Secretary Short Stories & Novels

For the sake of her secretary, who was supposedly battling cancer, my wife, Sofia Griffin, made a shocking proposal. She would pay ten million for taking his virginity as an attempt to help him raise the funds needed. I had barely opened my mouth to object when she cut me down with a sharp rebuke. She said, "Chris has always been a proud man. Just giving him the money would seem like a handout and hurt his pride. "Can't you try to be compassionate? Do you really have to be jealous over something this small?" I said nothing. I simply smiled and nodded. What she didn't know was that, as an infectious disease specialist, I had already recognized the signs. It wasn't cancer... It was late-stage AIDS.

On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch. We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some. When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise. We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table. Cream was smeared all over her bare body. That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement. From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch. The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear. "Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake." He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away. "Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?" Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake. Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door. Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake. But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant. On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake. I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item. On the other end of the line,his tone was casual. "Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna." The phone slipped from my hand. It turned out my mother wasn't wrong. Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.

Five years ago, Gary Cooper proposed to me 99 times just to marry me. Five years later, to cheer up the secretary he adored, he handed me 99 divorce papers. "Relax. I'm not actually divorcing you. I'm just humoring her. Just pretend like you always do. There's no need to sign." When Gary said it, he was even smiling. As for me, the heartbreak I once felt had long since faded. Now, there was barely a ripple left. I suddenly remembered what day it was and asked quietly, "Will you be home for dinner tonight?" He paused for a moment, then casually shook his head. "Probably not. Today's kind of special. I don't want her to get jealous." I nodded and watched him walk out the door. Then, I picked up a pen and carefully signed my name on the 99th divorce agreement.

After three days of the silent treatment, my fiancé, the Capo of the Moretti family, took his assistant, Bella, on an island vacation. He expected me to be driven mad with jealousy, just as I always had been. But when he returned to Valmont a month later, he found a different woman. He made me give up my corner office. I didn't fight him. I just packed my things and handed it over. To prop Bella up, he discredited me in front of a key partner at the annual family meeting, just so she could shine. I didn't try to prove my innocence. I just accepted the family's reprimand and took my punishment. When Lucas wanted to put Bella in charge of the family's most profitable business, I didn't even get angry. I handed over all the necessary documents without a fight, letting him redistribute power as he saw fit. Bella was smug. "See? What did I tell you?" "A woman like her just needs a firm hand. One trip to the island and she's terrified of losing you. Look how obedient she is now." Lucas bought it, praising Bella for her insight. In a move he'd never made before, he promised me a wedding so grand it would become a legend in the Valmont underworld. But he seemed to have forgotten the dissolution agreement he signed, the one I slipped him right before he got into the car for their vacation. I had already severed all ties with him. I was leaving, but he had no idea.

Alistair Kingsley's secretary, Nerina Larson, calls herself a lucky charm with a dream that she wants to achieve. Apparently, she has used the 500 thousand dollars in the company's account, which is set aside for the employees' year-end bonuses, on lottery tickets. Excitedly, she sends a voice message on the company's group chat. "This lucky charm shall win prizes for everyone! Call me the lucky charm who knows how to manage finances the best!" Alistair claims that Nerina is a very high-spirited and interesting young woman. He even criticizes me for being a stick in the mud. During the final compulsory meeting before the New Year holidays, thousands of employees are waiting for their bonuses so that they can celebrate the holidays happily. But Nerina has the nerve to tear the back-up check I've prepared into pieces in front of everyone. She claims that she has never lost when it comes to luck, so she wants to live stream the process of her scratching the lottery tickets. In my previous life, I called the security guards and had her removed from the stage. Then, I quickly used my authority to send everyone their salaries. That was how I managed to calm everyone down and helped the company avoid going into bankruptcy. With tears streaming down her eyes, Nerina rushed out of the company. "All of my fans call me the lucky queen, and that I'll definitely score the grand prize today! But now, my live streaming gig is all ruined!" On the same night, Nerina dies from hypothermia after drinking herself to a stupor on the streets. With bloodshot eyes, Alistair ran over me with his car repeatedly. "Why can't you just believe her just this once? What if she can strike the jackpot and lead everyone down the path of wealth?" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Nerina carries a few sacks of lottery tickets onto the stage. This time, I'm the first one to applaud for her. I want Alistair to witness how his beloved lucky charm can bring ruination upon the entire company!

