Novel & Cerita Workplace Romance

I was the hospital's top surgeon. After three successful surgeries, Medical Affairs decided to reprimand me in front of the whole hospital and canceled my bonus for the month. I argued with the head of Medical Affairs. "I've been working for this place for ten years, and I've always been the first to do everything! I went through five surgeries nonstop last year and had to go through one myself for exhaustion! What did I do to deserve this?" Yes, I was the top surgeon, but the bills were stressing me out, too. My husband had just lost his job, and I had to pay for the car, the mortgage, and our kid's extracurriculars. The burden I had to shoulder wasn't an easy one. So, I was counting on that bonus to get my kid into a basketball club, and now it had been taken away from me. This couldn't be happening! I couldn't believe that they were blaming me for a successful surgery! I was high up in the hierarchy here, so the department head didn't start a fallout right away. Instead, he tried to calm me down. "You drank two bags of IV during the late-night surgery and charged the patients for it. Their family's complaining about unfair fees, and it went viral. We had no choice!" That reminded me. That surgery was a complex one, and it wasn't even supposed to be assigned to me. After all, I'd been working around the operating table for 36 hours prior to that. However, it was the deputy director who came to me and insisted that I take over. I had no choice but to go ahead.

Outside the police tape surrounding a fancy hotel, a police officer can be seen blocking my way. "There seems to be a bomb hidden in the hotel! Unauthorized personnel are not allowed to get any closer!" I'm just about to dig out my work badge when the intern next to me, Christine Wyatt, covers her mouth in a pretentiously shocked manner. "Officer, there's a detonator and a timer in his bag! Those things look so scary!" The entire scene goes eerily silent. Almost immediately, I see a few guns getting aimed at my forehead. Anxiety begins overwhelming me. "I'm a bomb disposal expert from the Headquarters Explosive Ordnance Disposal Unit! My bag contains all the tools necessary to dispose of a bomb!" "Throw your bag over to me and keep your hands where I can see them!" Captain Scott Hunter roars at me. My bag is opened afterward. Things like an insulated cutter, a bomb suppression blanket, and a liquid nitrogen cooling tank are scattered across the ground. Before I can explain myself, Christine suddenly points at me while screaming, "Why are you still playing dumb? You just told me that you wanted to set off an explosion in that hotel! "What, now that the police are here, you dare not admit what you just said, huh? You're a terrorist through and through!" Scott reacts quickly by pinning me on the hood of the police cruiser with my hands folded behind my back. "We're taking you back for a thorough interrogation!" My heart almost stops at those words. The bomb that's packed with enough firepower to take out half a street has already gone on a countdown in the hotel lobby. But I, the only bomb disposal expert who can get rid of the bomb, have handcuffs put on me because of Christine's nonsensical accusations. Right now, there are only 29 minutes left before the bomb goes off.

A post accusing me of feeding my employees free lunches worse than pig feed goes viral online. However, none of them know that the daily free lunches are all catered from a five-star hotel at 100 dollars per head. The entire internet goes crazy, calling me names and accusing me of being an evil boss. Even my co-founder, Dustin Jager, texts me and says, "Maybe we should go with what the employees want and change it to a meal allowance plan instead." I harden my heart and send out a company-wide announcement. "In response to everyone's pursuit of healthy eating and the right to choose their own lunches, the company has decided to discontinue the free lunch program. "A meal reimbursement plan will be introduced instead, effective immediately, with a daily limit of 20 dollars per person per day. All reimbursements will be calculated at the end of the month with the presentation of valid receipts." As soon as the announcement is made, the company's chat groups immediately go berserk.

I happen to come across a popular post regarding a company's finance department on social media. "Seriously, that person in the sales department is such an idiot! All I wanted was to claim reimbursement under her name for the bag I bought, and yet she still refused! "Since she doesn't want me to reimburse my bag, then she can forget about reimbursing everything! This time, I'll teach her a lesson about what happens when she offends a member of the finance department!" There are many bashing comments in the comment section, but the original poster doesn't care at all. She continues adopting a haughty tone. "What am I scared of? The finance department is extremely vital to the company! I refuse to believe that the boss has the courage to offend me, the most important person alive, just to stand up for a sales employee who's easily replaceable!" As I stare at the familiar profile picture belonging to the original poster, I can't help but mentally sneer. She wants to suspend all of my reimbursements, huh? Go ahead, then! This time, I'd like to see what the consequences are for offending a member of the finance department!

