เรื่องสั้นแนว Feel-Good Story Romance และนิยาย Bias ในฉาก Workplace

My five years of marriage to Elliot Kline turned out to be a cruel joke. "For tomorrow's monthly report meeting, I'd like Yvette to present your branding plan," Elliot said, not looking up from his desk. I put down the files I was organizing, certain I had misheard. "What?" "Yvette just joined the company. She needs a chance to prove herself. Your plan is perfect for that." He lifted his head, his tone brooking no argument. "But that's my entry for the Veriania Creative Competition," I protested. "You win awards every year. What's the harm in letting her have it this time?" He shrugged, adding, "We need to nurture new talent." I stared at the man with whom I had shared a bed for five years. His face suddenly felt so unfamiliar to me. "Do you know how many sleepless nights I poured into that plan? And you're giving it to a new intern?" "Don't be so petty. It's just a plan. My decision is made." My fists clenched, anger surging through me.

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.

During a round of truth or dare, my boss, Victoria Hale, leaned in and kissed my husband, Ethan Graves. As just another junior employee, I didn’t even have the chance to call her out in front of everyone. Instead, I slipped away to the restroom and asked Ethan for a divorce. He brushed it off as if I were only sulking. "Don’t take it so seriously. She’s just had too much to drink. In the corporate world, you have to entertain, play along for the sake of the project." However, in the very next round, when Victoria was dared to kiss someone else, Ethan flipped the table in front of everyone. "Touch her, and see what happens."

I was the company's top sales performer, but I never clocked in or out, and I rarely showed my face at the office. Two-thirds of the employees had never even met me. Yet somehow, I single-handedly dominated the sales numbers, outperforming everyone else and propelling us to the number one spot in the industry. Then came the day they handed out year-end bonuses. Jeffrey Young, the new sales director, fired me on the spot, claiming it was bad luck that I stepped into the building with my left foot first. When I demanded to know what gave him the right, he sneered at me with pure contempt. "Because I'm going to be the future owner of this company! You just got lucky landing a few big clients, and that was all thanks to the company's existing customer base anyway!" He continued, "Let me tell you something... Kieran Campbell, whoever the company gives resources to, becomes the top seller!" I could not help but laugh. All they saw was that I never clocked in, but they never saw me out there day and night, running around to maintain those client relationships. The truth was, in this industry, clients were loyal to me personally, not to the company's brand. I pulled out my phone and called my wife, Melanie Gardner. "When did you get yourself another husband behind my back?"

As I head to see my boyfriend, Howard Schultz, who is working late, I get into a car accident. I call him dozens of times for help, but he doesn't answer a single one. Staring at his brightly lit office building not far away, I sink into despair. When I wake up in the hospital, I see a post from his subordinate. It's a picture showing the reflection of the two of them in the glass door, standing far closer than they should, with the caption, "What do I do when my boss is scolding me late at night?" Unwilling to believe it, I call him again. This time, he finally answers. My voice trembles. "Howard, I got into a car accident…" "Celine, I'm still working. I'll send my assistant to take care of it, okay? Be good. I'll see you after I come back from my business trip." I try to say more, but his angry shout suddenly cuts through the line. "Crystal Jennings! You're only allowed to bring one suitcase for this trip. Why do you have three? Do you think we're going on vacation?" Crystal Jennings—the new intern Howard just hired. I stare at the disconnected call, tears drying on my cheeks. I then call my parents instead. "I agree to the engagement you arranged."

Due to my outstanding work performance, my boss grants me special permission to have flexible working hours. I am out until very late last night meeting a client, and I have only been asleep for a while when a call from my colleague wakes me up. "It's already 9:30 am! Why are you late again today?" I explain to her patiently that I worked overtime last night to finalize things with a client and have them sign the contract, so I won't be going into the office in the morning. My colleague snickers. "You'd better not think that you can skip work whenever you like just because you've achieved top sales in our department. "Today is our boss' son, Mr. Hammond's first day in the office. He might just tell you to pack your things and leave if you were to upset him in any way!" Despite the splitting headache I'm having, I try to recall it in my head. Alex Hammond, the man she's just mentioned, sounds very much like that fiance of mine, who desperately wants to tie the knot with me.

