Secretary Short Stories & Novels

Right before Memorial Day weekend, I finally land a rush order from an overseas client, but they insist on delivery on the first day after the holiday. The factory has been sitting idle for two weeks, and the profit from this single order is enough to keep the entire company running for the next six months. I immediately post a notice in the company group chat. "Anyone willing to work over the holiday weekend gets paid five times their base rate, but it's completely voluntary." Nobody takes the offer. Instead, the new intern, Howard Chase, screenshots my message and posts it online. "Heartless boss treats us like machines and forces us to give up Memorial Day weekend." To make matters worse, a few veteran workers chime in with skepticism. "I've never seen anyone actually get paid five times the base rate. I'll believe it when I see it." That very night, the post goes viral, and the onslaught of online criticism forces me to turn off my phone. What's even more absurd is that Howard secretly creates another group chat to rally the workers and pressure me into increasing the pay even more. The next day, I hold a meeting and lay out the cost sheet right in front of everyone. "Paying you five times your base rate already eats up 80% of the profit from this order. The rest has to cover our rent for the second half of the year. I'm not keeping a single dime for myself." I figure laying all my cards on the table like this will make them understand. But Howard immediately goes back to the group chat and stirs everyone up. "Don't back down, everyone! He can definitely pay more. Hold the line until he gives us ten times the base rate!" That's when I lose faith in them completely. I spend the whole night thinking it over, and by morning I know exactly what to do. At the meeting the next day, I announce with a smile, "Management accepts everyone's criticism and will make major changes. Everyone gets the entire Memorial Day weekend off. Not a single day of overtime." Everyone freezes. Someone quietly asks what I am going to do about the order. "I outsourced it. At five times the normal rate, plenty of people are happy to jump at the chance," I reply. By that afternoon, the outsourcing contract is signed, and the client has signed off on the arrangement. Once that sinks in, every single worker starts to panic.

When I found Silas Pembroke, he was carefully untangling a strand of another woman’s hair from his tie clip. The two of them were wrapped around each other, far too close to pretend otherwise. He let out a mocking laugh. “Jenna, what exactly are you going to accuse Sienna and me of this time?” Sienna Vale smiled sweetly. “Mrs. Pembroke, you stayed away longer than usual this time.” I steadied myself and said, “I’m not Jenna. I’m her twin sister, Summer Sinclair.” Silas burst out laughing. “What is this, your latest stunt?” Then his expression hardened. “Keep pushing me, and I can’t promise you’ll stay Mrs. Pembroke forever.” I only looked at him and said quietly, “Silas, my sister left three keepsakes behind for you.”

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."

On our seventh mating anniversary, my Alpha mate, Ronan Thorne, abandons me once again for his secretary, Evelyn Stone's sake. This time, I don't kick up a fuss at all. Instead, I calmly draw out a silver dagger in hopes of ending my life. The moment the tip of the dagger is pressed against my neck, I feel someone grab my wrist all of a sudden. "Why are you hurting yourself? Who broke your heart?" I looked up in a daze, only to see the 18-year-old version of Ronan. He's so anxious that his eyes have gone red. At the same time, he keeps trying to embrace me. "Tell me who that bastard is! I'll make him pay!" I don't explain anything at all. Instead, I merely utter his name softly. After that, the current Ronan personally locks me up in the dungeon. He claims that I need to reflect on myself—that I shouldn't target Evelyn out of jealousy. Just then, the younger Ronan appears again. He stares at the older and cold-looking Ronan outside the silver bars, then turns back to look at me with disbelief written all over his eyes. I just nod in response. He clenches his fists tightly. Soon, a furious roar escapes his throat. "He's not worthy of being your mate! I'll kill anyone who wants to hurt you, regardless of who they are!" As opposed to the 28-year-old Ronan, the 18-year-old version of him loves me more than anything else in the world. Naturally, he will definitely stick to the promises he has made to me.

