Secretary-Kurzgeschichten & -Kurzromane

My husband chooses to stay in a honeymoon suite with his secretary during a company teambuilding event. "I'm in poor health, so I need Mr. Lowe by my side to care for me when I'm taking a dip in the hot springs. I'm sure Elaine won't be mad because she's so generous, right?" My husband wraps an arm around her waist, sounding displeased as he says, "Ignore her. I'd have wasted my time on her if she's so petty!" Our colleagues chime in. "Exactly! It's best to get a divorce if your wife gets jealous so easily! Now, Ms. Klein is gentle and considerate. You're a lucky man, Mr. Lowe!" I'm the one who recruited all of these people into the company, yet they all now despise me. Since none of them like me, there's no need for the company to exist anymore. I text my parents. "Don't bother investing in the company anymore. I no longer want it."

Before my mother passed away, the person she most wanted to see was her beloved son-in-law, Anthony Brosnan. She supported Anthony financially for five years, and the latter started his own business after graduating. At that time, I accidentally walked into his office and instantly fell in love with him at first sight. However, Anthony changed after three years of marriage and fell in love with his secretary. I called him over a dozen times, and it was the secretary who picked up the phone. "Anthony is cooking right now. Do you need something?" Just as I was about to speak, my mother overheard the voice. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she passed away filled with resentment. Anthony, since I had lost my mother, you meant nothing to me anymore.

The company held a management meeting, and my husband's secretary was standing at the door, checking everyone's identity. Every person who entered the conference room was greeted with a bright smile—until it was my turn. Then came a derisive snort. I frowned and handed over my badge from the Cybersecurity Department, but he didn't even bother to look. "Skye, Mr. Fraser only pitied you enough to make you a manager. Don't tell me you actually think you're something special?" I didn't respond. Instead, I turned around and dialed the CEO's direct line. "Someone just said this position was yours to grant out of pity. Is that true?"

On the third day of our cold war, my fiancé, Alpha Rowan Blackwood, agreed to take his assistant, Kiara Lane, on a month-long trip across three states. He packed while I was still feverish from a patrol injury and left without asking whether I could stand. He expected to come home to dozens of calls, jealous accusations, and an apology for questioning him. Instead, when he handed Kiara the border-security project I had built, I stayed up and finished the proposal she couldn't write. When she destroyed the test data, Rowan erased the activity logs and blamed me. I surrendered my management badge without defending myself. When he promoted Kiara into my position and reduced me to overnight field support, I congratulated her. For the first time in weeks, Rowan looked pleased with me. "You're finally starting to act like a proper future Luna," he said. Kiara smiled. "See? Stop fighting her. Take away enough, and eventually she'll learn which decisions belong to her Alpha." Rowan didn't deny it. Certain I had finally learned my place, he decided to return my position and hold the marking ceremony I had once begged him not to postpone. He expected gratitude. What he had forgotten was that, somewhere between restaurant photos with Kiara, he had approved a stack of documents without reading them. My resignation was in that stack. So was my transfer out of Blackwood Pack. By the time Rowan decided I was obedient enough to become his Luna, I no longer belonged to his company, his Pack—or him.

My fiancé, Conrad Reese, fell in love with his secretary, Kelly Dunn, and insisted on breaking off our engagement. I tried to reason with him. "She doesn't have any power behind her; she can't help you become the heir to the Reeses' fortune. You'd be better off keeping her as your mistress." Kelly, feeling insulted, threw herself off a building in front of everyone. Five years later, after he became the heir, the first thing he did was divorce me, destroying my family in the process. "This is what you owe Kelly," he said. I woke up again, and it was my 22nd birthday. Conrad's grandfather asked me what my wish was. "I hope Conrad and Ms. Dunn… will live happily ever after." I bowed slightly and said, "Please, Mr. Jonathan. I hope you'll let me end my engagement with Conrad."

