Nouvelles Melodramatic Romance & Romans Bias Workplace

The year Lindsay Iverson is outed as a fake heiress, I grant her three wishes that she can use anytime—just so she feels safe. I promise to grant her any request she makes. In the seven years we spend together, she never uses a single one—until a cheerful intern called Elijah Zimmerman comes into her life. She uses her first wish to demand all of the profit from one of my business projects. It is meant to be a gift for him, celebrating his promotion to a permanent position. The second wish is used to get the keys to the home I personally designed for our future together. Instead, she hands them to him. At our engagement party, she uses up her last wish. "I'll marry you, but I want Elijah's name on the marriage certificate," she says. I clutch my wine glass, smiling with my eyes rimmed red. "I'm the CEO of Ashwood Group, but what am I to you?" "I love you, but I'm pregnant with Elijah's baby, so I want both of you to be my husbands," she replies, sounding cold yet resigned. "Stop making a big deal out of this. It's just a piece of paper, after all." She assumes my love for her has no limits, and that I will tolerate anything she does. This time, however, I am tired of it.

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.

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.]

Five days after I saved my girlfriend from an unhinged, violent patient, the wound on my arm tore open and got infected again. I wanted her to drive me to the hospital, but she spared me a glance before refusing, citing the need to avoid her being seen treating family. Left with no choice, I took a cab to the hospital by myself. Dizzy and weak from a burning fever, I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs, injuring my foot in the fall. At that exact moment, my supposedly busy girlfriend, Stella Sloan, was gently supporting her young male intern and passing right by me to cut in line for emergency treatment. A nearby nurse quickly tried to smooth things over for her. “Dr. Sloan takes great care of all the new hires. Don’t worry, she’ll come and get you as soon as she’s done.” A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. She had registered me as a patient thirty-three times, yet my own girlfriend had never once picked up my medical chart. “Forget it. Don’t bother.” I stared up at the blinding glare of the fluorescent lights above. My ticket home was booked for two days from now, and my resignation letter had been approved. Stella, you and I are officially over.

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.

The annual company party featured a couples' trivia contest. The grand prize was a weekend spa getaway for two. Michael looked at me but he turned and grabbed my best friend Gina’s hand. "Gina and I have better chemistry," he said. "We have a better shot at winning." The host asked the final question, "What is your partner’s biggest fear?" Michael didn’t hesitate. "The dark. She’s been terrified of the dark since childhood." He was answering for Gina. My biggest fear was heights. He had never once gotten it right. They won. The host teased, "With chemistry like that, are you sure you two aren't a couple?" Gina laughed and leaned playfully against his shoulder. "Oh, stop. We just wanted the prize." Michael didn't pull away. After the party, he handed the voucher to me. "Let’s go together." Before I could even answer, he added, "We should bring Gina, too. Her skin is sensitive. She can test the spa waters for us first." It was always like this. Every vacation, she stayed in the room first. Every restaurant, she tried the food first. Every new place we went, she had to experience it first. And with every "test," their connection only grew deeper. I slipped the voucher back into his hand. "You two go," I said. "No need to test it for me anymore.”

I completed my internship when someone caught me kissing my boyfriend and the director, James Porter, in the parking garage. A photo appeared in the company group chat soon after. To protect my chance at becoming a permanent employee, he denied everything in front of the entire office. "The woman in the photo isn't her. She's my childhood friend." His childhood friend stepped forward and took responsibility for the office‑romance rumor. She had one condition. James Porter had to complete 100 couple challenges with her. Once they finished all of them, she would clear our names and explain the truth. James held me in his arms and comforted me. "Baby, it's only 100 things. Once we're done, I'll make our relationship public." They reached the ninety‑ninth challenge when they lost the challenge book and had to start again. During the second round, they accidentally skipped one. During the third round, they decided to film the challenges. Before long, they became a couple‑content sensation. Millions of followers obsessed over them. Meanwhile, I went from intern to permanent employee. I waited from the age of twenty‑three until I turned twenty‑eight. Every time I reached my breaking point, James gave me the same answer. "Just a few more. Hang in there." On our fifth anniversary, I carried a cake to find him. Halfway there, my period cramps hit so hard that I collapsed into muddy water as a torrential downpour crashed around me. His car was parked in front of me. I felt too much pain to stand, and for once, I believed he would help me. He glanced at me, walked past me, and pulled his rain‑soaked childhood friend into his arms. She held up her phone with a grin. "Today's challenge is a boyfriend exclusively devoted to me for 24 hours. "If you touch her, we'll have to start again from challenge number one." James stayed silent for 2 seconds. Then he opened the car door for her. Just before the door closed, a message from him appeared on my phone. [Baby, it's the last day. Just hang in there a little longer.] That night, his childhood friend posted the hundredth and final couple challenge. In the video, she stood in a wedding dress and held out her hand to James. [Challenge 100: Marry the man who completed the first ninety‑nine challenges with me.] James did not deny it. He replied with a heart. I looked down at the cake, now ruined and soaking in muddy water, and I laughed. Five years. He still was not tired of playing this game. I was done waiting.

