The Specimen Cup Before My Contract

On my first day at the design firm, I wasn't handed a stylus or a notebook. I was handed a plastic specimen cup.

Company policy, Maggie said, pushing the cup across the desk. Her voice dripped with casual arrogance. Pee in the cup. Once we verify you're not pregnant, we'll sign the contract.

I gripped my offer letter so hard my knuckles turned white.

"I made it very clear during my interview that I have no plans to start a family, and I am definitely not pregnant."

Maggie scoffed, her eyes scanning my resume with blatant contempt. "Vivian Summers, right? You have a boyfriend."

"Everyone talks a big game. Girls your age love to brag about being child-free, only to turn around, get hitched, and go on maternity leave three months later."

I remained silent.

"See? Silence means consent."

"As long as there's a man in your life, whether you get pregnant isn't entirely up to you."

"What if you walk in and immediately take paid leave? The company takes a massive financial hit just to keep you on the payroll. Can you personally cover that loss?"

"You're doing the test today. No exceptions."

With that, she reached out and snatched at the fabric of my long skirt.

In that exact moment, I realized something. I didn't want to use my digital pen to sketch designs anymore. I wanted to use a real pen to stab some people.

...

To end this ridiculous circus as quickly as possible, I pulled out my phone and opened my period tracker.

"My period ended just the day before yesterday. This should be proof enough."

Maggie snatched the phone straight out of my hand, squinting at the screen. She didn't just check the dates; she deliberately swiped through my private calendar, pointing a manicured finger at the heart icons.

"Well, well! Look at all these intimate little dates. You busy girls sure have active social lives."

"You quiet ones are always the wildest. This is a massive liability. We are testing you, period."

Seeing that I wasn't backing down, she tried a softer approach, though her tone remained slimy.

"Look, if you really don't want to do it, just show me a medical certificate proving your boyfriend is infertile."

"Otherwise, get to the bathroom."

I let out a harsh, dry laugh.

My father had been breathing down my neck for months, begging me to come back and run the family conglomerate, the Summers Group. I had refused. I wanted to prove to him that I could survive and thrive in the real world without the family fortune. We had a deal: if I couldn't make a name for myself as a designer within a year, I'd pack my bags and head back to the corporate throne.

But the old man was right about one thing. The world outside was much dirtier than I had imagined.

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to dump that plastic cup right over her head. But I held back. Being a designer was my dream, and this agency was one of the top firms in the industry.

"Fine," I spat, grabbing the cup. "I'll do it."

I turned toward the restroom, but Maggie followed me like a cheap shadow, sticking to me all the way into the stall. She blocked the door with her arm before I could lock it.

"Oh, don't be shy, Vivian," she smirked. "Last month, a headhunter sent over a girl who snuck in someone else's urine sample in her sock. It got flagged, and the director chewed me out for thirty minutes."

"Just pretend I'm not here. Pull down your pants and get on with it."

The restroom door opened directly onto the main hallway. People were walking back and forth, their footsteps echoing clearly. Every few seconds, some male colleagues strolled past, heading toward the balcony for a smoke.

"Maggie, this is completely inappropriate. I have a basic right to privacy."

"Privacy? Once you sign that contract, you belong to the company. Privacy is for the executives."

She raised her voice, deliberately shouting out toward the hallway.

"Hey, guys! Clear out of the hallway! The new girl, Vivian, needs to use the bathroom! Stop hanging around!"

"She's no innocent virgin anyway, but that doesn't mean you get a free show!"

A wave of muffled laughter drifted in from the corridor. Standing in that cramped, sterile stall, a wave of pure humiliation washed over me.

"I'm done. I'm leaving."

I turned to walk out, but Maggie grabbed my arm with surprising strength. Her other hand reached out, lifting the hem of my dress. She stared at my stomach with a cold, assessing gaze, like a butcher inspecting a slab of meat at a slaughterhouse.

"Well, your waist is thin enough, Vivian. Doesn't look like you're showing."

