A Punching Bag's Paycheck

For five years, I was the top executive assistant to the CEO of Thorne Corporation, living less like an employee and more like a servant hired to clean up the messes of him and his fiancée.
When he had an affair, I sanitized the scene. When his fiancée, who suffered from severe anxiety, had a meltdown, I was her 24/7 punching bag.
When she checked up on him, I was the shield. When she hunted for his mistress, I was the scapegoat.
Coffee thrown in my face and slanderous rumors were just part of the job description.
Marcus Thorne thought he could buy my life with a pittance of a salary and a hollow phrase like "I value you."
That all changed the night Liana Bloom broke into my apartment with a knife, and he said with a frown, "Alice, just apologize, and we can put this behind us."
I looked at them, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face.
Fine. One a monster, one a madwoman. A match made in hell.
In that case, I would take everything they held dear, piece by piece, and smash it all to smithereens.

1
My phone vibrated violently across my desk, the clock on the screen reading 2:00 AM. Liana Bloom’s name glowed like a death sentence.
I had just wrapped up 48 consecutive hours of high-intensity work, and my eyelids felt like they were lined with lead. I rubbed my throbbing temples and forced down the wave of irritation as I answered.
"Alice! Why isn't Marcus answering my calls? Did you hide him from me? Are you with him?" Liana's voice was a choked sob.
I glanced at the glass wall of the CEO's office, seeing the entangled silhouettes of two figures reflected in the dark pane. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, but I kept my voice steady.
"Miss Bloom, Mr. Thorne is in an overseas video conference. It's been running for six hours, and his phone is on silent."
"You're lying! I know you're in there with him!" she shrieked. "Put him on the phone! Now! Right now!"
Her voice was so shrill it felt like a shard of glass in my ear.
"I'm sorry, I don't have the authority to interrupt the CEO's meeting."
Even through my exhaustion, my tone was placid. How could I tell her that her fiancé was actually in his office with a young influencer, and that after my official workday ended at six, my job had been to clear the building, greet the girl at seven, and then stand guard outside, a forced audience to their six-hour tryst?
As expected, her next words were an accusation.
"You're just an assistant! Who the hell are you to keep me from my own fiancé? Are you trying to sleep your way to the top? Let me tell you, I will never let you succeed!"
The line went dead, immediately followed by a barrage of dozens of abusive text messages. I stared at the screen filled with vile curses, my face a mask of indifference as I screenshotted each one and saved them to a private, encrypted folder.
How many times had this happened? I'd lost count. I had reported it to Marcus before, but it always ended the same way: with him telling me that managing Liana's "anxieties" was part of my job. My KPI.
Just as I was about to pass out from exhaustion, the office door swung open. Marcus emerged, his arm draped around the influencer.
"Alice, go in there and clean up. Leave no trace," he commanded, his tone casual, entitled. "Liana is sensitive, and she's been dropping by unannounced lately. I don't want her to see anything."
This wasn't the first time. Marcus loved the thrill of fooling around in his office, never a hotel, never his home. But he was terrified of exposure, so I was his permanent lookout and his clean-up crew. And in the eyes of his fiancée, Liana, the blame for every one of his infidelities landed squarely on my shoulders.
The next day, during a break in a client meeting, Liana walked up to me, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. "Alice, you've worked so hard. Here's a coffee, on me."
Before I could react, she "tripped," sending the entire scalding contents of the cup onto my white silk blouse.
Gasps erupted around us as Liana's eyes filled with crocodile tears. "Oh my God, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to! Are you okay, Alice?"
Marcus rushed over at the commotion. He took one look at the scene, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He immediately wrapped an arm around Liana, comforting her. "It's alright, Lia. I know you didn't mean it."
Only after soothing his fiancée did he turn his irritated gaze to me, drenched and humiliated. "Alice, we have another client meeting shortly. Go get yourself cleaned up." He added, as an afterthought, "It's just a shirt. I'll have finance approve fifty bucks for a replacement. They can take it out of next month's travel budget."
Fifty bucks? The designer blouse I had splurged on to maintain a professional image for his company had cost me five hundred. My colleagues shot me looks of pity, but mostly, it was weary resignation. Everyone knew that as the CEO's executive assistant, I earned barely more than an intern, did the work of three people, and was expected to silently endure the whims of the boss's unhinged fiancée.
That evening, Marcus kept me after hours, his tone one of faux confidentiality.
"Alice, I know today was difficult. I got home late last night, and Liana is very perceptive. She smelled a different perfume on my clothes and assumed you were getting too close."
I had reached my breaking point. I told him Liana's behavior was severely impacting my work and showed him the screenshots of her abusive messages.
His gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. "Alice, you disappoint me. I hired you for your calm and steady nature. I trusted you to keep Liana calm." His voice hardened. "Do you know how many Ivy League graduates would kill for a position at Thorne? I gave you, a state school graduate, this opportunity because I valued you. Is this how you repay me?"
"Mr. Thorne, I am simply reporting a serious issue—"
He slammed his tablet on the desk, cutting me off. "What kind of job do you think you'll find if you leave Thorne Corp? Or is it that you're unwilling to placate Liana because, just like all those other women, you have inappropriate feelings for me?"
"I do not—"
"Good. Then remember that your job includes managing my fiancée. If you can't handle it, I have no problem finding an assistant who can."
A chill ran down my spine. After everything I had done for him and his company, I was still just a disposable cog in his machine. Seeing my crestfallen expression, his tone softened.