When my CEO wife, Nina Wynn, learned I voluntarily handed a multimillion-dollar project to her favorite assistant, Zach Channing, she thought her three-month cold treatment finally worked. Beaming, she suddenly suggested we fly to Ivesland for our long-delayed honeymoon. When Zach found out, he became jealous and threatened to quit. Panicked, she spent three days and nights comforting him, then canceled our honeymoon again with the excuse of a business trip, giving him my ticket instead. Later, she casually explained to me, "Romance is trivial. Work comes first. As the boss, I have to prioritize. You’re my husband; you should understand." I looked at Zach’s latest social post, which was a photo of the two of them leaning intimately with their hands forming a heart, and said nothing. I only nod. Thinking I’d become more thoughtful and obedient, she was pleased. She even promised to make it up to me with a more romantic honeymoon when they got back home. However, unbeknownst to her, I’d already resigned. The divorce papers were already signed, and there was no future for us ever again.

At the company's year-end awards ceremony, just as it is supposed to be my turn to go on stage and officially announce the relationship between my wife and me, my wife's first love suddenly proposes to her in front of everyone. Angela Reed does not refuse. Instead, she laughs brightly and promotes Samuel Hayden to the new department manager. Employees throughout the entire company cheer loudly for their romance. Seeing that I have no reaction, someone beside me cannot help but ask, "Ronald, you've worked for Ms. Reed for nine years. How can you show no response at all?" I smile as I walk onto the stage, take off my wedding ring, and toss it to Samuel. "How can you propose without preparing a ring? Here—it's yours."

After landing a major project for the company, I receive a ring from my girlfriend, Kiera Ripley. I happily share a picture of it on my socials, thinking she was finally going to announce our engagement. But Kiera's newly hired assistant, Trevor Horton, suddenly slaps me hard and overturns my entire work desk. "You're a director, for God's sake! Don't you feel the least bit ashamed, stealing the present my wife gave me?" Trevor snaps. Not only does Kiera not retort to Trevor's words, but she even says I am not fit for my position as director of the tech department. She then announces to all the staff that Trevor will be taking over the project I just secured for the company. Only then do I realize that the person Kiera wants to publicly announce as her boyfriend isn't me, but Trevor instead. All the staff immediately raise their phones to record me, enjoying the spectacle that is my misfortune. But instead of getting angry, I shove my nametag into Trevor's hands and say, "Since Mr. Horton will be taking over the project, you can take over my position as director as well. I wish you two a long and happy life together!"

The day I finally secured an investment worth over 20 million dollars, I walked into the office and immediately caught sight of that calculating assistant wearing a smug look as she spread gossip around. According to her, my husband, the CEO, was planning to strip me of my position and exile me to some forgotten branch in Northreach. Contract in hand, I headed straight for the CEO's office. I stood behind my husband and rubbed his temples while joking casually, "You won't believe what I just heard. Apparently, you're sending me off to a branch office. If only they knew we've been married in secret for seven years and are about to make it public." He didn't look surprised at all. He gently pushed my hand away and smiled. "It's not a rumor. Andrea messed up the last project, and the board is breathing down my neck. They want someone sent to Northreach, and they picked her. That place is brutal. She wouldn't survive it. She's not like you. She doesn't have the luxury of failure. If she goes there, her career is finished. She was my junior back in school. I can't let her life fall apart." He paused, then added softly, "Once you come back, I'll announce our marriage. And I'll make sure you get what you've always wanted. A child." I smiled, but it held no warmth. I turned around and walked out without another word. Before I reached the elevator, I made a call to his biggest competitor. "Looking for a vice president? I'm bringing 20 million dollars of funding with me. I only ask for one thing: Don't send me to Northreach."

For ten years, I've served as the lover supporting Catherine Sanders from the shadows. With my help, she's able to save her company from the brink of bankruptcy and eventually gets it listed. On the day before we're about to ring the bell, just as I'm about to propose to Catherine, she introduces her childhood sweetheart, Benedict Shaw. Apparently, he is to take over my position in her life. She thanks me for my contributions throughout the decade, but her company is about to embark on a new journey. That means I'm no longer suitable to stay by her side. As I watch the woman I spent the last ten years loving and sacrificing everything for using a bank card to dismiss me, I feel as though my heart has plunged into the icy abyss. "I spent ten years devoting everything I have to you. In the end, it's nothing but a huge mistake." But Catherine remains blind to the truth. Once I quit my job, her company will cease to exist, just like my love for her.