On my wedding day, the car drops me off at the banquet hall's back service entrance. I'm the groom, yet they send me through the trash passage. Sabina York opens my door and orders me around like she always does. "You'll go in through the back, and I'll take Caleb through the front. We can't let our coworkers see us together." Before I can even respond, she drives away with Caleb Yeoman. I'm left standing alone in the filthy water. It's the 99th time she abandons me to keep people from talking. For eight years, we've kept our relationship under wraps. She says dating a coworker will hurt my reputation, so she uses her best friend Caleb as a cover for us at every turn. During company trips, Caleb gets the passenger seat beside her. Instead, I spend ten hours on a bus just to catch up with them on the way home. When our project succeeds, she promotes Caleb, who is my teammate. She then makes me, the most senior person on the team, report to him. Even our wedding invitation has Caleb's name on it. After eight years together, I still have no place in her life that she's willing to acknowledge. I keep telling myself she does all of this for my sake. I race through the trash passage, covered in filth, and make it inside with five minutes to spare. But Sabina is already walking down the aisle with Caleb, taking the place that should be mine. They exchange their vows at the same time, and the room erupts in cheers. "My favorite couple is finally married!" In that very moment, everything becomes clear. After eight years, I finally realize I'm the only person she ever wants to keep her distance from. So I give her exactly what she wants and remove myself from this blatant display of favoritism for good. The music starts up again, and the officiant announces the ring exchange. Sabina spots me and awkwardly turns toward me, holding out the ring. I just smile and pull my hand away when she secretly reaches for it. "You don't have to hide anymore. Go ahead and get married."

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 ran into my ex-husband again, he had just been appointed the new hospital director. In the past, manipulated by my so-called best friend, he misunderstood my sincerity again and again. Because of that woman, he eventually walked out of our marriage. As the vice director, I managed to keep things strictly professional around him, right up until the end of the workday. That evening, the head nurse brought some news. "Dr. Holloway, the Municipal Medical Association is hosting a networking banquet tonight. Leaders from all the major hospitals will be attending." The nurses immediately began discussing whether they could go. Just as I was about to agree, he appeared in the doorway without warning. "Dr. Holloway, you can't go. You're staying tonight to handle the hospital restructuring plan." In full view of everyone, he summoned me into the director's office. Seated behind his desk, he said with an icy gaze, "Everyone else can go. You must stay. If I find out you show up at that banquet tonight, be prepared to deal with the consequences."

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.

In my third month of employment, I realized that my colleagues were calling me an old geezer behind my back. This nickname came from Wanda Stewart’s arrogant and ambitious assistant. I had hit the age of 32, but was still clinging onto the last vestiges of hope of marriage after eight long years of our relationship. I asked Wanda, “Do you know that your subordinates call me an old geezer?” She said without batting an eyelid, “That’s just the way Samuel is. He’s just a straight-talker and he’s just kidding. You’re already 32, are you seriously fussing about this?” She then chuckled, “You two are really alike.” My heart turned cold. Turns out that eight years of my youth were nothing but a joke to her. I turned to leave, resigning from my post and blocking her. Yet, the woman who was always so calm and cool started panicking. “Jansen Graham, please come back to me.”

