At 35, I wasn’t looking for love. My life was simple—work, quiet nights at my small apartment, and Hemingway, my lazy cat who seemed to be the only living thing that cared about me. After my ex, David, left me for his college sweetheart, I locked my heart away and focused only on my job at the publishing company.
Six years of early mornings, late nights, and staying under the radar had earned me the senior editor position. But that was it. No romance, no excitement—just the steady hum of routine.
Then came Nathan.
Nathan was my boss. He had that kind of presence you notice even if you don’t want to. His corner office had glass walls with a stunning view of the city skyline, and his salt-and-pepper hair somehow made him look even more handsome. When he smiled, the whole room seemed to light up.
“Amy,” he’d say, leaning casually against my office door frame at 5:30 p.m., his jacket slung over one shoulder. “Burning the midnight oil again?”
I’d push my glasses up my nose and try not to let my heart race. “Just finishing up.”
“You work too hard. Don’t forget to have a life,” he’d say, his eyes lingering just a moment longer than they should.
Nathan had everything—success, confidence, and Priscilla, his elegant wife who floated through the office in designer dresses that probably cost more than my rent. I wasn’t going to be that cliché: the single woman falling for her married boss. I shoved those feelings deep down and convinced myself they weren’t real.
But one night, everything changed.
“Can I close this door?” Nathan asked, standing in my office doorway, looking exhausted. It was well past six, and the office was empty.
“Sure.” I saved my work and looked up. “Is everything okay?”
He sank into the chair across from me, rubbing his face with his hands. “Not really. Priscilla’s leaving me.”
My heart jumped unexpectedly, and I hated myself for it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s been coming for a long time. We’ve been living separate lives under the same roof for months.”
He looked at me with tired eyes. “You know what she said? That I care more about this company than our marriage.”
“That’s not fair,” I said softly. “You’ve built something amazing here.”
“Have I?” His eyes locked on mine, making it hard to breathe. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m running in place.”
We talked for hours, sharing stories, fears, and regrets, until the cleaning crew began their rounds. Something shifted between us that night—something unspoken but real.
“Thanks for listening, Amy,” he said, squeezing my hands gently. “You’re special. I don’t know why I never saw it before.”
I should have been smarter. But when Nathan started stopping by more often, bringing me coffee from that fancy café around the corner, asking about my thoughts on things beyond work—I let myself believe.
Three weeks later, he asked me to dinner.
“Just colleagues,” he said with a smile that said otherwise. “I could use some company.”
One dinner turned into two, then three. By the fourth, his hand found mine across the table.
“I’m falling for you, Amy,” he confessed. “And it scares me.”
My heart pounded. “What about Priscilla?”
“We’re filing for divorce next month. It’s over.”
A month passed, and Nathan didn’t hide us anymore. His hand brushed mine during meetings, and he included me in executive discussions. Everyone noticed.
Melissa from accounting cornered me one day. “So… you and Nathan, huh?”
I kept my eyes on the coffee machine. “We’re seeing each other.”
“Bold move,” she said with a smirk. “Dating the boss, especially when the divorce isn’t final.”
I wanted to tell her it wasn’t like that. We connected over books, dreams, and fears. When he talked about the future, I was in it.
One night, tangled in his sheets in his sleek downtown apartment, Nathan said, “Move in with me. Just for a while. See how it feels.”
“Are you sure?”
“Never been more sure.”
For two weeks, it was perfect.
He made breakfast, we planned weekends and trips, and even talked about kids like it was a done deal.
“I’ve never felt this before,” Nathan whispered one night, stroking my hair. “With Priscilla, everything was so cold. This feels real.”
God, I believed him.
Then came the call.
I was at my desk when Nathan’s voice came over the phone, distant and strange. “Can you come up to my office?”
He stood by the window, eyes distant.
“What’s wrong?”
He turned slowly. “Priscilla and I talked last night. We’re trying again.”
My world blurred. “What? Why?”
He avoided my eyes. “It’s complicated. We have history, investments… I had your things packed. My driver will take you home tonight.”
Just like that, months of love and hope vanished.