I was in the middle of signing a contract when my phone rang. It was my younger sister, Lily Carter. Her voice was cautious, almost hesitant. “Hey… did you get divorced?” The question caught me off guard. I was about to answer when another voice suddenly cut in on her end of the line, a woman I didn’t recognize. She called out Lily’s name sharply. “Did you forget all the rules I set for you? During work hours, your only job is to serve me. Who said you could hide in the restroom?” A crisp slap echoed through the phone. “Now tell me,” the woman demanded. “What are the rules?” A second later, Lily spoke, her voice small and trembling. “First, during work hours, I have to lower myself when I speak to you. “Second, everything I earn has to be handed over to you. “Third, my phone has to stay on at all times. Whatever you say, I have to do it immediately.” The woman let out a mocking laugh. “At least you remember. One more. When we’re outside, you call me Mrs. Shaw, the boss’s wife. Make sure everyone in the company knows exactly who I am.” Hearing my sister’s quiet sobs, something inside me snapped. I immediately switched to a video call and dialed my husband, Daniel Shaw. “So,” I said coldly when he picked up, “you’ve been using your position at my company to keep a ‘wannabe Mrs.’ on the side, haven’t you?”

On the day of my engagement party, my mother and I were sitting in the car waiting for the driver when my fiance's secretary suddenly sent me a video. In it, she had a middle-aged she-wolf by the hair, slapping her across the face again and again. "Selena, you gold-digging trash! Did you really think pretending to be some high-society socialite and getting engaged to Alpha Declan meant your mother could sneak into his house and steal?" Another slap landed. The woman's face was already grotesquely swollen. "Typical backwoods behavior. Always grabbing at things that don't belong to you. As Declan's secretary, I'm handling this filthy thief on his behalf." I slowly lowered my phone. Beside me, my mother was adjusting her necklace in her compact mirror. When she noticed me looking at her, she smiled and patted my hand. "Thorncrown Pack may be an absolute disaster when it comes to business, darling, but Declan is very handsome. Once the alliance is official, your father and I can help straighten things out." Frowning, I replayed the video. The sharp cheekbones. The immaculate chignon. And the mole on her ear. Oh my God. That was my future mother-in-law! I immediately called back. "Vanessa, do you have any idea what a complete idiot you are? That's Declan's mother!" She let out a vicious laugh. "Oh, please. Declan already told me all about you. Some nobody his father forced him to marry. " "He doesn't even care about you, so why would he give a damn about your relatives?"

In the Corvona underworld, there is one unspoken rule. When a Don keeps a new woman by his side for three consecutive months, the Donna must personally remove the signet ring symbolizing her power and place it on the new woman's finger before the entire family. When my husband, Luca, the Don of the Bellini family, announced he would take Mia alone on a three-month business trip, the entire Corvona underworld waited for me to have a meltdown. I had been with Luca Bellini for seven years. I followed him everywhere, refusing to leave his side. I would even wake up in the middle of the night to touch him, needing to know he was there to feel secure. They were all aware of my clinginess and were betting I would never let go. But when Mia extended her hand to me, her voice dripping with saccharine, I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly removed the signet ring engraved with the family crest and slid it onto her ring finger. Luca, lounging in the leather chair at the head of the table, swirled the whiskey in his glass, satisfaction gleaming in his cold blue eyes. "Elara, you've finally learned your place." I lowered my gaze to my bare finger, saying nothing in return. What Luca didn't know was that a month ago, I had recovered all seven years of my lost memories. I wasn't some street orphan at all, but the long-lost Principessa of the Rossi family, the most powerful of the Old World families. In three days, my brother's armed convoy would roll into Corvona to take me home.

I accidentally used the shared bank card linked to my husband, Ryan Newman. Before I could even leave the store, two officers pinned me to the ground and accused me of embezzling company funds. Right then, Ryan’s new secretary, Georgia Hawkins, called me. "Mrs. Newman, I was the one who reported you! Do you have any idea how hard Mr. Newman works for his money? "He works himself to the bone every day. You can’t keep spending so recklessly anymore! Starting today, I’ll be managing all your expenses. Every purchase needs my approval first! "Oh, and your monthly spending limit is now $500. You already spent $499 today, so don’t even think about spending another cent this month." Listening to her smug little lecture, I laughed. Georgia had only been at the company for a month. Just because Ryan treated her politely at work, she’d started acting like she ran his entire life. Little did she know, the company belonged to me. Every dollar in Ryan's bank account came from me, including her paycheck. As for the Mr. Newman she worshiped so much? He was just the man who married into my family. So what gave her the right to manage my money?

