Secretary 단편 소설 & 소설

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.

It was right before the Full Moon Gala for our seventh mating anniversary. My fated mate, Alpha Caleb, pinned me against the wall for a deep kiss. His large hands roamed my body, eyes burning with lust. He almost couldn't resist stripping me naked right then and there. Blushing, I pushed him away. "We have the Full Moon Gala to attend. How can they start without the Alpha and Luna?" He let me go reluctantly, wrapping an arm around my waist as we headed to the venue. Seeing the hickey on my neck, his Beta, Marco, smirked and asked him in the pack's obscure old Lycan tongue. "Alpha, who's hotter in bed? The Luna or your new Omega assistant?" Caleb casually handed me a pastry, then carelessly replied in the old Lycan tongue. "That Omega is so tight she drives me fucking crazy. But keep your mouths shut. If the Luna finds out, she'll leave me. Her temper is fiercer than that Omega's body." His Beta and Gamma chuckled, promising to keep their Alpha's secret. I stood right there, while my inner wolf let out a mournful whimper. Caleb had no idea. To help him run the pack better, I had pored over ancient texts and mastered their secret tongue long ago. I also knew long ago that he had an Omega mistress. But I didn't cry or throw a fit. I simply submitted an application to the Hidden Sanctuary of the Supreme Healers' Council in silence. In three days, I would do exactly what he feared. I would sever our mate bond completely and leave his territory forever.

Marshall Locke, the assistant working for my wife, Amelia Stone, leaves out three zeroes on a contract. It leads to ten million dollars in losses for the company. The factory that has collaborated with us on the project goes bankrupt, and its owner jumps off a building as a result of the situation. All Marshall does is shed a few tears, and Amelia immediately pins all the blame on me. She claims I single-handedly managed the entire project. I get sued in court, which leaves me ten million dollars in debt. When the deceased's family posts about me online, the entire internet curses me out, saying that I should die too. My entire industry blacklists me. The career I've painstakingly built up for myself is destroyed just like that. But when I confront Amelia about this, she simply looks at her freshly manicured nails and says airily, "Marshall is young and inexperienced. You've been in the business for so many years now. It's not like this has caused any damage to you." Recalling the way she and Marshall had been wrapped up in a passionate kiss before I came in, I pull out the divorce agreement I prepared in advance and toss it at her. "Sign it."

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?

For five years, I was Carlos’s dirty little secret. In the light of day, I was his executive assistant, handling his legitimate businesses while he treated me with cold, professional detachment. In the shadows, I was the woman he claimed to love more than life itself, the one who warmed his bed while he whispered promises against my skin. That was until I found out I was pregnant. I was ready to tell him, to finally ask for a life in the light. But then, I discovered Carlos had purchased a secluded estate in the suburbs—a fortress meant for a wife. I followed him there, heart in my throat, only to watch through the window as his hand slid beneath a woman’s silk lingerie, his eyes burning with a raw desire I thought belonged only to me. "Sophie," he groaned, his voice rough with emotion. "I stayed unmarried all these years for one reason. I was waiting for you to come back to the States. Marry me." The sounds of their pleasure echoed from the room. The shock was a physical blow; my body revolted, and the stress induced a miscarriage right there in the cold. When I woke up in the hospital, empty and broken, I made a call I had been avoiding for years. I accepted the arranged marriage my family had set up for me—a political alliance with a rival syndicate. The next morning,I would vanish from Carlos’s life forever.

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!

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.

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?

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.

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."

My husband, Gavin Chapman, is giving his secretary, Natasha Gardner, exactly what she wants. He's making her his wife. To pull it off, he fakes a lab accident, pretends to have amnesia, and brings her home. In his office, Gavin wraps his arms around Natasha and murmurs indulgently, "Not just Mrs. Chapman. Even if you want to pretend to be the vice president for a week, I'll let you." My eyes dim, but I let the lie go on. The next day, at a press conference, Gavin holds Natasha's hand and tells the world she's his real wife. He even threatens to kick me out of the company and take over all my research data. Dozens of cameras swivel toward me, waiting for my outburst. But I stay silent and simply sign the termination papers. Gavin doesn't know that the pharmaceutical project he believes will be done in seven days isn't quite finished. There's still one final step, and I'm the only one who knows how to do it.

At the party celebrating the multimillion-dollar deal I've landed, my husband, Nick Ferguson, is about to announce my promotion and raise, but Ruby Holm, his secretary, deliberately interrupts him by feeding him her drink. My germaphobic husband doesn't even flinch. Without thinking, he puts the straw she has just used into his mouth. The employees immediately start teasing them, asking when they're getting married. Instead of denying it, Nick promotes Ruby to department manager. A coworker nudges my elbow. "Chloe, you've been with Mr. Ferguson for ten years. You're really not going to say anything?" I let out a cold laugh and toss my equity transfer agreement to Ruby. "Mr. Ferguson, don't be so stingy. A promotion isn't enough. Take these shares too. Consider them my wedding gift to the two of you!"