“Look at me!” I demanded. “Have the decency to look at me.”
He finally met my gaze, but there was no regret. Only impatience.
“I thought…” I couldn’t finish. I thought I was special. Loved.
“I’ll have HR handle the work stuff,” he said coldly. “Let’s be adults and move on.”
I left without a word, holding only my pride.
That night, Marcus from design called. We weren’t close, but he was kind.
“You okay? I saw you leave earlier. You looked…”
“Destroyed,” I laughed bitterly. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. And you need to know something.”
He told me Nathan had been overheard talking to his golf buddy about “giving Priscilla a scare,” “showing her what she’d lose,” and “that editor who’s always had a thing for Nathan.”
I felt crushed. I was just a pawn in a dirty game.
“He never filed for divorce, Amy,” Marcus said quietly. “I checked the records. Maybe they planned to. Maybe not. I don’t know. I was worried about you.”
I screamed into my pillow until my throat burned.
I almost skipped work the next day, but cold determination took over. I put on my best dress, my sharpest makeup, and walked in ten minutes late so everyone was at their desks.
Nathan was in the kitchenette with executives. And there was Priscilla, elegant as ever, enjoying pastries.
I walked straight to them, holding a ghost of a smile.
“Good morning, everyone,” I said, voice steady and clear. “I have some news.”
Nathan’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing.
I pulled out a small plastic stick from my purse and held it high.
“I’m pregnant.”
Silence fell. I could hear the hum of the air conditioning.
“Amy?!” Nathan gasped. “Are you out of your mind? Let’s talk—privately.”
“Why? I thought transparency was important. Isn’t that what you always say in meetings?”
Priscilla’s face was unreadable, eyes flickering between the test and her husband’s red face.
“This is ridiculous,” Nathan spat. “You’re making a scene over nothing.”
“Nothing? Am I nothing to you?”
His calm cracked.
“You want the truth? Fine!” His voice rose. “I never loved you. I used you to wake Priscilla up, to scare her about losing me.”
Gasps rippled through the room. Priscilla’s knuckles whitened on the pastry tray.
“You think I’d let her walk away with half my company? Half of everything I built? No way!”
I almost felt sorry. He didn’t even realize how exposed he was.
Priscilla quietly set down the tray and walked away.
I followed, ignoring the whispers and Marcus’s worried hand on my arm.
The next weeks blurred. I took sick leave and ignored calls and texts. Rumors spread—people quitting, clients pulling out. Nathan fell apart, arriving late, leaving early, snapping at anyone.
Then, on a rainy Sunday, the doorbell rang.
Priscilla stood there, looking stunning in jeans and a simple sweater.
“May I come in?”
I stepped aside.
She sat on my couch, refusing tea. “I filed for divorce. I’m taking control of the company.”
“How?” I asked.
“Our prenup has a morality clause,” she smiled. “Nathan was so worried about my mistakes, he forgot his own. Turns out, I own fifty-one percent of the company. My family funded it.”
I was speechless.
“Are you really pregnant?” she asked suddenly.
“No,” I said. “I bought that test that morning.”
She laughed. “Brilliant.”
Her smile faded. “I’ve restructured the team. Nathan’s out. I need someone honest, brave, who knows editorial.”
She held out her hand. “Will you come back? Director position, double salary, reporting directly to me.”
“Why me?”
“Because you were brave enough to burn it all down. That’s the person I want by my side to rebuild.”
Six months later, the company thrived. Priscilla and I formed an unlikely friendship, bonded by shared pain and strength.
Once, I saw Nathan at a café. He looked broken, years older.
“Amy,” he said, hesitant. “You look… good.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t invite him to sit.
“The company’s doing well,” he said weakly. “Priscilla always was the smarter one.”
“Yes, she was.”
He shifted awkwardly. “I’m sorry for everything. I wasn’t myself.”
“No,” I said, gathering my things. “You were exactly yourself. That was the problem.”
I walked away feeling nothing but quiet power.
People use others like pawns, stepping stones. But pawns? Sometimes they cross the board, become queens, and say the last word.
Checkmate.