Every year, Callum Walker gave me exactly five hours of his personal time. A meal with me cost forty minutes. A trip to visit my parents together cost two hours. Even sex was on the clock, starting the second he kissed me. Callum was the youngest senior partner at an elite white-shoe law firm, and his private consulting rate was 8,000 dollars an hour. I'd always assumed he was simply meticulous about his time. Then, at the firm's annual gala, Mia Garfield, the young lawyer he'd mentored himself, asked with a laugh, "Callum, how much time does your wife have left this year?" Callum glanced at his phone. "Seventeen minutes." Everyone in the room laughed. Mia tilted her head up at him. "What about me?" Callum ruffled her hair. "You're not on the clock. Dress shopping, late-night snacks, midnight movies... When have I ever kept time with you?" I swallowed the laughter filling the room and held on to those last seventeen minutes. A month later, my father, Russell Merriott, died suddenly of a heart attack. I used my final seventeen minutes to ask Callum to come with me to sign Dad's cremation authorization form. But I broke down afterward, clutched his sleeve, and kept him ten minutes longer. He didn't push me away. I thought that in the face of my father's death, he had finally made an exception for me. The next day, his secretary, Leon Barrymore, sent me a bill for 4,000 dollars. That same day, I pawned my wedding ring for 5,000 dollars. Four thousand went to settling the bill. The remaining thousand covered the first tuition installment at a language school abroad. This time, I wasn't going to waste any more of his time. Or any more of mine.

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.

It's the company's eighth-anniversary celebration. From the corner of the parking lot, I catch sight of my close friend, Leroy Parks, stepping out of the passenger seat of my girlfriend's car. My girlfriend, Kristen Fox, then leans over and helps him fix his tie. He grins lightly at her. I just tighten my grip on the cashmere shawl that I had bought for my future mother-in-law, Cindy Holt, and turn to leave. From the doorway leading backstage, I hear her voice saying, "The wedding rehearsal is all set. Since everyone is also here today, let's just go public with your relationship with Leroy." Kristen speaks in a low, suppressed voice. "Mom! Keep your voice down!" However, Cindy raises her voice and speaks even louder than before. "It's even better if Joshua hears it! He's just a gigolo! Leroy's a hundred times better than him!" "Hey, Joshua." I hear my colleague, Mitchell Davis, calling out to me from behind. I turn back and see my resignation letter being displayed on his phone screen. He locks the screen and turns to me with a smile. "Everyone in the company already knows about Kris and Roy. We just kept it to ourselves because we didn't want you to be upset about it. But surely you've already felt it for a while, haven't you? "You should know that Roy is more suitable for Kris than you'll ever be. You're a smart guy. It's better for everyone if you'd just let go of her and stop making things awkward for everyone." I don't say a word. The cashmere shawl in my hands falls to the ground. Kristen had cheated on me with my best friend since the third year of her company's inception. And everyone had already decided that Leroy was a better match for her than me… But I was the last one to know about it.

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?”

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."

The mother of Mr. Burr, the hospital director, was critically ill and needed emergency surgery. My wife, wanting to help her beloved crush, Cedric Grey, take the spotlight, deliberately kept the surgery time from me. By the time I finally arrived—late, Mr. Burr stopped me from entering the operating room and scolded me harshly for being unprofessional and unethical. Once I realized what my wife was doing, I handed the lead surgeon position over to her beloved crush. “Well, since you're so eager to shine,” I said coldly, “you’d better not screw it up.” The nurses tried to talk me out of it. They said I was being impulsive, that this was a rare chance to prove myself. However, none of them knew that I was the only doctor in the entire country capable of performing this rare and complex heart valve surgery. Even if Cedric managed to buy time with some miracle drug and made it look like the patient was improving, without my diagnosis and surgical skills, the operation was doomed to fail. And when that happens, he’d be held responsible. As for my wife, her blind favoritism would come back to haunt her.

Derek Bouchard and I kept our relationship secret for eight years. Over the long holiday weekend, I finally persuaded him to take me to a concert. When the arena's kiss cam randomly picked us out of the crowd, I turned to him with a delighted smile. He immediately whipped his head away, dodging the camera. My smile froze. That night, the clip went viral. Everyone was speculating that I was his kept mistress. One of the most-liked comments read: "I know them. He's her boss. They've been dating secretly for years. Poor thing, she's the one doing all the dirty work, staying at the office until the early hours. After eight years, she's still just a team lead. "They even shipped her off to some remote overseas office for three years. Said it was to avoid favoritism, but really his first love had come back and he wanted her out of the way." I stopped breathing. I couldn't believe my eyes. My fingers trembled as I scrolled. "Then why didn't he date his first love?" someone asked. "She's against marriage. He wants a family and an heir." Another commenter added, "It gets worse. He rejected countless proposals she worked on, then passed them all to his first love. That woman built a glittering career at another company using her work." A chill ran through me. So that was why Derek kept assigning me inexplicable tasks. Why even the proposals I'd revised to perfection were rejected. I'd been building someone else's career all along. I scrolled again, but the entire video had vanished. I knew whose doing that was. I drew a long breath and called Derek. "Aren't you going to explain any of this?"

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!