On our wedding night, my CEO wife’s assistant barged into the bridal suite with a crowd behind him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and grinned in front of all the guests. “I've gotta thank Shawn for being so generous. Over the past year, Chloe and I tried all 1,000 positions in the Karma Sutra, won a $10,000,000 bonus, and even ended up with a baby. “Don’t feel too bad, Shawn, even if all you got was one dollar. “And of course, I should thank my future in-laws and everyone here for thinking so highly of me. Tonight, I’ll definitely make sure Chloe has the time of her life on our wedding night.” The room fell silent. No one said a word. Even my father-in-law, who always claimed he treated me like his own son, lowered his head and avoided my eyes. Chloe glanced at me and said casually, “He’s young and insecure. He just wants to spend the wedding night with me. That’s all. “Jason even gave me his first time because he wanted this baby so badly. I have to take responsibility for him.” My heart instantly turned ice-cold. I finally understood why she had given me that envelope with a single dollar in it. I made my decision as I looked at the woman before me, who suddenly felt like a complete stranger. I did not want her anymore.

At yet another family gathering, Kirsten Weber's male assistant, Jordan Steele, is sitting in the seat that should be mine. I ask Kirsten, "He's sitting in the host's seat. Don't you have anything to say about that?" Kirsten shoots back impatiently, "Since you showed up late, don't blame someone else for taking your seat. There's an empty seat next to it. You can take it if you want. If you don't want it, then get out." I am about to speak when her inner thoughts suddenly flood into my mind. She is saying inwardly, "Honey, get angry already. Tell me you need me. Tell me you have to sit beside me. Prove that you love me. That's the only way I'll feel secure." This time, I do not give Kirsten what her heart desires. Instead, I lower my head and slowly remove my wedding ring. Calmly, I say, "Since you won't even save the seat for the man of the house, I suppose you don't need me anymore. Let's get a divorce, Kirsten."

Brad Harrington's executive assistant was having another depressive episode. He pulled out the divorce papers. "It's just paperwork," he said. "Once she's stable, we'll remarry immediately." I picked up the documents, skimmed a few pages, then looked up at him. "I'm walking away with nothing?" His face twisted with impatience. "It's a fake divorce. Are you really going to nickel-and-dime this?" I just smiled and said nothing. Quietly, I signed my name. What he didn't know — I had been waiting for this day for a very long time.

During a rainstorm, I wait at a bus stop for three hours, but Joanne Sanders never shows up to keep her promise to pick me up. Just as I'm about to hail a cab, I see her secretary post an update on social media. In the photo is a familiar car dashboard. The caption reads, "Thanks to my boss for driving me home!" In the past, I would have bombarded Joanne with calls and messages, demanding an explanation. But this time, I simply move my finger across the screen and like the post. After I leave without a word, carrying my luggage with me, she panics and searches for me everywhere. She says, "I can change. Please don't leave me."

In the two weeks leading up to our fifth wedding anniversary banquet, my wife's secretary, Ronald Piper, sent me photos of the two of them in bed every single day. I pretend not to know. On the day of the banquet, my wife, Jessica Tuttle, books out an entire hotel and gives a heartfelt speech, saying that I am the person she is most grateful for in this lifetime. Everyone applauds through tears. Over the years, Jessica, the aloof and capable CEO, has flown a thousand miles overnight just to come home and cook me broth when my stomach hurts. And when she is sentenced to imprisonment, I willingly serve two years behind bars in her place without hesitation. To outsiders, we are a perfect couple who are deeply in love with each other. While cutting the cake, I notice the pendant on Ronald's wrist. I had to call in every favor I had to get that pendant for Jessica. Back then, she says to me, "As long as the pendant stays on, our love remains. If it's ever removed, our relationship is over." I look at Jessica, who sighs with a helpless and indulgent expression. "Felix, Ron has been having nightmares lately. He's been down with a fever, too. I lent it to him for a few days to ward off bad luck. Don't argue with a kid over something so small, okay?" She then pats Ronald's shoulder reassuringly and urges, "You should thank Felix. He's always been understanding. It's just a trinket. He wouldn't be reluctant to part with it." Ronald looks at me timidly and says, "Thank you for letting me have it. With it protecting me, I can finally sleep peacefully every night while holding it in my arms. When I get better, I'll give it back to you." My best childhood friend is furious upon hearing this. "How can you turn a blind eye to all this?" he hisses. Of course I can.

