Skiving Snack Box Novels & Stories

For snacking in the office during overtime, I was fined 600,000 dollars by my manager! She was extremely furious as she pointed at me. “Taylor, don’t be so arrogant just because you’ve secured a deal! “You should be working in the office. Go home if you want to eat! “You’re violating company rules. No snacking during working hours! You should be punished since you’re aware of that rule! “You won’t be getting the 600,000-dollar commission from this deal!” I looked at her and said indifferently, “Suit yourself.” Then, I decided to slack. She could not stand it.

Renata has three problems: a sick mother, an unpaid rent notice, and a dream she refuses to let die. A self-taught boxer with raw talent and no formal backing, Renata has been training in secret for months with one goal in mind — winning the city's most prestigious boxing tournament and using the prize money to keep her family from losing everything. The only problem is that Coach Peterston won't let her near the roster. She's a girl, she's untrained on paper, and the rules aren't built for someone like her. When her best friend Edwina reveals that Drent Ardent — the legendary boxer behind the tournament and the most magnetic man in the city — is quietly in town ahead of the finals, Renata sees her only opening. She doesn't expect Drent to see through her in under two minutes. She especially doesn't expect him to be that beautiful. Drent Ardent has everything the world can see and nothing he actually wants. The heir to his family's boxing empire, he's been handed an ultimatum by his father's board — produce a visible, credible relationship before the year ends or forfeit his inheritance. He has come to this city to breathe, to escape the suffocation of expectation, and to run a tournament that was supposed to be simple. Drawn to her in a way he can't explain and unwilling to examine too closely, Drent makes Renata an offer she has every reason to refuse. What begins as a clean transaction between two people who need something from each other refuses to stay clean. Drent is used to wanting things and acquiring them. Renata is used to surviving and nothing else. One year. One deal. One fight that will change both of their lives.

I've placed a no-limit bid just so I can buy Eloise Kane, the best underground boxer, from an underground boxing ring. Without even sparing me a proper glance, she's already naming her conditions with a sneer on her face. Apparently, she wants a deluxe apartment that's located in the heart of the city, a monthly allowance of ten million dollars, and most importantly, I mustn't interfere with her social circle. Everyone thinks I've gone nuts for buying myself a mistress just so I can cater to her whims and needs. But I don't mind at all. I just point at her left chest and tell her, "Just maintain a regular lifestyle. Don't let anything happen to your heart." I even go so far as to offend the heiress of the most prominent family in the elite society in order to defend Eloise. That is, until I heard Eloise gets stabbed for her jealous antics in a bar. By the time I arrive at the private room, I see her embracing a male escort while laughing at the top of her lungs. "Oh, I'm the one who hired someone to hit his sister with a car! It's best if she dies, though! That way, his assets will be mine! "Besides, he's just an idiot whose only purpose is to give me money! Who does he think he is, anyway?" Amid the eerie silence, I snatch up a wine bottle and smash it into Eloise's head. Then, I slam her head into the pile of blood-stained glass shards. After that, I dial the hospital's number. "Her heart is in top shape, and it's a perfect match. Tonight, you can wheel my sister into the emergency room. Time to prep for the heart transplant surgery."

I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves." In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed. Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave. Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope. She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.

My boyfriend, Karl Boone, was one of the adopted sons my father took in. Before he left, he vowed solemnly, "If I lose this battle, I'm not worthy of marrying you. And if I win, I'll rent out Disneyland and throw a grand wedding for you." I tore up all the marriage contracts from the local noble heirs and waited for him for two full years. But when he returned, he knelt before my father, with a pregnant woman hiding behind him. "I'll sacrifice everything I gained overseas to marry Karen," he said, shielding the woman. "She's innocent and fragile, having suffered through hardships in the slums. She's not like Tabitha, who has had everything from birth." My father's gaze swept over me, and the entire room fell silent. Everyone knew that when I lost my temper, I could tear down the house and make them pay dearly. But instead, I greeted the woman with a sweet smile. "Hi there." That night, I closed my eyes and picked one of the blind boxes containing names of potential suitors. As luck would have it, I picked Karl's arch-enemy. On our wedding day, Karl barged in wearing a bomb strapped to his body. "Tabitha, if you dare marry him, we'll die together!"