My fiancé, Alpha Caleb, had an Omega secretary. One day, she took the Thorne pack's black card on a massive shopping spree in the luxury district. She even mocked me in a high-end salon. She called me a useless Rogue with no background—just a leech clinging to the Alpha. I snapped and cut off her access. She tried to pay. The card declined. She became the laughingstock of the pack. The Enforcers even detained her in the holding cells for a whole day and night. Caleb found out. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. His hot Alpha breath hit my neck. He bit my earlobe gently. "Aurelia, stop acting like a jealous little she-wolf. You have no manners. You embarrassed her in front of the whole pack." He didn't scold me. He acted normally. Until our anniversary night. He booked the Cloud Room, the most exclusive restaurant downtown. He ordered dozens of vintage wines and expensive caviar, promising a celebration with the core pack members. "Honey, I need to take a call. I will be right back." I waited and waited. The restaurant was about to close. No sign of him. No sign of his so-called friends. I pulled out his supplementary card to pay the bill. The manager looked at me coldly. "Miss, your card is frozen."

During the company retreat, my husband put my dignity on the poker table. He deliberately threw the game to the twenty-two-year-old intern, feeding her the winning hand and letting her bask in everyone's applause. I frowned and was about to speak, but my husband gently patted the back of my hand. "Don't take it too seriously, lady boss. Let the young girl have her fun." When the intern's gaze settled on the diamond bracelet around my wrist, I instinctively reached to protect the last shred of dignity I had left. Before I could say a word, my husband had already agreed on my behalf. "Fine. We'll bet that." Laughter erupted around the table, and my heart went cold. Just then, my baby suddenly stirred inside me, and a tiny voice echoed in my mind. 'Mommy, bet with her. I'm your little lucky charm. I'll make sure you win.' I raised my eyes to meet the intern's challenging stare. Then, without breaking eye contact, I slowly slipped the bracelet off my wrist.

My daughter, Vivian Montiago, is born with a heart condition. To protect her, I decide to spend 200 million dollars on building a prestigious preschool for her in the company's park. I don't want her to be lonely, so I also decide to allow the other employees' children to attend the preschool for free to keep Vivian company. However, on the first day of preschool, Vivian's smartwatch alert keeps going off. When I rush over to the preschool, I find out that Vivian is all tied up and left to die under the hot afternoon sun. Her skin is red and blistering, and her lips are purple as she teeters on the edge of death. "Are you all blind? Call the ambulance!" I yell in anger, grabbing Vivian and rushing out of the place. However, Hailey Lester, my husband's secretary, gets in my way. "You seduced my husband and birthed an illegitimate child. How dare you try to get away without being punished?" she screams, slapping me hard in the face. "I'm telling you that this preschool is a gift to me and my son from Rhett! And you're not allowed to step out of this place without my explicit permission!" "Her life is in danger! We'll talk about that later!" I exclaim, not wanting to argue with her. However, she kicks me to the ground and says, "So what if his bastard daughter dies? He can have a daughter with me if he really wants one!" The company employees don't seem to care about Vivian's health condition at all. They point at me and say, "Ms. Lester is Mr. Montiago's beloved wife, and she also owns this place! You're nothing but a homewrecker trying to take advantage of the free preschool program. Get down and apologize at once!" Fine. Since everyone is as blind as my husband, Rhett Montiago, in realizing who the real deal is, I decide that I am not sparing a single one of them.

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.

Liam Hurley's favorite thing to say to me is, "Don't worry." Don't worry. Once he consolidates his power and ends the internal strife of the pack, we'll reveal our relationship. Because of that, I waited for two years. Don't worry. We'll hold the bonding ceremony as soon as his mother accepts me. I waited for another three. In the fifth year, at the banquet celebrating Liam's rise to Alpha of the Ashmoon pack, his mother, Elana Gibson, unclasps the moonstone necklace from around her neck in front of everyone. Liam told me long ago that passing down the moonstone necklace is the Ashmoon pack's official ritual for acknowledging a Luna. I figure Liam won't be telling me not to worry this time. "Here, let me put this on you." Elana walks right past me and gently fastens the necklace around the neck of Lilith Powell, Liam's assistant. The whole banquet hall falls dead silent. Elana pats the back of her hand with a warm smile. "Lilith is so sweet and kind, and she's been a massive help to Liam. She has a special place in my heart." I hear someone whisper, "What about Freya?" Liam lowers his voice. "My mother cherishes bonds. Lilith really has done a lot for me, so don't take it personally. Don't worry, okay? Next month, I'll take you to pick out a better moonstone necklace that's way more valuable than that one." As the crowd scatters, Lilith strokes the necklace and gives me a smug smile. "Freya, are you jealous? Elana says this moonstone has been passed down for seven generations in the Ashmoon pack." I tell her I am. Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. "Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Nordravia?"