"But girls these days are clever. Without that test, I can't sleep easy."

Just then, a male colleague strolled by the half-open door. He stopped, staring right through the gap, his lips curling into a sickening, greasy grin.

"You're doing great, Maggie. This company needs a tough woman like you to keep things in check."

"The HR team is usually too scared of lawsuits to do their jobs, letting all these freeloaders slide in. You're the one holding this place together."

Flattered by the praise, Maggie raised her voice even louder.

"You can never be too careful these days. Even the ones from Ivy League schools have the same shady tricks. I have to be strict."

"Anyone who's looked for a job lately knows how brutal the market is. If a company takes you in, you should be on your knees thanking them."

"Isn't that right, Vivian?"

I took a slow, deep breath, staring up at the stained ceiling tiles. In that split second, I decided I was done playing by their rules.

I was just about to shove her out of the way when my eyes flicked down. I noticed a slight, barely perceptible curve in her lower abdomen. A sudden realization hit me.

I let out a long breath, forcing myself to look submissive as I lowered my head to hide the fury in my eyes. Using the sink basin to block her view while she was busy flirting and gloating with the guy in the hallway, I quickly scooped a small amount of water from the toilet bowl with the plastic cup.

I spun around, handing the lukewarm, cloudy liquid to her.

"Are we done now?"

Maggie took it with a satisfied smirk, holding it like a hard-won trophy.

The moment she walked away, I pulled out my phone and dialed the one number I never wanted to call.

"Dad, that boutique design firm you were planning to acquire... how are the negotiations going?"

There was a brief pause, followed by a surprised chuckle on the other end. "Well, well. Had a change of heart?"

"I want you to sign the acquisition papers immediately. On one condition."

"I want to be appointed as the head of Human Resources."

"Right now. Today."

The old man laughed, a sound full of sharp, corporate calculation. "What happened to our one-year wager?"

"Nothing. I just realized that instead of drawing pretty pictures, I'd rather use a pen to sign some pink slips."

When I got back to my desk, Maggie had already put on a different mask. She patted my shoulder with maternal condescension.

"Vivian, don't take it personally. I was just looking out for the company. It's nothing against you."

"People have too many tricks up their sleeves these days. You have to understand our position."

I brushed her hand off my shoulder and sat up straight.

"You sure love throwing your weight around, Maggie. Must feel great to have a little power."

Her smile vanished. "What did you say?"

"We run the same check on candidates with master's degrees and PhDs. Who do you think you are with just an undergraduate degree?"

I looked her dead in the eye, my voice ice-cold.

"You love talking about credentials. What about yours?"

"Everyone who works here graduated from a top-tier university."

"They say people overcompensate for what they lack. Tell me... did you even graduate from high school?"

The moment my dad acquired the company, I had accessed the internal database. Her educational background listed elementary school as her highest completed level. She had zero credentials and even less actual talent; she had clearly climbed her way up through nepotism and office politics.

"You're pushing your luck, Vivian!" Maggie hissed, leaning down until her breath brushed my ear. "Let me tell you something. If this test comes back positive, I won't just fire you. I'll blacklist you across the entire industry. I'll make sure you never work as a designer again."

"This is a minefield, and you just stepped right on it."

I tilted my head, studying her face.

"Does this policy apply to everyone in the company? Equally?"

"Of course! If anyone tries to pull a fast one, I'll be the first to kick them out the door!"

"Thanks. Good to know."

I let out a genuine smile for the first time since walking into the building.

Ten minutes later, the test results were ready. Maggie came bursting out of the office, waving a white plastic test strip like a flag of war. She looked like she had just caught a high-profile fugitive, screaming before she even reached my desk.

"Vivian Summers! What do you have to say for yourself now?"

She slammed the lab report onto my desk.

"Positive! You're pregnant!"

She marched right into the center of the open-plan office, raising her voice for the entire floor to hear.

"Everyone, look at this! Vivian Summers, is this what you call 'passion for design'?"