The day my boyfriend returned from his business trip overseas, I broke up with him. He looked at me with a faint smile. "You're breaking up with me just because I didn't buy you that handbag?" "Yes." I nodded without hesitation. Seven days earlier, my boyfriend, Elias Jones, had traveled to Francoria on a business trip with his team. When he came back, he had souvenirs for everyone. Even the security guard at the office received a crocodile leather belt. Everyone got a gift except me. The bag I had been talking about for the past two months and wanted for my birthday had slipped his mind completely. Then I opened Instagram and saw a photograph his newly hired secretary had posted, proudly showing off a designer handbag. [Feeling grateful for the best boss in the world! You're the absolute best!] Elias had replied beneath the post. [It was nothing.] I stared at the screen for a long time before quietly deleting the message I had been about to send him. Melissa: [Can't wait for you to come home.] Elias and I had known each other since we were seven years old. We fell in love at eighteen and had spent the last twenty years growing up side by side. There had been a time when I was always his first priority. Somewhere along the way, everyone else started coming before me. Just like now. We were in the middle of ending our relationship when his phone lit up with a Messenger invitation from Tracy, his new secretary, asking him to join her for lunch. He glanced at the notification, smiled, and waved the whole conversation away. "Come on. Stop being dramatic. "It's just a handbag. I'll buy you one next time. "Tracy's waiting for me for lunch. Just grab a cab home." He hurried out without looking back. I did not try to stop him. Instead, I opened my chat with a studio in Brighton City. They had already invited me to join them seven different times. I finally sent my reply to their last offer. Melissa: [I've decided to accept your offer. My flight arrives tomorrow night. See you in Brighton City.] After hitting send, I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and placed it inside the top drawer of his desk. Elias… From this moment on, our lives would go in their separate directions.

At Ryder Quinn’s kindergarten parent-child sports day, I expected my husband, Michael Quinn, to be away on a business trip. Instead, I found Michael on stage, dressed in a ballet tutu, dancing as one of the "little swans" in the fathers’ performance. I had barely taken a step forward when a little girl in a floral dress darted into his arms, calling out to him in the sweetest voice, "Daddy!" There they stood: Michael, his assistant, Janine Carter, and her daughter—all in matching family outfits. The moment our eyes met, Michael quickly pulled away from her, fumbling for an excuse. "Janine’s a single mom. It isn’t easy for her. I was just helping out." I smiled, cold and steady, and handed him the divorce papers. "Then, do me a favor too, Michael. Stop wasting my youth."

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.

Before my wedding, my fiance's secretary dumped out all the Dom Perignon champagne I had ordered for the guests and replaced it with Yoo-hoo. I turned grim instantly and demanded an explanation. But my fiance—who had always claimed to dote on me—stood firmly in front of his secretary to defend her. "Susie only had your best interest. Don't ruin the mood for everyone." His pack of so-called friends burst into laughter, egging him on. "Come on, don't be petty, Giselle. It's just a few bottles of Dom Perignon. Don't be so selfish." Yet their eyes were enveloped in evident malicious amusement. At that moment, one thing became certain: this fiance had to be replaced.

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.

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!"

I was finally pregnant after three years of marriage. I was going to head to where my husband works with a lunchbox in my hand to tell him the good news. But I ended up being mistaken as a mistress by his secretary. She dumped the food I had prepared on my head, stripped my clothes off, and continued to hit me until I had a miscarriage. “You’re just a servant. How dare you seduce Mr. Gates and bear his child? “Today, I’ll make sure you suffer the consequences of being a mistress!” She then went to my husband asking for a reward. “Mr. Gates, I took care of a servant who wanted to seduce you. How are you going to reward 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.

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.

At the company's tenth-anniversary celebration, my wife's male secretary was in charge of the raffle. When it was time for the grand prize, he somehow drew his own name. My wife asked him what he wanted, and he pointed at the watch on my wrist. I flatly refused. How could a personal belonging be used as a prize? But the male secretary turned to my wife and whined, "That watch is a limited edition. There's only one in the world." My wife signaled for me to give the watch to him. I argued my case, but my wife slapped me across the face instead. "It's just a watch. Don't ruin the mood of the anniversary celebration." I smiled, took off the watch, and handed it to her secretary. It was a wedding gift from her that I had treasured for years, but now, I had decided to throw away both the watch and her.

