Psychological Realism

I was the real son of the Lane family, lost and left outside for 27 years. A year after I was brought back, I helped the Lane family’s company break into overseas markets, tripling its annual sales. However, at the end of the year, even the outsourced janitors got a 13th-month bonus, while the fake heir gave me just 250 dollars. “The company made money, sure, but there are expenses everywhere. You’re just a low-level salesperson. All you do is talk. You should be grateful you got that much.” I could not swallow it, so I went to argue with my biological sister, the general manager. She did not even look up. “Clive didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have much education and no core skills. You were never qualified for management bonuses.” My parents did not care either. They were too busy planning which country to take the fake heir to for the holidays. I did not argue or make a scene. I just turned around and called Lane Corporation’s biggest rival. “A salesperson who brought in 30 million dollars in the last year is looking to jump ship. Interested? I don’t have any other demands. I just want to see Lewis Corporation go under as soon as possible!”

Drenched in mud, I've just climbed down the scaffolding and started munching on a cold piece of stale bread when a luxury car speeds past me, effectively drenching me in muddy water. The car window on the driver's side is quickly lowered. A sleazy guy hurls a pack of cigarettes in my face the next moment. "Hey, peasant! This is a reward for you! I got really lucky today, after all!" While I pick up the cigarette pack silently, the man happens to be boasting loudly to the woman sitting in the front passenger seat. "My brother-in-law really is an idiot! He seriously thinks that my sister has a terminal disease! He went to the black market last night night just to sell his blood in exchange for 200 thousand dollars' worth of surgical fees! I end up winning double in the casino with that money of his! "My sister told me that once that idiot gets his hands on the work injury compensation, she'll divorce him right away and buy me a new home!" I grip the bread so hard that it crumples in my hand. After all, my wife, Estella Wilson, was just diagnosed with "late-stage stomach cancer" yesterday. Suddenly, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. It's a voice message from Estella. "Hubby, it hurts so much going through the chemotherapy! The doctor told me that I'd be eligible for better medication if we could cough up another 200 thousand dollars. Can you please plead to the foreman and borrow some money from him?"

I am the long-lost true heir of the Kensington family. In just the second month after reconciling with the Kensington family, I solved a technical problem that the Kensington Corp's Military Research Institute had failed to crack for five whole years. Yet, my adoptive brother, Sean Kensington, the fake heir, exchanged my patent bonus worth millions for a 20-percent-off coupon for a cup of latte. I went to my older sister, Sonya, the CEO, but she simply waved her hand dismissively, completely unconcerned. "Enough, Wesley. Sean just did it for your own good. If you're holding onto that much money, what if some organization set their eyes on you? This way, your safety is protected. "Besides, you've only come to the city not long ago. I doubt you've ever had something like a latte before. Take it as a chance to experience it. I'll even give you another ten dollars. You can buy yourself another cup." I looked at the condescension in her eyes, planning to send the recording to our parents. Yet, I saw on their social media that they had just bought a seaside mansion and a luxury car as a celebration gift for Sean's achievements. Then, I glanced at the coupon they had just sent me. [You did help Sean after all. Your father and I bought you a cake as a reward. Go pick it up yourself.] I checked the price. After discount, it was a mere 13 bucks. They had to be kidding me. I directly dialed the number of Kensington Corp's rival company, Jet Group. "I think the exclusive patent for this new missile should be yours. From now on, all my research results will only be shared with Jet Group."

The newly-appointed leader, Eileen Shaffer, fantasizes herself as a queen. Because of that, she treats me like her personal maid. On her first day at work, Eileen sends me a list consisting of 16 workplace rules. Not only does she request that I prepare warm water that must be proven to be 113 degrees Fahrenheit by a thermometer every day, but she also wants me to prepare three meals per day for her. I'm not allowed to order takeout. Those meals must be cooked and prepared by me so that the food is safe and clean to eat. Finally, shit hits the fan at the Thanksgiving holidays. Eileen has the nerve to call me 18 times at 2:00 am just so I can leave a like on her son's video. Unable to tolerate her antics anymore, I slap her on the spot. "I'm the daughter of this company's CEO, and yet I have to slave away at work every day! Do you seriously think you're an actual queen now?"

At the company's annual meeting, my promotion opportunity goes to an intern instead. I confront Mitchell Wilson, a manager, only to be publicly humiliated. "The industry is in a slump, yet you have the best sales performance in the entire company. Who knows how you get your clients?" I drank until my stomach bled and ended up in the hospital in the middle of the night. I have forced a smile while serving arrogant, sleazy executives. Yet, none of that feels as humiliating as this moment. My ex-boyfriend looks at me gloatingly while holding the intern's hand as they plan a celebration party. Before leaving, he mocks me, "Yvette is the Saccone Group heiress. Once her evaluation period ends, she will go back to inherit the company. Who do you think you are?" I frown in confusion—I am the Saccone Group heiress.

