At my boss’s barbecue, the smell of sizzling burgers and sweet barbecue sauce filled the air as I walked through the front gate of her house.
It was my first company barbecue since starting my job three months ago, and I had to admit, Jill knew how to throw a party. The late summer sun cast long, stretching shadows over her perfectly manicured lawn. I looked around and saw coworkers lounging in camp chairs, balancing paper plates full of food.
“Liz! You came!” Jill waved from her spot by the grill, spatula in hand. She wore a bright yellow apron that read “Queen of the Grill” in sparkly letters, a perfect match for her vibrant and larger-than-life personality. In the few months I’d worked at the company, she had already become the best boss I’d ever had.
I weaved through the crowd, accepting a beer from Tom in accounting (one of the few people I had managed to remember the name of) and dodging Karen from HR who was trying to rope me into yet another conversation about her latest multi-level marketing scheme.
The food looked amazing: burgers sizzling on the grill, a bowl of creamy potato salad, and what looked like Sandra’s famous seven-layer dip that I had heard so much about.
“Perfect timing!” Jill said as I reached her. “The second batch is almost ready. How are you settling in?”
“Everyone’s been so welcoming,” I replied, grabbing a paper plate. “By the way, those quarterly reports you wanted are almost done.”
Jill laughed. “No work talk! This is a party.” She expertly flipped a burger. “Oh, my husband Mark just got home.”
I followed her gaze to where a tall man was walking through the gate. Someone had mentioned he worked as a financial advisor and usually arrived late because of client meetings. He looked just like what you’d expect from a financial advisor—dressed in a crisp button-down shirt, a neat haircut, and a responsible-looking watch.
A photographer from the marketing team was snapping candid shots for the company newsletter. Mark walked over to Jill, and they shared a warm hug as the camera clicked away. It was a perfect moment… until his eyes met mine over Jill’s shoulder.
He froze. His smile disappeared, replaced by a look I couldn’t quite read. Recognition? No, it was more than that. It felt like he was staring at me like I was someone he had known intimately, like I was a long-lost lover.
The moment seemed to stretch, uncomfortable and strange. I shifted, feeling an odd chill creeping over the party. After that, the atmosphere changed subtly, almost imperceptibly, like a cloud passing over the sun.
Mark’s eyes kept finding mine. Not just quick glances, but long, burning stares that made my skin prickle. I tried to ignore it, but every time I looked up, there he was, staring at me with what looked like recognition—and something else. Longing? It was confusing. I’d never met the man before. I had only started working here three months ago. It didn’t make sense.
“Want another beer?” Sandra appeared beside me, making me jump.
“God, yes,” I said a little too quickly.
I was about to follow her to the cooler when a hand suddenly grabbed my elbow.
“Hi, Liz.”
I froze. Mark was standing there, way too close, smelling like expensive cologne. How did he know my name? I was the newest hire, and we had never been formally introduced.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “Meet me behind the house in 10 minutes.”
I should’ve said no. I should’ve found Jill. But instead, curiosity got the best of me. I found myself nodding, even though my instincts screamed at me to walk away.
He was gone before I could even think of a reason to object, leaving me standing there with my empty plate and a racing heart. What the hell was that all about?
Nine minutes later, I walked around the side of the house, telling myself this was probably just some weird work thing. Maybe Jill had asked him to talk to me about something—maybe it was about a promotion or something official. I didn’t know.
But when I got behind the house, Mark was already there, pacing nervously in the shadows.
When he saw me, his face showed a mix of relief and desperation. “Thank God,” he said. “Listen, we need to figure out a cover story. I didn’t realize you work for my wife, but she doesn’t have to know about us.”
I blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“That we’re…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Having an affair!”
I couldn’t hold it in. A laugh burst out of me. “We’re what?”
“This isn’t funny, Liz,” he said, his face tight. “You knowing Jill complicates things. I don’t know if I can keep being around you at these things, but we can make it work.”
He took a step closer, and I immediately put my hand up between us. “Whoa, whoa! I don’t know who you think I am, but I’ve never met you before.”
“Don’t play dumb, Liz,” he snapped, pulling out his phone. “Look!”
He shoved his phone into my hands, and my stomach dropped.
On the screen were hundreds of messages… from me. Well, not exactly me, but someone using my picture and name. I took the phone, my mind spinning as I scrolled through nine months of messages—inside jokes, flirty comments, and eventually, much more than flirting.
“This isn’t possible,” I whispered. “I’ve never… We’ve never…”
“Liz, please,” Mark said, his voice desperate. “I know this is scary, but—”
“No, you don’t understand,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “This isn’t me. You’ve been catfished.”
Mark stared at me like I had just lost my mind. I looked back at his phone, struggling to make sense of what I was seeing.
Then, something clicked. About a year ago, I had made a profile on a dating app as a joke—just to mess around. But I never actually used it. Clearly, someone else had, and the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, pulling out my own phone with trembling fingers. “This can’t be happening.”
I dialed a number, and when my mom picked up, I said, “You need to get here right now. I’m sending you the address.”
I texted her the location and told her to meet me behind the house. My hands shook, but I knew deep down that this was the only explanation. My mom had been pretending to be me. It didn’t make sense, but it was the only thing that fit.
Twenty minutes later, my mom arrived. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Mark. Her face said everything before she even spoke.
“Mom,” I said, my voice oddly steady, “Have you been texting him from my account for the past nine months? The account I made when we joked about mother-daughter double dates last year?”
The silence that followed was deafening. My mom opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. Mark stood there, looking like someone had just told him the Earth was flat.
“All those times you visited,” I continued, “and I saw you smiling at your phone, constantly texting… you were talking to him, under my profile, weren’t you?”
“I… it was just texting!” My mom burst out. “We never met in person! It wasn’t real!”
“Wasn’t real?” Mark’s voice cracked. “We talked every day. You told me… I thought…”
“He’s married! And you, you stole my identity. How could you?”
“Mark?”
We all turned around to see Jill standing there, her face an icy mask of fury.
“Get out,” she said, her voice cold as ice.
“Jill, I can explain—”
“Everything in this house belongs to me. You can pack a bag and leave,” she snapped.
“But I thought… we were…”
“You thought you were having an affair with my employee,” Jill’s voice didn’t waver, but I could see her hands shaking. “You were having an affair with my employee’s mother, pretending to be her daughter. Pack your bag. Now.”
The next morning, I typed up my resignation letter. Just two short paragraphs, professional and brief. I couldn’t face going back to work, couldn’t deal with the whispers and the stares that would follow.
As I hit send, my phone lit up with another message from my mom. Her fifteenth message since last night. I deleted it without reading.
Some things you can’t fix with an apology. Some betrayals cut too deep.
My mom had stolen my identity to catfish men on a dating app. Mark had fallen for a lie. And somewhere in the middle of all that, real lives had shattered.
I closed my laptop, and then I looked at my phone one last time before turning it off. Seventeen messages now. Each one probably full of excuses, apologies, and explanations that wouldn’t change anything.
I had only been at the job for three months, but I’d somehow managed to destroy my boss’s marriage before even finishing my probation period. Sometimes, all you can do is walk away and never look back.
Here’s another story: I thought Austin was the perfect man, a widower raising his daughter, grounded by tragedy. But everything unraveled the day his daughter whispered a chilling secret: her mother wasn’t dead.