For eight years, I was James Carter's secretary and secret lover. Eight years of giving him my heart completely. I truly believed he loved me back - he was always tender and attentive when we were intimate, seemingly caring about my every need and desire. But then I overheard him telling others, "She's nothing but a stand-in, just someone to satisfy my physical needs when I'm bored. Did you really think I would marry her?" In that moment, I finally found the strength to let go and stop loving him. I handed in my resignation and walked away from it all. Yet after my whirlwind marriage to someone else, why did he suddenly start searching for me desperately across the city? Now he's here with tears in his eyes, claiming I'm the one he truly loves? Wasn't I just his convenient replacement all along?

On the day of our wedding, my husband's assistant deliberately found an excuse to make me step outside. She put on a wedding dress and walked onto the stage before I did. She officially played the part of the bride. When my husband found out, not only did he not stop her, but he even held her hand with their fingers intertwined. He gazed at her lovingly and completed the wedding ceremony with a look of pure happiness. When I finally realized what was happening and was about to confront him, my husband immediately lashed out at me, "You were the one who showed up late and delayed the wedding ceremony. Do you expect all those guests to just sit there and wait for you? Can you be any more selfish? "Mia was only trying to help us with the wedding. Don't act like you're the victim after benefiting from it. I'll just make it up to you and hold another wedding for you later!" My friends were all stunned. They thought I would throw a fit after hearing such ridiculous words from my husband. Instead, I nodded and said he was right. Seeing how calm I was, my husband became even more pleased with himself. He said that since we had already received our marriage certificate, he would hold a proper wedding for me once he had time. He seemed to have forgotten one thing. We had just signed our divorce agreement yesterday.

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back. The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage. I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?" He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?" Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname." It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him. I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked. "Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."

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.

My husband, Keaton Smyth, CEO of Orion Corp, ran the company under strict rules. I brought in a $10 million investment. But I clocked in one second late, so bye-bye VP promotion. I got accused of disrespecting company policy, demoted, and slapped with a pay cut. Then there was Evie Larsen, his shiny new assistant. She ditched work on the day of a huge contract signing and trashed Orion's only shot with a public company. Keaton's response? No punishment. No write-up. He called it "personality," promoted her right there, gave her a raise, and tossed her a river-view apartment as company housing. Evie still wanted more. She pushed to take over Orion's core project, all so she could "prove herself." I shut her down. That same day, she marched into Keaton's office and accused me of power-tripping, insulting her, and refusing to train her. I thought Keaton would see through it. The next morning, my name was gone from the project team. My file access was revoked, too. "Since you're too senior to mentor new hires, you're starting over. Entry-level sales rep. Same level as them." Everyone waited for me to snap. I just smiled and handed over the flash drive with the project data. Keaton nodded, pleased. "Don't let it happen again." What he didn't know? That data wasn't complete. The second they uploaded it, the errors would tank the project—and trigger a breach-of-contract penalty big enough to bury them.

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 husband lies to me about working late on Christmas Day. I know he wants to give me a surprise—I saw a jewelry set worth millions of dollars in his pocket. However, all I receive is the news of him pretending to be Santa Claus as he delivers a gift to his female secretary. She flaunts it on social media. "You're the most precious Christmas gift I've gotten." My husband changes the background photo on his social media to a photo of them together. I smile and like the post. Later, the secretary comes to me and smugly says she's pregnant. Meanwhile, I pull out a diagnosis report verifying that my husband is sterile. "Checkmate!" She visibly panics.

My fiancé Felix Morgan’s secretary Claire believed in tarot the way other people believed in gravity. The first time she met me, she threw a glass of water in my face. Without missing a beat, she explained to Felix, "You have an important client today. The cards say that if your lover wears makeup, it will ruin your luck." I assumed Felix would punish her for it. Instead, he turned to me. "Audrey, go take it off. The client comes first." After that, she only got bolder. On our anniversary, she said Felix would face bloodshed or even death if he saw me that day. So I did not see Felix once all day. When we planned our pre-wedding shoot, she said I would bring Felix bad luck that year. The photo shoot I had spent weeks planning was quietly canceled. I fought with Felix about it more times than I could count. And every time, he gave me the same self-righteous speech: "Claire is an extremely dedicated secretary. Everything she does is for me and for the company. The more I earn, the better the life I can give you!" Then I found out I was pregnant. Claire said, "This baby was conceived at an unlucky time. It will hold Felix's career back." Felix did not hesitate for a second. "Get rid of it. Claire wouldn't steer me wrong. There will be other babies. We'll have Claire pick a good time later." Something inside me finally broke. I put a hand on my stomach. Fine. Then this baby wouldn't carry the Morgan name.