The ambulance that's carting a pregnant woman is currently racing down the highway. The pregnant woman's water has already broken, which means she's in a dire situation right now. As I clutch the steering wheel tightly, I make sure to press the gas pedal all the way to the maximum. But the hospital director, Corey Johnston, who has tagged along for the ride, suddenly issues an order. "Pull up at the rest stop ahead." I'm momentarily stunned by the order. But I soon protest anxiously, "The patient can't afford to wait at all! She and her baby might die anytime soon!" Corey merely waves a hand impatiently. "Who's the one calling the shots here—me or you? I've been dabbling in the medical world for 30 years! As if a driver like you know better than me!" Thinking that Corey needs to go to the bathroom urgently, I soon park at the rest stop. But I witness him strolling into a supermarket leisurely, only to come out with two huge bags of snacks a long time later. "I bought my daughter the local specialities. She loves snacks like these the most." As Corey speaks, he tosses the snacks and his phone onto the front passenger seat. His phone screen flickers to life due to an accidental contact, which reveals the wallpaper of the lock screen. It's a photo of Corey and his daughter. I frown at the sight as my breath hitches in my throat. Why do I have a feeling that Corey's daughter looks quite similar to the pregnant woman in the ambulance right now?

My husband had a bizarre obsession with role-playing. In every scenario he invented, I was always the devoted wife he eventually cast aside. One day, he became the ruthless CEO who fell for the nanny; the next, he turned into a respected professor who could not resist his students. Each time he handed me a divorce agreement, watched me sign it through tears, and then tore the papers to shreds the following morning with a satisfied grin. "It's just a game, babe." That changed when my mom was in a catastrophic car accident and needed 200,000 dollars for emergency surgery. Deep in character as a penniless failure, he said, "I'm flat broke. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money for your mom?" I watched my mother take her last breath because we couldn't pay the bill. On the day of her funeral, he arrived with a pretty college student on his arm. "I've fallen in love with one of my students. It's time we get divorced." He pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed me the agreement. This time, I didn't wait for him to rip it up.

After dying suddenly from overwork, I found myself transmigrated into the life of a fake heiress who had been cast out of her wealthy family. While the real heiress reclaimed the life that had once been mine, I decided to leave the drama behind. Armed with my savings, I embraced a carefree lifestyle, swapping boyfriends every three days and living for the moment. Then, two months later, life hit me with a curveball—I discovered I was pregnant. The problem? I had no idea who the father was. With no choice, I approached the three powerful CEOs I had been involved with, each more arrogant and competitive than the last. What followed was a 10-billion-dollar bet by each of the three over who the father might be, with me caught in the middle. "I bet the baby belongs to all three of you," I teased, only for them to roll their eyes and dismiss me as ridiculous. Even so, when I gave birth to triplets, their argument outside the delivery room went viral, sending the internet into a frenzy and turning my life—and theirs—into a spectacle.

When I received two distinct fingers in a small box with no return label in my P.O box, revenge was my only source of finality, as my own life was on a time limit. Cracking down on the killers was my only thought, even if it was, my last.

I’d just left a creative meeting when a TikTok video popped up on my feed, slamming my company. The title: "Stay Away! This Austin startup is incredibly cheap. The perks are a joke." The video showed off the pour-over coffee from Austin's hottest independent cafe and pastries from a top-tier French bakery. The same ones I’d just had my assistant, Sam, hand out. I frowned. In the company's Slack channel, I tagged everyone. "@here Any suggestions for this afternoon's Happy Hour?" Leo, the new Gen-Z intern, replied instantly with a voice note. “Asher, with all due respect, these snacks with gluten and dairy are so unhealthy.” “A truly visionary company would hire a private chef to customize raw, vegan bites for everyone's dietary needs. That's what respect looks like.” I laughed. It was an angry laugh. The company's daily snack budget was $25 per person. For an Austin startup, that was top of the line. I typed back: "Since it's impossible to please everyone, the snack perk is canceled. I'll convert the budget into a cash bonus for all of you." Less than five minutes later, the TikTok caption was updated. "UPDATE: Y'all, I can't make this up. I made a suggestion about dietary inclusivity, and my toxic boss just canceled all the perks! This is how toxic bosses act. Can't handle a single piece of feedback!"