She slapped the paper repeatedly, her voice screeching through the room.

"Sneaking in here on your first day with a bun in the oven just to scam us for paid maternity leave! You are an absolute embarrassment to professional women everywhere!"

Several of Maggie's sycophants immediately joined the chorus.

"No wonder she took so long in the stall. She was terrified of getting caught."

"Thank goodness Maggie has eyes like a hawk. Otherwise, we'd be doing her share of the work while catering to a pregnant princess. How pathetic."

I took a step back, biting my lower lip, letting my shoulders tremble slightly.

"Maggie, are you absolutely sure that's my test result?"

Thinking she had completely broken me, Maggie sneered, leaning in so close her spit nearly hit my face.

"It's right here in black and white! I watched you fill the cup myself. You can't wiggle your way out of this."

"Pack your things and get out of our office. Your contract is null and void!"

She reached out to shove me toward the door. I slipped past her touch effortlessly and picked up the paper. With a gentle flick of my fingernail, the small adhesive label over the name at the top left of the report peeled away.

Underneath, the printed name read: Margaret Potts.

I stared at it, briefly stunned.

When the company health records were being processed, I had immediately swapped my name label onto Maggie's physical report. I wanted her to think the positive result belonged to me. Only by exposing her pregnancy in front of the entire office could I completely uproot this toxic weed.

But why was my name still visible on the database screen she had printed? Did I accidentally grab the wrong paper earlier?

Does that mean... I actually was pregnant?

My heart skipped a beat. Two weeks ago was my anniversary with my boyfriend, Noah. That night had gotten a bit wild, and though we took precautions afterward, my body had been acting strange lately. I had been exhausted, falling asleep at odd hours. Every morning, a wave of nausea hit me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. And my period had been a week late, showing up only as a light, brief spotting.

If that spotting was actually implantation bleeding...

Forget about saving my job. Deciding whether or not to marry Noah would become an immediate crisis. My dad had always been dead-set against my relationship with a self-made guy like Noah.

Maggie noticed the brief flash of panic in my eyes, and her grin widened.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? You were so smug a minute ago."

"Well, Miss Big-Shot Designer, got nothing else to say?"

"Get your things and get out of my sight."

Just then, I caught sight of Vice President Davis standing by his office door, a smug smile playing on his lips. In an instant, everything clicked.

I knew I hadn't made a mistake.

I quickly opened the company's internal portal on my phone and pulled up the official digital medical records. The system database clearly showed that my test was negative.

The positive test belonged to Maggie.

Paper reports could be altered with cheap stickers, but the secure company database couldn't be manipulated so easily. No evidence was more ironclad than the digital ledger.

I turned the screen around, displaying the records for the entire room to see. Maggie's face froze, the smugness instantly draining away, leaving her pale and hollow.

"Maggie, when you were cornering me in that stall, I noticed the slight curve of your stomach."

"I wasn't sure at first."

"But when you instinctively cradled your lower abdomen during our argument, I knew my hunch was right."

Maggie's face flushed a deep crimson before turning a sickly, ash-gray.

"You... what kind of lies are you spreading?!"

"How did you even get access to the company's secure network?"

"This is fake! It has to be fake!"

I tapped my phone screen, showing the official corporate announcement that had just landed in every employee's inbox.

"Actually, as of ten minutes ago, I am the new HR Director."

"Reviewing employee records is well within my job description."

I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear.

"And didn't you just say that anyone who gets pregnant should be fired immediately?"

She let out a desperate, screeching laugh, her voice cracking under the pressure.

"You? An HR Director? You're a junior designer! Have you lost your mind?!"

Right then, heavy, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. The actual executive board members marched in. Holding the official acquisition papers, they bypassed Maggie entirely and walked straight to my desk, bowing slightly.

"Director Summers, the transition is complete."

Maggie collapsed back into her chair, her eyes glazed with shock. I opened my tablet, displaying her original file for everyone to see.

"Now, let's see just how much fiction is in your resume, Margaret Potts."