"Think about your rent next month, Alice. And your parents back home, your sister who needs your support."
He knew exactly where to twist the knife. For this mediocre salary, for the "respectable" job my parents were so proud of, for my younger sister's leukemia treatments that had started five years ago, I swallowed my pride one more time.
My submission bought me a brief period of peace. A few days later, Marcus handed me a small, velvet jewelry box.
"It's Liana's birthday tomorrow. I need you to give this to her. I've got plans that night, so just keep her company until morning."
"Sir, that's not appropriate—"
"It's perfectly appropriate. Take her shopping. The company will reimburse you for thirty percent of any expenses." He continued, his voice smooth as silk. "I gave you this job, I gave you access to the core of my business. You owe your entire career to me."
So, not only was I to spend the night with his fiancée so he could cheat, I was also expected to cover seventy percent of the costs myself, all as "repayment" for the "opportunity" he'd given me.
When I presented Liana with the lavish bracelet from Marcus, she was ecstatic, holding out her slender arm for me to admire, gushing about how perfect they were together. But her mood soured quickly. She demanded I call Marcus and tell him to come home.
I knew Marcus had planned a foursome at the office that night. My call would be less than useless.
"Miss Bloom, Mr. Thorne has a very important engagement tonight. He really can't get away. Perhaps I could take you home, or we could continue shopping—"
"Shopping? I see what this is. You're the one keeping me from him, you damn homewrecker!"
CRACK!
The sharp, stinging slap echoed in the quiet, upscale boutique.
Liana looked as shocked as I was for a moment, before her face crumpled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! But why are you trying to steal my man? Just because he has money, you think you can throw yourself at him?"
The other shoppers fell silent, all eyes on us. My cheek burned, a perfect red handprint blooming on my skin. I heard the whispers: shameless, gold-digger, sleeping with a taken man, slut...
I wanted to defend myself, but Liana had already collapsed onto the floor, sobbing hysterically, drawing an even larger crowd of onlookers. Fearing what this unstable woman might do next, I had no choice but to half-drag, half-carry her home and hand her over to her housekeeper.
My "kindness" was not rewarded. Soon, rumors began circulating at work: I was using unethical means to win projects, sabotaging my colleagues, taking bribes from partners. The source of this slander was obvious.
I had had enough. I went to Marcus, demanding he clear my name.
When I entered his office, he was lounging on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Rumors, Alice? You know what they say, where there's smoke, there's fire. Perhaps your own behavior hasn't been entirely professional?"
He didn't care about the truth. He enjoyed this—the power, the control, watching his fiancée toy with me while I scrambled to survive.
A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. He had never seen me as a person. I was a tool to pacify his fiancée, an object to display his power over, a cheap and disposable slave.
Rage and shock warred within me. I stopped trying to argue. I pulled the resignation letter I had prepared from my bag and slapped it down on his desk.
Without a backward glance, I walked out.
I didn't tell my parents I had quit. I didn't tell them I had no way to pay for my sister's next round of treatment. I spent my days compiling a dossier on Marcus and Liana—every threat, every incident—while frantically sending out resumes. My family's situation meant I couldn't afford to be unemployed for a single day.
But my job search was a dead end. Every application vanished into a black hole. The few interviews I landed were mysteriously rejected at the final stage. After a week of this, a text from Marcus arrived.
[Alice, you were in the wrong first. But in light of your five years of service, I'm giving you one last chance. Come to the office tomorrow, apologize to Liana in front of everyone, and we'll consider this matter closed.]
I laughed until tears streamed down my face. But my pride wouldn't let me crawl back, even though he had me pinned. I knew then that he was the one sabotaging my job search.
If I was going down, I was taking them with me.
I compiled a portion of my evidence, anonymized it, and sent it to several gossip reporters, including several suggestive photos of Marcus with various women.
The internet began to stir.
My phone rang. It was Marcus, roaring with fury. "Alice, you backstabbing bitch! You think you can threaten me? I will destroy you. You'll never work in this industry again. Expect a call from my lawyers!"
His power was formidable. The posts were taken down by that evening, replaced by a unified narrative from several popular blogs.
#Thorne Corp Exec Assistant, Spurned and Bitter, Spreads Malicious Lies#
Liana saw the articles. She showed up at my cheap rental apartment with a group of hired thugs.
"Alice, you pathetic slut! Can't live without a man, can you? How dare you spread lies online!" Her eyes were filled with venom. "Get her! Rip that seductive face of hers apart!"
As her goons descended on me, a man who had witnessed the slapping incident in the boutique happened to be passing by. He clicked his tongue. "Well, well. The wife finally came to deal with the mistress."
The word "mistress" sent Liana into a complete frenzy. Ignoring my battered body on the floor, she shrieked and pulled a glittering fruit knife from her purse.
"It was you! How dare you? Marcus is mine! You can die!"
As she lunged, a cold, final despair washed over me. In the shadow of death, I used my last ounce of strength to twist away. The blade missed my heart, but plunged deep into my side.
White-hot pain exploded through me. Warm blood gushed out, soaking my shirt. I staggered back, clutching the wound, staring in disbelief at the demonic face before me. Seeing the blood on her knife seemed to snap her out of it for a second, but the madness quickly returned.
"Good. Once you're dead, you can't seduce my Marcus anymore."
Before the pain and terror could overwhelm me, I fumbled for the phone in my pocket and hit the emergency dial button. Then, I collapsed into a pool of my own blood.
The sharp pain in my side and the sterile smell of antiseptic brought me back to consciousness. I was in a hospital. I had been saved.

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