reached out, pulled Chloe in front of the camera, and wrapped the only raincoat around her. "If I have to die, I have no regrets as long as I'm with you. Everyone, you don't need to wait for the next report. Right now, I want to protect the person I care about most." The livestream flooded with messages of congratulations as they held each other and cried. Meanwhile, I huddled in the corner, my lips purple from the cold. I didn't even have the strength to say another word. After the water level finally dropped and the rescue team pulled us to safety, I shook the mud from my clothes and opened the back door of the rescue vehicle. "Don't overthink it. Chloe's physically weaker than you. I was just afraid she'd get hurt," Jacob said.

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.

My name and the name of my girlfriend's assistant, who was in a lower grade than us, were homophonic. His last name was Reid, whereas mine was Reed. Shawn Reid mixed up our names yet again at the joint bachelor-bachelorette party the office was throwing for Anne Nash and me. Everyone was cheering and jeering at us as the banner celebrating the end of Anne's and my singlehood was unfurled. Someone read it aloud. “Congratulations to Anne and Shawn. Wishing you eternal happiness together!” The private room was plunged into silence. Shawn spoke cautiously. “Sorry, Sean. I accidentally got it wrong again.” I said nothing and turned to look at Anne. She didn’t even bat an eyelash and instead comforted Shawn. “It’s no big deal. He won’t mind.” Then, she walked over to stand in front of Sean while she confronted me. Just like every other time, she shielded Shawn behind her, looking at me with the same warning gaze. “Sean, it’s only a banner. “Shawny didn’t do it on purpose. “After all, everyone knows today it’s about us. Don’t sweat the small stuff, alright?”

My fiancee, Lucinda Walker, always says that she hates waiting more than anything else. If the elevator takes more than 30 seconds, she takes the stairs. If there are more than three people in line, she turns around and leaves. So, every time I want to take her to the dessert shop with an hour-long wait, she frowns. "The greatest waste of time is waiting." Tonight, the company is having a team dinner, and I have arrived at the hotel lobby early to wait for her. From a distance, I see her walk out of the banquet hall. Her assistant, Jace Stetson, is by her side. Jace says he wants to try the bar's signature cocktail, but more than a dozen people are lined up. I thought Lucinda would suggest going somewhere else, just as she always does with me, and leave. However, she glances at the line, takes off her coat, and drapes it over his arm. Then, she says, "Sit down somewhere. I'll wait." Jace laughs and says that isn't necessary, but Lucinda has already taken her place at the back of the line. I sit on the sofa in the lobby and watch her quietly wait for 20 minutes. When she finally returns to him with the drinks, she even leans closer to ask if he wants ice. Then, my phone vibrates. I get a message from her. "The dinner is over. I'm heading straight home. Don't wait for me." I look up. Nearby, Lucinda is smiling at Jace. I type "Okay." But then, I delete it. Instead, I send "I won't wait." This time, I really mean it.

The day the company is exposed for accounting fraud, my wife, Megan Grant, immediately holds a press conference to protect Liam Johnson. She shifts all the blame onto me, publicly declaring that I will be punished by the law. Liam puts on an act of heartbreak, saying, "Flynn, I warned you a long time ago that you can't just take the company's money. Why didn't you listen?" My coworkers stare at me in disbelief, expecting me to defend myself. Instead, I smile, take responsibility for everything, and resign. Megan thinks I've finally come to my senses and quietly promises me, "Once this blows over, I'll find a way to get your position back. I'll also tell everyone about our marriage. Consider it my way of making it up to you." However, there's one thing she doesn't know. In order to protect the company's interests, the chairman ordered me to install monitoring software on all the company's computers on the day we opened our doors. Once he retrieves those system logs, their lies will fall apart! When the truth comes to light, they won't just be facing massive financial fines; they'll be facing prison time too!

At our college reunion, I returned from running an errand for my boyfriend and found my best friend sitting in my place. My wineglass and plate had been cleared away and replaced with a fresh set. There was no trace that I had ever been there. When I came back, Serena Blake started to rise, but Adrian Bennett pressed her back into the chair. "She doesn't understand our casework anyway. She'd only sit here and smile along." No one else dared respond. Everyone knew my family had collapsed financially while I was in college, forcing me to leave school for a semester. Back then, Adrian and Serena were the law school's celebrated dream team, winning every difficult mock case they touched. After graduation, they rose together at an elite corporate firm, while I was dismissed as the little assistant who only got hired because I was Adrian's girlfriend. I stood there stupidly, unsure what to do. Adrian took the cigarettes I had bought for him and casually gave me another order. "Serena wants a milkshake. Go get her one." He did not even look at me before turning back to their conversation. As they talked and laughed without me, something inside me finally went quiet. I no longer wanted to chase the person I had spent years trying to catch.