On the day of mafia families' annual gathering, my mother and I sat in the back of a Lincoln, heading toward the Falcone estate. I was adjusting my dress when my phone buzzed with a video from my fiancé's secretary. The footage showed a middle-aged woman being dragged by her hair across a marble floor. Her cheek was already swelling, red and angry. The secretary's sharp voice cut through the audio as she delivered slap after slap. "Gianna, you pathetic gold-digger! Did you really think you could fool Don Falcone into marrying you, and then let your thieving mother wander into the estate to lift his mother's jewelry? Please." Another slap. The woman's head snapped to the side. "I'm doing Don Falcone a favor by handling this trash." I lowered the phone. My mother sat beside me, checking her watch with a slight frown. When she felt my gaze, she looked up and smiled, then reached over to fold my hand between both of hers. "The Falcone family is struggling with the new casino licensing, but we can help them with that since Don Falcone is your fiancé," she said lightly, "He is a striking man, sweetheart. Once the alliance is sealed, your father and I can help straighten things out." I frowned and replayed the video. Long dark hair pulled back loosely. Warm brown eyes filled with pain. A small scar on her left eyebrow. Oh God. The injured woman was none other than Anthony's mother! I called the secretary immediately. "Lilian, you idiot. That's Anthony's mother!" She let out a vicious laugh. "Please, I know exactly who you are, Gianna. A nobody his father pushed onto him. Don Falcone doesn't give a damn about you, so why would he care about your family?"

He grows up with Sabrina Reed, who used to be his brother's fiancée. He's always respected her as his future sister-in-law. But after his brother's untimely death, she slowly becomes the woman who holds his heart. He thinks she'll eventually marry him… until she shows up with her hand in another man's. She says, "I'm getting married. From today onward, you can only think of me as your sister!"

My newlywed husband forces me, a late-stage liver cancer patient, to drink hard liquor just to please his secretary. When the secretary later stages a setup, pretending to take a knife for him, she loses too much blood. In a panic, he demands that I give her a blood transfusion. I name my price—ten million dollars. He sneers. "Your blood really is worth its weight in gold, huh?" Of course it is. A liver cancer patient's blood doesn't come cheap. Later, when his precious secretary crashes into my car, he mocks me again. "You caused the accident on purpose, didn't you? Stop pretending—you just want more money. Wendy Yaeger, you disgust me." I'm done. All I want now is to get that divorce certificate before I die, but he looks down at me with disdain. "Don't use such pathetic tricks to get my attention. You're not even qualified to negotiate with me." Fine. Once I'm dead, the marriage will end on its own.

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.

Giselle Shaw, the intern, has sent a five-dollar bonus to the company's group chat that has 500 members in it. I get crowned as the luckiest person for being able to claim 20 cents from the bonus. So, Giselle tags me in the group chat immediately. "Hey Rebecca! Since you're the luckiest person in the group chat, why don't you send a bonus here? There are 500 people in this group chat altogether, so you can just send 5,000 dollars here. "5,000 dollars isn't much for you, right? It so happens to be the bonus you've received from Mr. Gallagher because of the project you've secured. You can send us the bonus so that we can get some good luck from you!" The moment I refuse, Giselle begins playing the pity card in the group chat by claiming that she can't reap good luck for everyone in the company. My boyfriend, Vincent Gallagher, rushes into my office and starts berating me angrily. "Rebecca Campbell, just how stingy are you to not want to send a five-thousand-dollar bonus to the group chat despite being a higher-up in this company? You even made a young woman cry! Is this how you do things? "You'd better send a 50-thousand-dollar bonus to the group chat right now and write a five-thousand-word apology letter by hand! I want you to sincerely apologize to Giselle as well! Otherwise, I'll break up with you! You can forget about retaining your position in this company, too!"