On the day before the Christmas holidays start, my wife, Irene Owens, intends to promote me and give me a raise in order to celebrate my feat of closing a hundred-million-dollar deal. But her assistant, Cody Harrington, purposefully feeds her some cake. Irene, who's known to be a germaphobe, doesn't show any trace of disgust as she subconsciously accepts the spoon, which is tainted with Cody's saliva, into her mouth. The employees begin cheering for them on the spot. Some ask if they are about to get married. Not only does Irene not refute those questions, but she also promotes Cody to a department manager on the spot. When a colleague next to me realizes how silent I've been, he nudges me in the side. "Hey Seb, you're the veteran employee who's stuck by Ms. Owens' side for so long. Why aren't you reacting to the news?" I merely sneer as I toss my share transfer agreement to Cody. "A promotion isn't enough, is it? You can have these shares as your wedding gift."

On the day we succeed in securing a project worth a billion dollars, my girlfriend, the CEO, Vanessa Oswald, throws a celebration party. Amid the festivities, I hear Cameron Ingall, the project manager that Vanessa recently brought in, smugly tell everyone else, "There's no way he can be made the vice president. Ms. Oswald has told me she'll be sending him off to Fennoria to start a new branch there…" Snickering, I turn to Vanessa, who has arrived late, and tell her what I just heard. "Who knows where he heard that rumor from. How can I leave when we just closed the deal? I guess he doesn't know that we've been dating for ten years and are about to announce our engagement this evening!" However, with a remorseful expression, Vanessa takes my hand and says gently, "What he said is true, Shane. Now that the company is growing, it's the perfect time for us to expand into new markets. I know it'll be tough for you in Fennoria, but you're the only one in the company who can take the mantle. "You can let Cam handle the project we just won the bid for. He only recently joined the company and needs an achievement like this to bolster himself. You're already a well-known project manager in the industry anyway. What difference would just one little project make to you?" When she notices my unpleasant expression, she tries to placate me. "Relax. Once you come back, I'll make you a vice president and have a baby with you, okay?" I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. After tossing the ring I was going to use to propose to Vanessa this evening into the fountain, I call up Vanessa's business rival. "I hear you're a charitable woman, Ms. Stewart. Would you be willing to take me in, along with a one-billion-dollar project?"

Out of sheer boredom, I randomly clicked into a livestream titled "Taming an Innocent Housewife." In the stream, a woman in a silk chemise was lazily puttering around the kitchen. When the camera finally showed her face, I was completely stunned—it was me. Not only that, but on the public chat, the top donor was spamming gifts like crazy. [Make her drink that spiked milk.] Soon after, a man groveled in response: [Thanks for the gift, bro. She'll drink it right now. I promise you a hell of a show tonight.] I'd recognize that voice anywhere—it was my husband, Jake, who was supposedly on a business trip overseas. My own husband had turned our home into a hidden-camera setup, treating me like his personal reality show star. And now, he was trying to feed me illegal drugs just to rake in donations. Most people would've broken down or called the cops. But I'm what you'd call the ultimate pro at playing nice—everyone in our circle knows I'm the queen of manipulation. I picked up that glass of milk, looked straight into the camera, and gave a fragile, tantalizing smile. "Since my husband's not home, drinking this milk all alone feels so lonely... I wish some strong, capable guy would come take care of me." The chat exploded. Donations went through the roof. Later that night, Jake burst through the front door, ready to "discipline" me—but froze in his tracks. There I was, sitting in lingerie on the lap of the top donor, grinning at my husband. "Honey, you're back! I helped you hit your goals tonight!"

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.

When I discover yet another tube of lipstick on the front passenger seat of my Porsche for the 99th time, I decide to send a reminder in my company's group chat. "Everyone, please make sure to take all of your personal belongings with you the next time you decide to hitch a ride. Otherwise, it'll be difficult for the owner to remove the stains from the leather seats." The newly-hired intern, Sasha Lane, is quick to shoot me down. "Me hitching a ride has nothing to do with you! A washed-up old hag like you should focus on keeping your man in line! "Are you already triggered by the fact that he decides to pick me up from my home and bring me breakfast?" I'm stunned, to say the least. The truth is, I've already acquired the controlling stake of this company. In order to preserve my fiance, Jack Locke's pride, I let him become the general manager of the company. On top of that, I even lend him my Porsche. At first, I thought he'd be grateful to me for what I did for him. But now, his mistress has the guts to call me out in the group chat. The higher-ups in the group chat often kiss up to Jack, so none of them dares to defend me. After giving it some thought, I get in contact with the company's legal department right away. "Previously, we discussed the matter of dismissing Jack from his duties and holding him accountable for embezzling the company's funds. I want you to get those tasks done as soon as possible. In fact, I want him to get kicked out of the company right now."

