The Mastery Manual

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

Amanda's world fell apart with just one inquiry during the silence of betrayal. "Did you receive the letter that came in this morning at your office?" Dickson's charge seemed weighty and unassailable as it lingered in the air. A storm that threatened to drown the promises of a lifetime had arrived in the form of the terrible divorce letter. Amanda's heart stumbled beneath the weight of broken vows as Dickson's icy words reverberated. She begged, her voice sour, "You promised me..." Unshed tears clouded her vision, and disappointment loomed over her, threatening to crush her. Dickson, however, remained unaffected and branded their union a sham. Amanda's fate had been decided by Amelia's reappearance. Amanda began to doubt the genuineness of the years she had spent in a loveless marriage once the discovery came upon her like a cold wave. "You're getting a divorce because she came back? Are we nothing more than a joke to you?" His reply was more incisive and exposed a fact Amanda hadn't dared to confront. She served as a pawn or stand-in in a game of family dynasty. "You were not the spouse I desired... I won't make the same error now that she's back." Dickson's scathing remarks highlighted the hollowness of their relationship as well as the wounds caused by unmet expectations. When Amanda experienced heartbreak, she was given a stern choice: sign the paperwork or go with a price tag on her value. Amanda was left to sift through the ruins of a marriage that was founded on dishonesty and unspoken wishes because Dickson's mastery of cruel words had reached its zenith. As Amanda debated whether to let go or fight for the love she thought was once genuine, the sour taste of betrayal persisted.

After I join a new company, I keep running into problems—not from people, but from the company's equipment. The fingerprint scanner fails to recognize me every single time, and I have to submit a manual attendance appeal almost daily. When I ask the admin to change the device, they respond with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Everyone else clocks in just fine. Why are you the only one with so many issues?" The air vent above my desk blasts cold air directly at me. My hands and feet are freezing every day. I ask to switch seats. My manager looks at me like I am making things up. "Everyone else sits there without a problem. How come the AC only blows cold air when you sit there?" One strange incident after another makes it impossible for me to function at work. When I get home, I complain to my boyfriend and say I want to quit. He shuts down the thought immediately. "You're making almost 60 thousand dollars a year before benefits, with weekends off and paid leave. Where are you going to find a job like that?" I think about it and realize he isn't wrong. Just as I decide to stick it out, the company elevator malfunctions. I fall from the 33rd floor and die. In my final moments, I can't understand it—why does every piece of equipment in the company seem to target me alone? All the devices are newly installed. All my coworkers are people I have just met. I have no grudges with anyone. There's no reason for someone to sabotage me from behind the scenes. When I open my eyes again, I am back at the company. It's my very first day on the job.