Mistress Workplace Short Stories & Novels

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 mom stole my dad's name and his status as the top-ranked student in the state, then gave them to her childhood sweetheart. From then on, the two thieves soared to the top. One was admitted to Ashford University and went on to become a computer science professor at one of the country's top universities. The other attended Westbridge University and became a nationally recognized expert in education. … Meanwhile, my dad was left without a legal identity, spending his entire life scraping by through odd jobs and backbreaking labor. Years later, I inherited his talent and founded a leading AI technology company, making a name for myself in the industry. Potential partners were constantly coming to me with offers. One company, in particular, approached me several times seeking a partnership. The contract they offered was tempting, with generous terms and impeccable credentials. I casually flipped through their background information. But when I reached the page introducing the founder, my hand stopped. After a long silence, I finally said slowly, “Forget it. I won’t work with you.”

I finish my studies and return to the company, only to find my wife, Sophia Cooper, holding a wedding ceremony with her assistant, Robert Miller. Sophia asks me to give them a wedding gift. "It's our big day, so don't be a cheapskate. Give us at least ten grand." I stand rooted to the spot. If memory serves, it's actually our fifth wedding anniversary today. "Is this some kind of joke? Cut it out—" I force myself to come up with an excuse for them. Robert cuts me off contemptuously. "Ms. Cooper promised me that if I could provide the company with a new miracle drug, she'd put on a wedding gown and marry me. Now, place your wedding gift on the left, and help yourself to the divorce agreement on the right!" "By the way," Sophia calls after me. "Be sure to process your resignation, too. I'm replacing my husband, so it's only natural to replace the Deputy CEO as well." I stare long and hard at the miracle drug, turn around, and call a friend at the patent office. "Can the exact same drug be patented twice?"

At our company's annual team-building event, my team lost a game, and the group made my girlfriend pick someone to play a card-passing game with. It was the kind where you pass a piece of paper from mouth to mouth without using your hands. I stood up, trying not to look too eager. I thought this was finally my chance to make our secret relationship public. Instead, my girlfriend picked the new hire before I could even step forward. A gust of wind knocked the paper loose, and their lips met right there in front of everyone. The room erupted. "Look at Ms. Chase go. Ms. Untouchable really does have a thing for pretty young things." "I'll take a bite of that free relationship content, thank you very much." I sat there stunned until a coworker pushed a drink into my hand. "What are you spacing out for? Go toast Ms. Chase and her new boy toy." I stared at my girlfriend, unable to believe what I'd just seen. She turned away to shield her new hire from another round of shots, ignoring me completely again. With tears in my eyes, I downed the drink in one go. Then I accepted a job offer from our biggest competitor.

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.