After my husband picked up his secretary and our son, they went into the hotel for a business meeting. Photos of them were trending online. I gave him a call to ask him about it, but he hung up on me impatiently. “I’m meeting a client. Obviously, we’re meeting at the hotel! Can you stop being unreasonable?” I was busy contacting IT support to retract the trending topics. Two hours later, I received a call from the emergency department of the hospital. When I reached the hospital, my son was already dead. In his hand, he was still holding a staff ID tag. The secretary’s name was on the tag. I broke down crying. My husband, Zac Davis, had blocked my number so I could not reach him. After I completed the hospital procedures, Zac finally returned my call. He sounded very angry and impatient, “Did you fetch our son? Why didn’t you inform me? Don’t you know that we’re all waiting for him to pass us the agreement? Just send the document over now!” After that, he immediately hung up and blocked my number again. I stared at the notification on my phone and sneered. I was going to snatch your clients and force you into a dead end!

We’d been together for seven years, but during that entire time, my fiancée rejected the idea of getting married ninety-nine times, all because of a male intern. The first time, she canceled our vacation at the last minute, saying the intern was stuck on a night shift and afraid of the dark. She got on a flight that very night and rushed back to the hospital. The second time, we were already halfway through the doors of the courthouse to get our marriage registered. But just then, she got word that the intern had collapsed from exhaustion. Without a second thought, she left me standing alone in the snow for the entire day. After that, it became a pattern. Every time we were together, the intern would find some excuse to pull her away. Eventually, I made up my mind to let go. I stopped dreaming about a happy marriage with her. However, just when I announced I was transferring to another city, she broke down, begging me, almost hysterically, not to leave.

I am the most secret Principessa of the Sicilian "Shepherd" Mafia. For my safety, my identity was a closely guarded secret since birth. I lived in the shadows, leaving the outside world entirely ignorant of my true standing. On my wedding day, my mafia fiancé allowed his female bodyguard to feed my family's heirloom token to his dog. He mocked me for coming from some "backwater" family, claiming I wasn't worthy to be his bride. He even threatened to wipe my family off the map.. Looking this, I simply made a single phone call. Moments later, armored vehicles crashed through the estate gates, and our family’s chief Consigliere knelt me in front of the terrified crowd:"Principessa, your father sent us to bring you home." It was only at that moment that my arrogant fiancé finally understood. The woman he had humiliated was the sole heir to the "Shepherd" family that controlled the European arms trade. But it was too late for regrets.

When Evelyn Berkeley signed the contract, she thought she was one step away from happiness. She'd loved Liam Dudley for ten years. She'd given him her heart the moment she first saw him at 15, even though their marriage had been a "deal" from the start. For three years, she'd been his hidden Luna, the assistant he could summon at will, and the mate he slept with but refused to have a child with. She put up with his coldness, his neglect, and his betrayal, because she still held on to one naive hope. Maybe someday, he'd finally see her. Then her half sister, Lily Berkeley, came back. Evelyn was pushed down the stairs. Pregnant with twins, she lay in a pool of blood while her husband swept another woman into his arms and walked away. Only then did she understand. Some love can't be taken back once you've given it, and some people will never love you back. The day she signed the papers to dissolve their mate contract, the proud Alpha finally bowed his head. But some wounds can't be healed by a belated "I love you," and real love takes a lifetime to prove. This is a story about mistaken identity, missed chances, and choosing again. When love has burned to ash, can it ever be lit again?

Tatum picked out our family car, saying that it would be a beautiful way to start our life together. After we got married, though, I had to push the passenger seat all the way forward. The rear-view mirror never caught my entire face. The seat belt pressed painfully against my collarbone. The headrest hit the back of my head at the worst angle possible. I once asked if the seat could be set to my preferred position. He shut me down, claiming the passenger settings were saved, so it was best not to meddle and overwrite the car's memory profile. I never brought the subject up again. One time, my flight landed at eleven at night on my return from a business trip. I called him thrice. Tatum didn't pick up the first time and rejected my call on the next. He texted me then. "Take an Uber home. I'm in a meeting." Outside the airport, rain came down in sheets. I stood in the taxi line for forty minutes, hauling my suitcases behind me. When my ride passed his office, I spotted his car parked by the curb, and someone sat in the front with him. It was Hazel, his longtime executive assistant. Standing at 5'7", she wore her hair down to her waist. The passenger seat was pulled back just enough for her; the headrest rested perfectly behind her head, and the seat belt crossed her chest at exactly the right angle. Everything was to her measurements, all right. So when Tatum chose the car, the woman he had pictured sitting next to him had never been me.

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.