I'm down with a 104-degree fever, so I want to apply for sick leave. But my wife, Nadine Sullivan's assistant, Terrence Lowell, denies my leave and forces me to take on an overtime shift. "Ms. Sullivan has gone on a trip to a tropical island with her 18th lover. So, I'm the one calling the shots at the company for the time being. "You're not allowed to leave the company without my permission." Terrence makes my life difficult on purpose just so he can kiss up to Nadine. That's how he becomes her 19th lover. Unwilling to accept this fact, I call Nadine on the spot. But she says to me coldly, "Terrence's word is good as mine. It's just an overtime shift; what else can happen to you? You're so dramatic, Barry." Disappointment surges into my heart at that moment. "Let's get a divorce." Nadine just smiles mockingly. "Do you even have the guts to divorce me, Barry Thorpe? All you do is cause trouble nowadays! Don't forget that you still need me to pay for your mom's hospital bills every month!" As soon as the call is over, Terrence starts a poll in the company's group chat. "Barry has brought up divorce again. Do you think he'll go through with it or no?" Nadine quickly votes "no". But what she doesn't know is that I've already made all preparations to leave her for real.

For the first time ever since we got together, my boyfriend, Clarence Xenos, got angry with me because an eight-million-dollar company deal was ruined. In front of everyone, he belittled me and called me worthless. When we got home that night, he said in a cold corporate tone, “Work is work. There’s no ‘us’ in the office. You messed up, and that’s that.” An intern in our office, Naomi Smyth, texted me an apology. [Lucia, I’m so sorry. This was totally on me. But don’t worry, Clay got me a cupcake to cheer me up. It was actually pretty good. Do you want me to order one for you, too?] The next morning, Clarence habitually threw the breakfast I had prepared into the trash can. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? I don’t eat breakfast.” At work, my colleague, Zoey Thorpe, leaned in with a sly look and gossiped to me. “That new intern is so bold. She went up and talked to Mr. Xenos, and even bought him coffee and a sandwich. He not only ate them but also commented that they were delicious.” Whatever. I was beyond caring at that point. The person on my phone was still relentlessly trying to get me to be with him. [Look, if it doesn’t work out with him, I’m fine being the other guy. Just give me a chance, alright?] I pursed my lips and typed back. [There’s no need to be the other guy. You can just be my boyfriend.]

Phoebe Marsh had carelessly submitted the wrong quotation, causing the company to suffer a massive loss and leaving us facing enormous compensation claims. To win the contract back, I attended what was basically a trap disguised as a dinner to apologize on the company's behalf. I was forced to drink until my stomach bled, enduring humiliation after humiliation just to smooth everything over. After the matter was settled, Phoebe comforted me and promised that one day, she would give me a grand wedding. But the day before our wedding, she showed up in a wedding gown and threw herself into Julian Stratford's arms instead. When I demanded an explanation, she brushed it off casually. "You were just some nobody who clawed his way out of a backwater village. What made you think I'd actually choose you? Besides, Julian is the general manager's son. The difference between you two is night and day. But if you really can't let me go, I guess I wouldn't mind keeping you around." Phoebe actually wanted me to be her lover. That slap ended everything between us. I turned around and agreed to marry the Grey family's heiress—my childhood sweetheart. What I never expected was that our weddings would be held on the same day, in the same hotel. As I stepped through the hotel entrance, Phoebe arrived with a crowd of our former coworkers and blocked my path. "Cassian Frost, you actually came to crash my wedding? Let me make this clear—I won't let anyone ruin my perfect wedding with Julian. Since you insist on embarrassing yourself, you'd better apologize to Julian and beg for his forgiveness." The crowd immediately burst into jeers and cheers. Phoebe kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to the ground. She even stripped off my clothes to humiliate me in public. Only when Evelyne Grey arrived did Phoebe instantly switch to a flattering smile. "Ms. Grey, my ex-boyfriend completely lost his mind. He actually claimed to be your husband. But don't worry, I already dealt with him. About that Upper Hollow contract… Do you think we can sign it now?"

It was the seventh year that I spent with Tristan Zabel. His junior from school, Cassandra White, cried over a breakup for the twelfth time in the middle of the night. He got anxious and put on his jacket to leave. “Jimelle, Cass’ supervisor is giving her a hard time, and she just got played by some douchebag. If I don’t go, she’s going to spiral, and something bad could happen to her.” In the past, I would turn hysterical, call her a fake, and block the door to keep him from leaving. But this time, I endured the cramps from my acute gastritis and calmly nodded. “Poor Cass. You should go be with her. Stay a few days if you need to.” Just then, Cassandra’s tearful voice came through his phone. “Tristan, I’m so scared! When are you coming?” He was stunned when he noticed the cold sweat on my forehead. “You look pale. I can stay tonight if you’re not feeling well—” “It’s fine. I’ll take some medicine and sleep it off.” I cut him off, pressed the car keys into his hand and said, “Go. Don’t keep her waiting.” He had no idea I was keeping score. It was strike twelve, and he had just run out of chances. Tomorrow, I would get on a plane and fly to the overseas headquarters with a visa in hand. By the time he realized I was gone, it would be too late for him to find me again.

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.