Bias Wrecker Meaning

During the holiday season, a flood hits. The company's warehouse is submerged up to the third floor. Due to the emergency, I have my assistant tell everyone to come back a day early to help. I promise that the company will provide stipends and extra time off to make up for this. But on that day, a Gen Z employee goes live across the internet to report me. "Oh, my God. It's 2025, yet there are still companies forcing employees to adjust their time off and work overtime! Is this heartless boss so broke that she needs to exploit us like this? Will she die if she doesn't squeeze us out of every drop of usefulness? Company notices override the law. Impressive stuff, this is!" Soon, the company ends up on the trending list due to criticism from the online community. Even the regulators come knocking to hold us accountable. In the end, the company is forced to cancel the notice. A lot of equipment isn't salvaged in time, resulting in significant losses. The employee even posts a victory lap. "Give the boss a tiny lesson—see if she dares to force overtime again!" I'm so angry that I laugh out loud. I tell my assistant to cancel the annual benefit we give all employees—an entire month of paid time off for Christmas and the New Year holidays. If we have to stick strictly to the law, then fine. Have it your way!

I went viral, all for the wrong reasons. The world came down hard on me, all because I refused to approve my employee, Cassandra’s, maternity leave. Cassandra tore me apart online. “Why won’t you grant me maternity leave? “The government wants the birth rate to go up. Even if you’re the CEO, you can’t go against the law. “I get it. The low birth rate exists because heartless capitalists like you treat employees like nothing. “Fam, back me up here. Am I wrong to protect my unborn child? “I have a legal right to maternity leave.” With her words striking a chord with the young generation, the livestream became a viral sensation. Many spammed the company’s social media to criticise me. There were memes of me as a funeral portrait everywhere. Some even mailed wreaths to the office. The board ordered me to apologize live. I plugged into Cassandra’s stream and looked at her calmly. “I’m sorry, but I still can’t approve your leave.”

To fund my daughter's medical treatment, I consider reconnecting with my estranged family until an expected phone call changes everything. "Sir, your diamond necklace has arrived. You may come tomorrow to pick it up." After confirming the order is placed using my and my wife's contract information, my hope sparks. Perhaps the medical bills will finally be covered. When I arrive at the luxury boutique to claim the necklace, the sales clerk frowns, eyeing me from head to toe. "You're saying… you bought this necklace?" I nod, irritated by the condescension. "What happened to the service? Did all the luxury jewelers forget how to treat customers while I was away?" I said inwardly. The clerk flashes me a polite smile and turns to "retrieve" the item, but in reality, he radios the security. "Security, we have a suspected thief here."

My health was not good, but I had always wanted a child. My husband, citing concern for my health, avoided intimacy with me for a year. Then I stumbled across his private messages with another woman. [You'll spend Valentine's Day with me, right? You're not going to touch her tonight, are you?] [You know I don't like doing it just to make babies. Got you some lingerie. Wear it for me tomorrow.] That ill-fitting lace lingerie he was talking about was on my body. I'd slipped it on while he was in the shower, thinking it was a Valentine's Day surprise from him. Turned out, he hadn't bought the wrong size. He had just sent it to the wrong address. I clicked on the woman's profile. Her latest video showed her at the beach, hand in hand with the person filming. I recognized her hand instantly. It belonged to my best friend.

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

Alexander Morrison doesn't love me, nor does he love our daughter. The only person he loves is his first love, Charlotte Clarke. To maintain his perfect image in Charlotte's eyes, he only allows our daughter to call him "Uncle Alex". This continues until Charlotte becomes pregnant and goes abroad to marry someone else. Alexander drinks himself into oblivion and finally decides to marry me. When he comes home, our daughter gives him 100 forgiveness coupons. I tell him that once those 100 coupons are used up, I'll take our daughter and leave him forever. He holds us both tightly in his arms, swearing he will never make us sad again. During the initial few years of our secret marriage, he indeed does exceptionally well, as not a single coupon is used. That is, until Charlotte returns to the country with her daughter. Every time he abandons me and our daughter for Charlotte and her child, I tear off one forgiveness coupon. Now, only three coupons remain.

