Cavemen Story

After half a month of nonstop overtime, I secured a contract worth over ten million, pulling the company back from the brink of collapse. My boss, Richard Gray, was overjoyed. At the celebration party, he called me the pillar of the company and announced that he would reward me with a bonus. However, when the end of the month came, and I opened my payslip, I froze. Negative 250 dollars. A negative commission? I actually owed the company 250 dollars? I immediately called the finance department, asking if there was a mistake on my payslip. They replied, "No mistake. This is the cost calculation formula that Mr. Gray personally instructed us to use. He said you'd understand once you saw it." I went straight to Richard for an explanation. He laughed. "The contract that you signed, after factoring in the concessions, upfront resources, and hidden expenses, left the company with a net loss of 150 thousand. Since the loss was due to your personal decisions, you're responsible for five percent. That totals to 7500. "Considering how hard you worked, we deducted it from your base salary first. But your salary wasn't enough, so you still owe the company 250. Don't worry. The company treats its employees well. We'll write that off." Soon after, he awarded 100 thousand dollars to the newly arrived intern. I watched the newcomer, probably connected to Richard, cheerfully treat the entire company to dinner with her bonus, and something inside me just snapped. From that day onward, I did the bare minimum. I clocked in. I clocked out. Nothing more. Later, when a critical project went catastrophically wrong and the company faced a colossal compensation demand, Richard came begging me to fix it. I just smiled and said, "Sorry, Mr. Gray. I've already resigned. If there are any problems, you can ask the intern who got the 100 thousand dollar bonus to handle it."

"Forget it, I'll marry him!" The moment Margot Johanson said those words, she suddenly felt a sense of relief. She could hear her parents' voices full of smiles in her ears. "Gigi, we’re glad you’ve made up your mind. Your fiancé may be in a coma, but he’s quite handsome.  “Although he’s been out for years, what if he wakes up? After all, he’s the one set to inherit the family business..." Her parents, trying to persuade their own daughter to marry a comatose man, actually thought she was getting the better deal.  They seemed convinced that no one else in the world would be foolish enough to take on such a situation.  Margot smiled bitterly. "Don’t worry. Since I’ve made up my mind to marry, I won’t back out. I won’t let your precious Maisie take my place."

My fiancee gets drunk the day before our wedding. While I'm taking her home, she mistakes me for my best friend. "Jackson, don't bring our child to the wedding tomorrow. I don't want Samuel to know about us." I slam on the brakes, causing Madelyn Wilkinson to hit the seatback and come to her senses. When she realizes it's me, she freezes for a moment before slowly explaining, "Since you heard that, let's call off the wedding for now. You don't have to worry. Jackson doesn't plan on getting married again. But I'm still that child's mother no matter what, so I need to help out. "Jackson's your best friend. You feel sorry for him if he has to raise a child alone, don't you? I'll marry you after my son starts school." I can't help smiling bitterly. "Alright then… I don't have a problem with that." When we get home, she packs up a suitcase and leaves without another word. Feeling a sting in my eyes, I suppress my emotions as I sit on the couch, falling into a daze. That's when my phone rings at the worst possible moment. My childhood friend, Hazel Parsons, says in a hoarse voice, "Sam, don't marry her. Please." I fall silent for a beat. "Alright."

I have just secured a massive ten-million-dollar deal during the Black Friday Sales. I have endured several days of hectic work, yet I still find myself unable to turn down my girlfriend, Charlotte Ward. We spend the night in passionate abandon and finally fall into a heavy, restful sleep. The next morning, a loud thud jolts me awake. When I open my eyes, I realize that it's my luggage. Charlotte suddenly says, "This is the end for us, Robert. It's time for you to move out. I've already wired the money for your past services, along with your salary. So get going." I find myself caught in a daze and about to move to question her, but she stops me dead, jabbing her fingers into my chest. "Know your place, Robert. You're nothing but a gigolo to me. I might, maybe, let you keep your job in Ward Group if you beg." I almost reach out to grab her wrist but stop myself. Instead, I smile broadly and say, "You've got it all wrong. Your company wouldn't survive without me, Charlotte."

On my first day of being a newlywed, my father-in-law beat my mother-in-law up because of a dish. I tried to stop my father-in-law out of concern for my mother-in-law's life. However, he scolded me for being rude and claimed out loud that subduing others with force was a family tradition. I was thrilled when I saw that my husband was also itching to have a go at me. Hurrah! I could finally unleash the demon inside me!

During a mission overseas, I shielded my younger brother from an explosion—only to wake up months later, my body broken, my mind trapped in the void of a coma. Grateful for my sacrifice, he repaid me by marrying my wife. When I finally clawed my way back to consciousness and rushed home, I found my son kneeling on the ground, sobbing as his college acceptance letter lay shredded in his fists. My nephew loomed over him, slamming a steel pipe into his back. "Lick my shoes clean," he sneered. "Who are you to think you deserve an education?" And there was my wife clapping in delight, dabbing the sweat from my nephew’s brow like a doting servant. "You’re just like your deadbeat father," My wife spat. "Born to be my stepping stone." My eyes bloodshot, I tightened my fists. Every last one of them would pay for this dearly.

On the day of Zephyr’s art exhibition, I saw people stand around a portrait of myself. My cheeks were flushed, and I was bare. My posture was the one we used in bed last week for fun. Zephyr even got the mole on my chest right. As people stared at me mockingly, I demanded, “Why did you do this to me?” He was unbothered. “It’s not as if I asked you to sleep with someone else.” But he did let people see how I looked when I was having an intimate moment with my own boyfriend! “It’s just a painting. Why are you being so petty?” I was stunned by the mockery in Zephyr’s gaze. Then, I called my assistant. “I’m attending the international art festival as the organizer.”

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

On the day I go to the car dealership to pick up my car, I'm told that the previous salesperson has resigned, so a different salesperson will attend to me. Yet the first thing the salesperson does is say that I paid too little for the car and demand that I pay more to make up the difference. "The other salesperson is truly an idiot. How could he sell a car for 300 thousand dollars in cash? It's no wonder he got chewed out and quit. If you want to take the car, you'll have to switch to a five-year loan with an interest rate of 12%." I'm rendered speechless as he blatantly tries to extort me. "I've already paid and signed the sales contract. You're breaching the contract!" The salesperson scoffs. "So what? The car is with us anyway. If you're not going to pay the difference, don't even think of taking the car with you!" I can't help but chuckle. I calmly pull my phone out of my suit pocket. "Walter, place Mr. Paul Roland's loan application on hold for now. He's earning big bucks for his business. It seems like he doesn't need it anymore."

A wealthy heiress from Belvoria’s elite circle asked me to be her dead boyfriend’s substitute. My compensation included a 50,000-dollar base salary, plus 8,000 dollars per shared meal and 10,000 dollars per accompanying shopping trip. My hypocritical older sister quickly stopped me from agreeing to this deal. “We come from a respectable family. How can you sell your dignity for such little money?” Yet she later became a rich man's mistress and successfully married into wealth. Meanwhile, I struggled to balance work and studies to pay for my tuition. This hurt my academic performance. After graduation, I could only find a job with a monthly salary of 3,000 dollars. I even developed a tumor from overworking. I eventually died in a cold and impersonal hospital, unable to afford treatment. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the young heiress asked me to be her dead boyfriend’s substitute. This time, I agreed without hesitation. I was determined to take this role.