Trish Guess Who Got A Job Novels & Stories

They bullied her… till she died. Adeline had life rough as a kid. The people who were supposed to be family treated her like trash, like she didn’t exist . Now they managed to get rid of her, or so they think … She is in a form they will never recognize planning her just revenge. The only problem being that the mate of the woman she is pretending to be is starting to suspect her. And he is not a nice guy .

My boyfriend did not like my big chest. He gave me five hundred thousand dollars to go for a breast reduction surgery. At the same time, a mystery man suddenly transferred me five million dollars with a note telling me not to listen to my boyfriend. I gripped my phone tightly and secretly replied to my boyfriend’s best friend’s text message. [If you want me to listen to you, money is not enough.] He immediately texted back. [What are you saying? I don’t understand.] I replied. [Forget about it. I’m heading to the hospital now.] As expected, he got anxious. [What else do you want?] [Do you have 7 inches?] [I have 10 inches.] [I won’t believe you until I see it for myself.] After that, he proved it to me through his actions.

My husband—one of the top elites of Raventon Street, cold and ruthless to his core—keeps a stray orphan girl he rescued from the slums hidden in an apartment. Rowena Fletcher is clean and fragile, like a newborn creature untouched by the world. And somehow, that innocence softens something in Micah Benson—a man who's spent years clawing his way through the brutal wilderness of capital. He thinks this secret game of his goes unnoticed, but I find out anyway. At the Benson family's charity gala, I smash his favorite antique vase in front of everyone. He doesn't even flinch as he simply signals the bodyguards to clean up the mess and then hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, Sabrina. The penthouse in Ashbourne City is yours." I burn the divorce agreement—and that's when he finally shows his true colors. He freezes all my accounts and launches a hostile takeover of my gallery. On the night the storm hits, I get a call from the hospital. My sister, Roberta Slater, has been in a car crash—she needs emergency surgery. In the security footage, he stood there, watching coldly. "Sign the papers, or start planning a funeral." I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor, blood trailing down my face as I begged, "Micah, please… don't…" A long, flat beep echoed from the other end of the line, slicing through the sound of rain. Then a voice on the line says, "We did everything we could." However, I have gone back in time—to the day I first found out about Rowena. This time, I no longer cry. Instead, I plan my divorce on my own terms. I call Valebrook Bank that same night and begin preparing for a quiet disappearance. But the moment I truly vanish from his world, Micah loses his mind.

"Who are you?" My fated mate held a silver blade to my throat, looking at me with the eyes of a stranger. Four years ago, a witch erased me from Alpha Nash’s mind and rewrote his reality. To him, I am dead, and another woman wears the Luna crown. I returned to the pack not to reclaim my title, but to save my son. Nash sees me as a filthy rogue. He tortures me. He scorns me. He has no idea that the secret I’m hiding in the shadows is his own flesh and blood—a son with magic powerful enough to bring the world to its knees. The curse breaks with a single touch. But with a dark witch hunting my child for a deadly ritual, and Nash’s memories buried under a mountain of hate, time is running out. If he doesn't remember me soon, he will be the one to kill us both.

He asked me to take everything. Every kiss. Every fight. Every quiet morning he ever let himself be soft with me. Every single memory of the five years we spent loving each other in secret. He said it was the only way to keep me safe. That if he walked into the enemy’s camp knowing he had a mate, they would use me to destroy him. So he asked me to hold his memories inside me, like I was a box he could trust, and he promised he would come back for them in six months. That was five years ago. Caius is home now. But he doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember any of it. And the worst part? He is falling in love with me all over again, slowly, the way he did the first time, and I am standing here with all of him inside my head, watching him meet me like a stranger. I know every single thing about him. His nightmares. The way he takes his coffee. The scar on his ribcage from the night he almost died protecting me. The exact words he said when he first told me he loved me. He knows nothing about me. And now the people he spent five years hunting are closing in, the mission is falling apart, and the only way to save him is to give him back everything he asked me to take. But if I do that, he will remember everything they did to me while he was gone. And the Caius who remembers is not the kind of man who lets things go.

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

Bored of having nothing to do at home, I hide my identity and apply for a job as a designer at the company my son, Jonathan Grady, runs. A few months later, I'm informed that the company wants to optimize its workforce, and I'm the first to get axed. "Why?" "Because you're menopausal. You can't get pregnant." Hearing that makes me scoff. What kind of absurd reason is that? "A designer uses her brains to do her job, no? When did a womb become so important?" I point at Sasha Johnson, who'd been hired before me and was now sitting at her desk, snacking on popcorn instead of working. "Her line compositions are still a complete mess, and she spends all of her time watching TV shows in the office. But just because she's pregnant, she's not included in the company's layoffs?" Fiona Lewis, the HR manager, looks at me as though I'm an idiot. "How can an old hag like you, who still has to work, compare yourself to her? She's pregnant with the boss' baby, you know. She's the future Mrs. Grady! The money we save from having to pay your salary can go toward buying her prenatal supplements." I freeze in shock. Did my son knock up one of his employees? But he told me he didn't want to have any kids!

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office. Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside. A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety. "Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel." Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery. "Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime." She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I? My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years. The girl beamed, radiant. "For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one." I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father. "Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."

During the award ceremony at our annual dinner, my boss, Hank Reid, suddenly announced an impromptu addition to the agenda. “Annual department competition! The department that ranked last has to come up and receive a little award of motivation!” The screen lit up. They scrolled through all the departments’ results. The sales department got first place, the operations department got second place, and the marketing department got third place. However, there was nothing from the administration department. That was because the administration department did not have KPIs. Hank smiled at us. “Let’s welcome our colleagues from the administration department to come up and receive their awards!” Two of my colleagues carried a whole basket of brooms onto the stage. Everyone was laughing. “You should sweep away your bad luck from last year. Let’s hope you won’t get last place again next year!” Hank personally passed the brooms to all of us. Cameras flashed as people took photos of us with their phones. The sales department was laughing the loudest. “Finally, the administration department has some recognition!”

Ezra’s never been wanted. An omega with no pack, no rank, and a mouth that gets him in trouble, he’s spent most of his life just trying to stay invisible. In a world where alphas rule and omegas are expected to kneel, Ezra has learned one thing: keep your head down, and maybe you’ll survive. Then Kael chose him. Kael—powerful, cursed, and heir to a crumbling legacy—was supposed to pick the perfect mate. Someone noble. Obedient. Safe. But under the moonlight, in front of the entire shifter council, he broke every law and claimed Ezra—the outcast nobody. Now Ezra’s caught in a bond he never asked for, tethered to an alpha who’s barely holding back the monster inside him. Their connection is dangerous. Their enemies are gathering. And as Ezra starts to feel something real for Kael… He can’t help but wonder: What if the wolf who chose him is the one who will destroy him?