At twenty-eight, I held the dubious honor of being the last unmarried socialite on New York's Upper East Side. Everyone around me was growing increasingly anxious about my single status. In my previous life, my mother arranged a matchmaking cocktail party, where I was told to choose a husband from ten handpicked elite bachelors. I bribed the event planner to place Mark West's profile at the very top—and as I had hoped, I chose him. After we married, Mark treated me with what seemed like tender affection. He even bought me an oceanfront villa in the Hamptons, making me believe I had finally found true love. But that illusion shattered the day I was nine months pregnant, just hours away from giving birth. Mark drove a scalpel straight into my abdomen—then, right in front of me, hurled our newborn onto the floor. "If you hadn't forced me into this marriage with your family's power, Sofia wouldn't have been heartbroken enough to go drinking and get drugged and assaulted. This… this is what you owe her!" He tossed the scalpel aside, then calmly let his private doctor pin down my blood-soaked body. I fought through excruciating pain for six agonizing hours, until I finally bled to death. Afterward, Mark dumped my corpse into the Hudson River. But for Sofia, he hosted a grand funeral—funded with my money, under my name—and paraded himself to the world as a grieving, devoted widower. Given a second chance at life, I refused to step foot in that cursed matchmaking event. Instead, I went straight to my mother with a demand: marry me to Robert Black—the most ruthless, cold-blooded titan of Wall Street, whose scarred face was feared by all. In the end, stripped of my financial backing, Mark's hedge fund collapsed. He became a disgraced fraudster, spat on by everyone on Wall Street.

The powerful Stratton family, a tech industry titan, claimed I was their long-lost son. They brought me back from my remote mountain sanctuary. However, when I arrived, my father accused me of peddling superstition and called me a fraud. My adopted brother, the false heir, spread rumors that I was practicing dark magic and cursing the family. My uncle sided with him. He put on a serious face as he warned me. “Ethan, the Stratton family built this empire on technology. If you insist on this occult nonsense, you’ll leave us with no choice but to disown you!” Confronted with their ignorant ridicule and malicious setup, I felt the urge to roll my eyes. I thought. “Whoever said I came back to reconnect? I came down from that mountain to save your lives! Are you really too blind to see everything is about to come crashing down in your family?”

One day, after getting rear-ended outside my office, I, Maeve Dahlman, call out for help, but Austin Cooper, who is simply passing by with Carmen Holt, merely glances at me impatiently, annoyed that I've disrupted their lunch plans. Instead of helping, he has his assistant take me to his private club and lock me in a room, accusing me of being paranoid and dramatic. "I'll give you three days to calm down," he says before walking away and leaving me in isolation. Eventually, I escape and call the police. An ambulance rushes me to the hospital, where doctors diagnose me with a brain injury that requires immediate surgery. I keep calling Austin, only to realize that he has blocked my number. Then, I see Carmen's latest post online, gushing about a romantic luxurious dinner with him. After I'm discharged, I cancel the wedding, destroy all the invitations, and finally call my mother. "Mom," I say, "I've made up my mind. I'm ready to meet him."

My younger sister, Lydia Miller, and I are unexpectedly reborn into a beastman tribe, where the Beast God gives us a choice of identity. The first option is to become a beast woman with tremendous strength and a tall, imposing physique. The second option is to become a saintess with the ability to reproduce across species and an alluring, graceful figure. In our previous life, Lydia became a beast woman to survive, while I became the frail saintess. She ended up scorned by the tribe's beastmen for not being feminine enough. Meanwhile, I captured the hearts of the three strongest and most handsome beastmen in the tribe with my delicate frame. I became their most cherished beloved. Eventually, they rose to rule the primeval forest, and I basked in endless glory as their saintess. Driven mad with jealousy, Lydia pushed me into a poison swamp when no one was looking. With my last bit of strength, I plunged a poisonous thorn into her body, and we died together. When I open my eyes again, we're back at the moment when the Beast God asks us to make our choice. This time, Lydia rushes to claim the saintess identity first. "Ella, this time I'll be the saintess. Since I pity you so much, I'll let you have those three defective, impotent beastmen." I bite back the wild joy flooding through me. What's so great about serving as a breeding tool anyway? In a primitive society, strength is everything.