Revenge on the Amnesiac CEO

Tina Matthews stepped into Luke Lawson’s office, her heart pounding like a drum against her ribs.

She had barely crossed the threshold when Jonah, Luke’s recent personal assistant, brushed past her in a storm of fury. One hand clutched his cheek, red and swelling. His jaw was tight, eyes wild, barely masking the shame burning through him.

“I quit!” Jonah spat, not even slowing his pace. His voice cracked like a whip in the air. “And if you’re smart, Tina… you’ll do the same.”

The door slammed shut behind him with a finality that echoed down the corridor.

Tina stood frozen. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She hadn’t even seen Jonah enter this morning—and now he was gone. Just like that.

Inside, Luke stood by his mahogany desk, sleeves rolled up, collar open, the picture of calm control—as if he hadn’t just physically assaulted an employee. His face was unreadable, composed. Icy

“Close the door,” he said without looking up.

She obeyed, fingers shaky on the handle.

When she turned back, he was holding up a printed report like it personally offended him.

“You used the word principle instead of principal,” he said coldly. “Again.”

Tina opened her mouth. “It was just one—”

“One typo,” he cut in, voice smooth and sharp as glass, “is one too many. I expect precision. Not careless, high school-level errors.”

Tina clenched her jaw. Humiliation spread hot under her skin. “I’ll correct it,” she murmured, forcing her voice to stay even.

Her gaze dropped. One typo. That was all it took to be reduced to nothing.

Luke returned to his desk, flipping through his planner like she didn’t exist.

“Dr. Emmett Laird,” he said. “Secure him as the guest speaker for the upcoming webinar. Confirm availability within the hour.”

Tina blinked. “Sir, Dr. Laird’s team typically needs at least—”

“You’re my secretary, Miss Matthews,” he said without missing a beat. “Figure it out.”

Dismissed.

She turned and left the office, heart hammering in her chest.

For the next hour, Tina sat at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she navigated call after call—assistant to assistant to assistant.

She checked the clock. 56 minutes gone.

Finally, a voice on the other end confirmed what she already suspected.

Dr. Laird was unavailable on the requested date.

Tina sighed, typed a quick update, and hit send.

Within seconds, Luke’s office door opened.

“You had one task,” he said, voice sharp enough to cut.

“I reached out to everyone I could. Dr. Laird is abroad on a lecture tour. I tried—”

“There’s always a way, Miss Matthews,” he snapped. “You just didn’t find it.”

He turned back into his office, the door clicking shut.

Tina sat down slowly, feeling her spine fold into her chair.

By noon, Tina's headache was a full-blown throb behind her eyes. She popped the painkiller into her mouth; her coping mechanism.

She skipped lunch—again—and took her place in the conference room for the marketing team’s weekly meeting.

Luke stood at the head of the table, arms crossed as the director presented campaign data.

“We’ve had a decent response to the new course,” the director said, “but it’s not reaching far enough. I don’t know if anyone has a suggestion.”

Tina raised her hand slightly.

“What if we did a social media challenge?” she offered. “Something interactive—maybe a quiz or teaser to drive engagement before the webinar.”

Before anyone could respond, Luke spoke.

“That’s not how we do things here, Tina. Stick to scheduling appointments.”

Silence.

The marketing team nodded awkwardly. No one dared contradict him.

Tina lowered her eyes, cheeks burning.

Her hands curled in her lap. The pain in her head grew worse.

She swallowed another painkiller and said nothing else.

An hour later, she was juggling PA duties now that Jonah was gone.

Luke emerged from his office again.

“Book Studio E for Professor Dalton’s recording session. I want confirmation today.”

Tina nodded, booked it within ten minutes, and returned to her work.

Twenty minutes later, he returned.

“Cancel Studio E. I want Studio B instead.”

“Sir, Studio B is fully booked this week. Studio E has the same tech—”

“I asked for Studio B,” he said sharply.

She took a breath. “I’ve contacted them. There’s no slot available.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I always get resistance from you?”

“I’m giving you the facts so we can adjust the—”

“If you can’t manage a simple booking, Miss Matthews, maybe you’re in the wrong role.”

A sharp crack echoed across the desk.

Her pen had snapped in her grip.

She stood still, heart racing, willing herself not to react.

Not here. Not in front of him.

By six, the office was nearly empty. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as she sat in her cubicle, bathed in the cold glow of her monitor. Her head was a battlefield. Her stomach cramped from stress and skipped meals. Her shoulders ached with tension that had nowhere to go. Luke was in a meeting with shareholders and she could not leave the office; he might need something in the course of the meeting.

She couldn't scream. Couldn't cry.

So, she opened her laptop.

Surviving the Corporate Jungle: her anonymous blog. Her therapy. Her scream in the void.

She clicked on New Post.

"Today, I watched someone walk out of a glass office with his dignity intact—after being slapped by a man who thinks money equals immunity.

I watched a woman - yours truly, get blamed for things outside her control. I spoke up and was silenced. I tried to help and was told to stay in my lane.

And still, I stayed.

Because survival, it turns out, is an underrated skill.”

She clicked Post.

It was out there. Her truth. Raw and real.

Within minutes, the notifications rolled in. Comments. Likes. Anonymous stories from strangers across the world—cubicle warriors, underpaid dreamers, exhausted assistants.

She wasn’t alone. Not really.

For the first time that day, Tina breathed.

She leaned back, letting her aching body melt into the chair.

Just then, her phone buzzed. A message notification.

She clicked on it.

"Careful, Tina. Glass walls have ears.”

She glanced around at the now empty office. Who could have sent that message?