I lead my team to develop a new drug formula that passed its first clinical trial. It becomes the key to the company's IPO. So, the board votes unanimously to award me an additional 5% in shares. But at the celebration party, my shares turn into three hams. I assume it is a prank by my colleagues. But to my surprise, Draco Faraday looks at me with disgust and says, "Don't think I don't know. You used your position as team leader to assign all the experimentation to Avery. Then, you take the credit for the results. This reward should go to her. As for you, you should be satisfied with the ham!" Seeing Avery Blake looking both flattered and overwhelmed, I am rendered speechless. I argue, "Avery is an art major. Does she even understand chemical formulas?" Draco's expression darkens. "Cross-disciplinary expertise is her strength, not a weakness. I won't argue with you this time. If it happens again, I'll fire you!” When I try to defend myself, he snaps, "Starting today, Avery is the team leader. You should get a taste of how it feels to be exploited." I look at him in disbelief for a moment before nodding forcefully with a sneer. "Fine. From now on, I won't assist if the projects run into any issues. Don't regret it." Draco looks at Avery approvingly."The only thing I regret is not making Avery the person in charge sooner."

Peggy Flannery, the new recruit who's being mentored by my husband, Eugene Shaw, insists on practicing how to carve words onto a patient's heart. It so happens that my mother-in-law has suffered from a sudden heart attack. So, I quickly take her to the hospital so that Eugene, who's also known as a genius surgeon, can save her life. Unbeknownst to me, Eugene is quick to entrust my mother-in-law to Peggy, who has barely joined the hospital for three days, so that she can practice her carving on her. Peggy is very careless with her strength. When she's in the middle of carving something onto my mother-in-law's heart, she accidentally punctures a heart valve, resulting in my mother-in-law's instant death. Once the death happens, Peggy wails to Eugene, "That hag is really frail and delicate! I'm not even done carving my name onto her heart! What should I do now?" Eugene wipes her tears away gently. There's heartbreak in his eyes as he says, "It's fine. No one will be able to bully you with me around." Once Eugene exits the operating theater, he declares that the surgery is a failure and that I should start preparing the funeral matters. Unable to accept reality, I grab him by the shoulders and keep questioning him. "Isn't this just a minimally invasive surgery? How did Mom die just like that? I want to see the surgical footage!" But Eugene responds by slapping me angrily. "Your mom is already old, to begin with! How dare you pin the blame on others when her frail and weak body is the main cause of her death! I haven't even begun to settle the score with you for giving Peggy such a huge fright! "Hurry up and sign the letter of forgiveness! If this incident does affect Peggy in any way, I'll file for a divorce right away!" Needless to say, I'm so furious that I can't even utter a single word after hearing Eugene's shameless words. Does he seriously think that my mother is the one who's dead? I merely chuckle icily in return. "Honestly speaking, you have more right to sign the letter of forgiveness than I do."

At the five-star hotel where the blind date was set, leftover takeout was complimentary. I liked their Australian lobster and Poule de Bresse en Vessie. I packed my own portion and even helped box up what my date hadn't finished. Just as I picked up the bags to leave, he grabbed me with a dark look and demanded, "Jennifer, we agreed to split the bill. What gives you the right to take all the food?" I explained that he wouldn't be able to finish it anyway, and if we didn't take it, it would just be thrown away. He let out a cold laugh. "I paid for that food. Even if I toss it, that's none of your concern. Looks to me like you've been waiting for a chance to take advantage. I didn't expect you to be this kind of person. "I'd rather feed these leftovers to a dog than give them to you! And don't bother contacting me again. That petty, small-minded behavior of yours is disgusting." I pressed my lips together, at a complete loss for words. After all… this five-star hotel belonged to my family.

Devan Williams, the richest man in the country, gets shot by an assailant when he's giving a speech. He's quickly sent to the hospital I work at to undergo a heart transplant surgery. But my girlfriend, Katie Wilder, insists that her childhood friend, Luke Rivera, has to become Devan's primary doctor. She even takes off Devan's oxygen mask just to coerce me into handing the position over. "Ashton Howard, if you don't get out of here once I count to three, you'll be facing imprisonment due to medicinal malpractice!" As I look at Devan, whose face has gone horribly crimson due to asphyxiation, all I feel is a strong sense of ridicule. So, I call the hospital's security guards on Katie and Luke with the intention to have them dragged out. But the security captain, Jason Wilder, is actually Katie's younger brother who relied on her just to get his hands on this job. He has me pinned on the floor instead. "From the way I see it, you're the criminal who wants Devan dead! Be honest with me; did you sneak into this hospital just so you can kill him behind everyone's backs?" I can't help but struggle against Jason. But that's when Luke tramples all over my fingers, causing them to fracture. At that moment, the vitals monitor begins beeping shrilly. I lift my head to glare at the culprits. "All of you can never escape your fate!"

When my sister, Cindy Saddler, and I perform our gymnastics routine, we both slip up. My spine snaps as I hit the ground. The pain makes my face go completely pale, and my life is hanging by a thread. But my mother and spotter, Cordelia Saddler, pushes me away in annoyance. "This isn't the time for you to fight with your sister for my attention. She's twisted her ankle! Go die if you want to die. Don't bother me!" Later, I die due to complications in the hospital, as she wishes. But after she finds out I'm dead, she goes crazy.