On the day we got our marriage license, Ryan Miller laid down a rule: now that we were married, if we slept in separate rooms for more than a week, we were automatically considered divorced. So every time we argued, the moment he picked up his pillow and headed for the guest room, I'd immediately give in and apologize, no matter who was at fault. For three years, he used that one rule to control me completely. On my 28th birthday, he stood me up again because of an intern at work. When he got home, I didn't reach for the diamond necklace he held out to me. He frowned, studying me for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice cold. "So, in your eyes, a birthday that comes every single year is more important than someone's life? I took Katie to the hospital and came back as fast as I could, but you still want to pick a fight? Emily, your jealousy honestly scares me." With that, he turned and walked toward the guest room. But this time, I didn't follow him.

Seven years into my marriage, my wife’s assistant Jonah Johnson showed off a multi-million dollar racecar on his social media. The caption was, “I love my job, but I love my boss even more!” As soon as I liked his post, I was blocked from it. My wife immediately called to yell at me. “Jonah just signed a huge contract, so I gave him a little reward. Did you have to scold him on social media over something like that? Don’t push your limits just because I’m kind to you!” I heard Jonah blaming himself and my wife Nia comforting him on the other side of the phone. Before I could say anything else, she hung up on me and blocked my number. The next instant, Jonah posted a screenshot of a million-dollar transfer. I knew that was Nia’s way of consoling and compensating him. This time, however, I did not care anymore.

Leon Santoro's ex-wife and their daughter pushed me down the stairs. I lost the baby. Leon came to see me in the hospital. He sat beside the bed, his expression as composed as always, and said, "She's a child. She didn't know what she was doing. I'm sorry you had to go through this. I apologize for Rosalie." "That's it?" I asked. "Just an apology?" He turned to look at me. "What else do you want? Money? Stock?" "I can't exactly make Rosalie pay with her life for what happened to your child." Your child. Not our child. So he truly never cared about the baby I was carrying. He'd made a promise to his ex-wife Giselle: Rosalie would be his only child. When I told him I was pregnant, he'd barely reacted. Just a shrug and a flat "I know," like I'd told him the weather. Thinking about it now, I looked at him and asked quietly, "You're relieved, aren't you? Now that the baby's gone."

Corbin Pryce, our company's accountant, was prosecuted by my father for embezzlement and faced a life sentence. My fiancée, Senna Harlow, got on her knees outside the building and begged my father to spare him. It enraged him so badly that he threatened to throw her in prison too. In my previous life, I defied my father to protect her. I knocked her unconscious and carried her out of there. Corbin was then sent to prison and took his own life behind bars. When Senna came to, she thanked me for saving her and treated me better than ever. However, three months after our wedding, she conspired with my father's business rival to cut off our company's funding. My father was driven to bankruptcy and jumped to his death. Then, she pinned me down in our own home and sliced me open. "You killed Corbin. Did you really think there wouldn't be a price to pay? I want you conscious for all of it—your father going off that ledge, and you dying a tragic death..." When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day Senna knelt outside the company building. This time, I decided to give her exactly what she wanted.

The entire company was on a team-building trip when a storm decided to crash our party and wash us ashore on an abandoned island. I was a survival expert, but everyone insulted me and left me behind. My boyfriend's secretary, a self-proclaimed Elf Queen who had the power to commune with nature, held my hand and asked me to stay. Her eyes were red rimmed as she begged, "You barely have the skills to survive in the wild, Ms. Titania. Going alone is risky. I can't let that happen. Your safety's on the line here." I sneered and refused her invitation. Everyone called me an ungrateful bitch, but that didn't sway me at all. I walked right into the tropical forest, where pests and venomous creatures alike had set up homes. In my previous life, my colleagues blamed me for getting stranded on a deserted island. They blamed me because they thought I wanted some spice on our trip. I understood where they were coming from. It was only natural to be scared out of their damned minds now that they were stranded, so I didn't argue. I wanted to do my best and find enough food for us to live until rescue came. However, my boyfriend's secretary would announce the location before I could inform them of the food source I'd found, and her method was identical to the ideas that could only be found in my head. Then, she told everyone she was actually an Elf Queen who could communicate with nature, and it was all thanks to the critters and plants that she managed to find sustenance so quickly. I didn't buy that crap even for a second, so I picked up the pace and tried to get the food as fast as I could. Alas, that secretary would steal my credit every single time. My apparent redundancy and repeated questioning of the Elf Queen lit something underneath my colleagues, and they burned me with their fury. All of them pushed me to hell. Just as the last of my breath left my lungs, my eyes snapped open once more. I was back to the moment that the secretary proclaimed herself as the Elf Queen.