During a game of Truth or Dare at a gathering with friends, my girlfriend, Bridget Ellison, loses. Her punishment is to buy coffee for everyone. Half an hour later, she returns carrying more than a dozen bags and starts handing out drinks with a smile. "Francis, you've been pulling all-nighters for two days straight. Here's your iced long black." "Daryl, you like java chip frappe with extra mocha sauce, right?" "And here's yours. Lemon black tea, no ice. You've ordered it hundreds of times." One by one, everyone gets their drink. By the time she reaches me, only an empty bag remains. Everyone at the table freezes. "Where's Aiden's drink?" She pushes her peach frappe toward me and says, "I forgot. He can just share mine." A friend immediately groans and complains, "It's the same every gathering. If you two want to show off how loving you are, can you at least come up with a new routine?" Everyone around us laughs and teases us, but I can't bring myself to even take a sip of the drink. I'm the only one who knows the truth. The display of affection is an act. In reality, she has truly forgotten to buy me a drink. After four years together, Bridget still can't remember that I'm allergic to peaches. I set the peach frappe back on the table. I've spent four years settling for less. Now, it's time for me to leave.

My Black Friday live stream has pulled in over 500 million dollars. But on payday, my wife, Amber Shepherd, transfers every cent of my commission to her personal trainer, Darwin Whitley. Then, she tosses a voucher for an adult toy store at my feet. "There's your bonus. Throw in a little of your own cash, and it should cover a blow-up doll." Darwin slides an arm around Amber's waist and says provocatively, "That brand makes great condoms. Amber and I tried them out last night. You should check out their other stuff." I lose it and shout, "Amber Shepherd! My mom is in end-stage liver failure! That money was supposed to pay for her transplant! What the hell am I going to do with a voucher?" Amber just snuggles closer to Darwin and sneers at me. "A transplant? What are the odds of success? Why throw good money down the drain? Anyway, I've already cashed out the commission. Take the voucher and go play with yourself." Suddenly, a strange calm washes over me. She thinks she just won everything. She has no idea I still hold the exclusive contracts for every single supplier. I open the supplier backend management portal and blast a message to every group chat. "All partnerships are terminated effectively immediately. Contract termination fees will be billed to the signing parties."

After I became pregnant, I gave up the biology research project I had devoted years to. Vanessa Basch, a student I had personally mentored, took over my work. Ever since then, Vanessa began showing up at my home more and more often. At the dinner table, she and my husband would become engrossed in heated discussions about the research data, barely acknowledging my presence. That project had once been my life’s work. Yet there was not even room for me in the conversation. On the day of my prenatal appointment, they stood outside the consultation room debating what to name my baby as if I were not even there. My husband, Scott Clement, glanced back at me and said casually, “Vanessa thinks these two names have more character. Pick whichever one you like.” I said nothing. I just turned away and signed the consent form for an abortion. I thought to myself, ‘Since you’re so perfectly in sync, I want neither this baby nor you anymore.’

At a charity gala in Manhattan, a reporter asked the final question of the night. "Mr. Hayes, whose name will be on the $200 million trust you announced tonight?" The question had barely left her lips before knowing laughter rippled through the crowd. The answer was obvious. It could only be me —— his wife and the heiress to Lockwood Holdings, Chloe Lockwood. I was about to stand and share in his moment. But my husband, Eric Hayes, dropped a bombshell. "It will be named for the most important person in my life: the girl I once shared a bed with." "When I was broke and had nowhere to go, she gave me half her bed. We split the rent on a $350 attic room." "Her warmth was the only reason I could sleep at night." "Without her encouragement, I wouldn't be who I am today." The reporter scrambled to recover. "Mr. Hayes is clearly a man of deep loyalty. What a beautiful story you share with Ms. Lockwood!" "Not Chloe. Another woman." Eric corrected her without hesitation. Every pair of eyes in the room landed on me. Three seconds of silence passed. I leaned toward my assistant Vivian and gave her two quiet orders. "Find her." "Then... strip Eric of everything."