At the Moretti Group's annual awards ceremony, I'd just stepped up to the podium when the screen behind me suddenly went black. A second later, it lit up with dozens of screenshots of private messages. The whole banquet hall erupted. The sender was me. The recipient was Vito Moretti, the company's chairman and the most feared Don in New York's underworld. "When's this month's money coming? Hurry up!" "I'm coming over tonight. Remember to leave the door unlocked for me." "If you don't say yes, I won't come see you tomorrow." The final screenshot showed a transfer for a hefty sum. Then Vito's chief secretary, Victoria Sloane, walked onto the stage. "Isabella is a gold digger! She's been secretly seducing the chairman for money, and she's even tried to meddle in how the company is run. "How does someone like that get to be the company's Employee of the Year?" Down in the audience, the executives looked thunderous, and countless employees stared at me with open contempt. Victoria walked up to me with her nose in the air. "Isabella, if you know what's good for you, you'll admit what you did in front of everyone and drop out of the running!" I looked at her smug, triumphant face and laughed. Wait. Isn't Vito my husband? I sweet-talk my own husband into giving me spending money, and she calls it seducing the chairman for cash?

I was the only daughter of the Sheffield family, and I had three older brothers. Life was going well until a memo app appeared on my phone. [June 15th: My eldest brother, Ian Sheffield, signed a bet agreement with his female secretary, and Sheffield Group's market value plummeted by 80 billion dollars.] [September 3rd: My second brother, Hayes Sheffield, was tricked by his dream girl and left the shareholders' meeting with nothing to his name.] [December 1st: My third brother, Liam Sheffield, gave up his inheritance rights for his dream girl, and the Sheffield family was completely ruined.] Just like that, I, Trina Sheffield, lost all three of my guaranteed providers? From that day on, I began the 'Save My Providers' plan. I swiped Ian's black card for 30 million dollars a day, causing him to become busy handling returns and customer complaints all day. I flew Hayes' private jet to Prosia and casually dismantled the entire interior, saying I was going to redo it. He was so mad that he kept me under surveillance through an eight-hour international video call. I turned Liam's temperature-controlled wine cellar into a karaoke room and sang all night, even using all eight million dollars' worth of wine for foot baths. Dark eye circles constantly plagued my three brothers from all this fuss; they did not even have time to look at their phones. As long as I was around, they could only revolve around me. This went on until a female secretary, Erin Langley, suddenly appeared in Ian's office. She glanced at me, her tone gentle but her eyes icy. "Little girl, the CEO's office isn't a playground. You can get lost and go play now." The corridor fell silent. My most fiercely protective brother, Ian, was about to push open the door and walk in.

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.

On my first day after being appointed President of the Castellano Group, I had just reached the main entrance of the company headquarters when a female employee stopped me. “Only senior management is allowed through this entrance. Janitorial staff must use the side entrance.” I frowned slightly. “I’m not janitorial staff.” Instead of backing down, she took the senior employee ID badge from her chest and waved it in front of me with a mocking smile. “Not janitorial staff?” “Then you’re an intern?” “Interns have to use the side entrance too! This has been a long-standing rule of our company!” “If you can’t even follow such a basic rule, pack your things and get out right now!” I glanced at the ID badge in her hand. Executive Assistant? Wasn’t she my fiancé, Damian Castellano’s, personal assistant? I immediately called Damian to confront him, only to hear his indulgent chuckle from the other end. “That little wildcat has quite the temper.” “Forget it. Using the side entrance won’t hurt you. Just let her have her way.” “Otherwise, how is she supposed to hold her head up at the company from now on?” With that, he hung up. The female assistant lifted her chin and sneered. “What are you pretending for? Hurry up and move!” “Senior executives will be coming through this entrance later. Don’t get their expensive shoes dirty!” I was so angry that I laughed. I pushed her aside, used my own authorization to unlock the main entrance, and walked inside without a hint of urgency. If the company’s old rules had already rotted to this point, then today, I would be the one to rewrite them.