I was a retired mercenary. A middle-aged man like me, without any ‘proper’ skills, could only work as a stockkeeper at a private company. On my first day at work, the warehouse lost an important item, and I was accused of stealing it. My new colleagues scoffed. "Hand over what you stole, you penniless loser! This warehouse hasn't lost anything for eight years. If you hand over the stolen item, we'll submit an appeal letter on your behalf when you get arrested by the police." I stepped forward to look at a mark left behind in the corner. "I can find what was stolen." The entire warehouse fell silent. When my boss arrived after hearing the news, he scrutinized me condescendingly. "If you can find the stolen item, I'll give you half of the company shares. If you fail, you'll have to pay with your life!"

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart bound herself to a transfer system: everything she ate would be redirected straight into my stomach. She opened a streaming account and broadcast herself eating for twelve hours straight. She earned a fortune. Meanwhile, I collapsed with acute pancreatitis and was rushed to the hospital. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he only stared at me like I was insane. "How could something that absurd exist? If food could really be transferred, no one in the world would ever starve. You're just jealous that she's making money from streaming." After that, every time his childhood sweetheart went live, I ended up hospitalized again. I kept hovering between life and death. I sought medical help, but the doctors couldn't explain my condition. Some even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, in order to outdo her rivals in a PK match, she devoured ten pounds of rice in a single sitting. At that very moment, my spleen and stomach ruptured, and I bled to death on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of her very first livestream. This time, I was prepared. I rushed out and bought twenty takeout meals. "This time," I said, "I'll eat first."

The company holds a management meeting. My wife's secretary, Lisa Carter, is checking IDs at the conference room entrance. She greets everyone who enters with a warm smile. But when it is my turn, she lets out a scornful laugh. I frown and pull out my Cybersecurity Department Manager's ID, but she doesn't even glance at it. "Mr. Torres, Ms. Shaw took pity on you and made you a manager. Do you really think you're somebody important?" I ignore her and dial the CEO's direct line instead. "Someone's saying my position is just charity from you. Is it true?"

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.

First day back in the office. I was face down at my desk during lunch when the desk next to mine started rattling under a series of hard knocks. I looked up. It was the firm's new architect, Flora Reeves. "Lunch time ended five minutes ago. You're still asleep at your desk? Don't bother coming in tomorrow. You're fired!" I told her I had just come back from a client meeting. I had been pulling all-nighters on the project for a week. She looked at me like I was something on her shoe. "All you do is take clients out, drink with them, and scribble a few sketches. "You don't even punch in. You're barely in the office. What gives you the right to nap at your desk during work hours?" I almost laughed in her face! I was the firm's chief architect. The bulk of the projects on Walsh & Co.'s books had my name on them. The firm's success was, frankly, carried by me. She saw me out of the office most days. She did not see me in another city, on another job site, talking down another client. And in our industry, most of those clients had hired Walsh & Co. because of my name and reputation. I kept my composure. "You're not in HR. On what authority are you firing me?" She said, "On the authority that my husband is the president of this company." I went still. When did my boyfriend get married?

By chance, I stumbled across a trending post from our company's finance department while scrolling through social media. "That idiot in Sales. I just wanted to put my bar receipt under his name for reimbursement and he refused! If he won't let me claim it, then no one gets reimbursed! This time I'll make sure he learns what happens when you offend Finance!" The comments section was full of complaints and criticism, but the original poster didn't seem bothered in the slightest. The tone was arrogant, almost smug. "What's there to be scared of? Finance is the lifeline of any company! Would the boss really risk offending the backbone of the company over some replaceable sales guy? No way that's ever happening!" I stared at the all-too-familiar face in the profile picture and let out a silent, cold laugh. Blocking my reimbursement? Fine. This time, I'd like to see for myself what would actually happen if I mess with Finance.