Clocking Out To My Ex

I had to clock out on the dot every day to cook and serve my kid, or my darling husband would beat the crap out of me. It was the ultimate hopelessly romantic persona I crafted to avoid working late.

Who knew that one day, my ex-boyfriend would buy out our company?

He flipped through everyone's attendance records, a cold, fake smile plastered on his face as he looked at me. "You are the only person in this entire company who never works overtime. And the reason is you need to go home and cook for your husband and kid?"

A coworker next to me pleaded on my behalf. "Boss, please cut her some slack. Her husband has a nasty temper"

She pushed up my sleeve, exposing a fresh scrape on my arm.

Christian's face instantly darkened. He dragged me straight into the CEO's office, pinning me hard against the back of the door.

The corners of the man's eyes burned red. He ground out through clenched teeth. "Katherine, it's only been two years since we broke up. You were in such a rush to marry a piece of trash?"

Chapter 1

My mouth was constantly running about my husband and kid. Because of this, I was the only person in the entire company who clocked out exactly on time, every single day. Everyone knew the unspoken rule. If I got home late and delayed dinner, my husband would beat me.

I didn't care about overtime pay. I didn't fight for extra time off. I had zero ambition. I was totally zen, staying completely out of the rat race.

My coworkers loved having me around. I was a zero-threat existence.

My real joy only began after I clocked out. Grabbing drinks with my bestie, hitting up a club to check out some hot bartenders, just living my best life. Days went by in this peaceful, drama-free bubble.

Until our company got acquired.

And the new CEO was my ex-boyfriend.

Honestly, the day Christian dropped into our office like a bomb, my brain short-circuited.

Immaculately styled slicked-back hair, a ridiculously expensive bespoke suit, and an arrogant, look-down-on-the-world glare. He was no longer the reckless kid from two years ago. Now, he reeked of dominant, alpha CEO energy.

He walked in with a whole entourage of assistants, practically generating his own wind. It was like he had a slow-mo TikTok edit playing in the background. Total untouchable, king-of-the-world vibes.

Every eye in the room was glued to him.

The next second, I couldn't hold back a sneeze.

That cologne was way too strong. Peacocking much, Chris?

Everyone's head snapped toward me. To maintain my tragic mommy persona, I was currently swallowed in a massive, shapeless black puffer jacket. I even had a pair of hideous floral sleeve protectors pulled over my arms.

Christian's gaze landed on me. He let out a low scoff. "If I remember correctly, there is only one employee in this entire building who never works overtime."

He made a show of flipping through the timesheets in his hand. "Why? Are the overtime benefits not good enough?

"We offer extra pay, comp time, and we even cover your Uber rides home. Katherine, do you have some sort of problem with this company?"

"No, Mr. CEO," I replied, my face completely deadpan.

Pamela, a senior coworker standing nearby, saw the new boss targeting me and rushed in to play peacemaker. "Mr. CEO, please. Kat really has a hard time."

My stomach dropped. Oh no. But it was too late.

Pamela grabbed my sleeve and shoved it up. A glaring, raw scrape was exposed for the whole room to see.

I actually got that from tripping outside a bar last night after partying way too hard.

"Look at this, sir. Kat has to be home on the dot every day to make dinner for her husband and kid. If she's even a minute late well." She trailed off, looking at me with pure pity.

The silence spoke volumes.

I was cringing so hard my toes were curling in my cheap shoes. But I had dug this grave, and I was going to lie in it.

I closed my eyes and nodded like a martyr facing the guillotine. "Yes. If I don't clock out on time to cook, my husband hits me."

I opened my eyes, meeting Christian's gaze. It was wide with pure disbelief. "That is my reason for not working overtime, sir."

The files in Christian's hand crumpled. His knuckles instantly drained of color, turning stark white. A vein throbbed faintly at his temple.

He stared at me, his chest rising as he forcibly suppressed the raw fury threatening to spill over. "Say that again. Who hits you?"

"Her husband! You have no idea, boss, Kat's man is an absolute monster!" The other coworkers immediately started chiming in, defending me in a chaotic chorus.

Chapter 2

Pamela naturally loved to gossip. The various atrocities committed by my fictional husband were mostly exaggerated rumors spread by my coworkers. But right now, I was in no position to dispute them. I kept my head down, picking at my cuticles.

Pins and needles all over my back. A massive lump in my throat. I was playing the tragic, abused martyr to absolute perfection.

Christian's jaw clenched tight. The longer he listened to them, the darker his expression became. He held it back, and held it back, until his patience completely snapped.

"Enough," he cut through the office chatter, his voice pure ice. "I get the picture. Everyone back to work."

I felt like I had just been handed a pardon. I kept my head tucked and was just about to bolt when the back of my neck suddenly jerked tight. Christian had grabbed a fistful of my puffer jacket hood.

"You." He lifted his gaze to mine, his tone frigid. "With me."

Christian dragged me by the arm, stalking forward. The air pressure around him was so suffocatingly low he looked ready to commit murder.

"Mr. CEO, where are we going? Couldn't you just say it out there?" I asked.

"What? The boss wants to talk, and you think you get to pick the venue?"

"Fine. You're the boss. You call the shots."

The second we crossed the threshold into his office, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang.

A heartbeat later, my back hit the solid wood. He pinned me behind the door. His dark, brooding gaze locked onto mine, his chest heaving heavily against my space, radiating a furious heat.

I slowly turned my face away. "Mr. CEO, inappropriate workplace behavior."

"Heh. Mr. CEO?" A low laugh slipped from his lips, dripping with mockery.

"When things were good between us, I was baby. Now that you've got someone new, I'm just Mr. CEO."

I took back my thought of him being a mature CEO. He was still the exact same childish dog from two years ago.

"Should I call you boss then?" I shoved at his chest, putting a fraction of physical distance between us.

"Boss, I am married. I have a husband and a child. What you are doing right now is workplace harassment."

Christian froze. A cold, hollow laugh pushed through his nose, and his grip instantly released. "Katherine. You dumped me, and after only two years, you were in such a rush that you married a piece of trash?"

I had no comeback for that. I simply offered a polite, deadpan smile.

He collapsed heavily into his leather desk chair, yanking his tie loose in one rough motion. He looked exactly like a beaten, abandoned dog.

"Who was the one who said she would rather die than get married?" he asked.

"Some people are like rainbows," I bullshitted smoothly. "You don't know they exist until you meet them."

"And your rainbow beats you?"

"" I temporarily choked on my words.

"Your entire department knows your husband hits you," he pressed. "You sprint out of here every day because you're terrified he'll lay hands on you if dinner is late. Did you say that or not?"

"Yeah, I said that."

"Then why the hell are you still defending him?"

"He's really sweet to me when he's not hitting me."

Christian stared at me. His eyes were a raw, messy blend of fury and absolute agony.

"How did you become like this? You used to slap me without even blinking. And since when can you cook? I used to thank God if you managed not to burn my kitchen down."

"It's only been two years. Where is that ruthless spark you used to have?

"When we were dating, you swore you were strictly anti-marriage. But for this toxic piece of shit, you managed to get married and pop out a kid in two years? What, did I just show up in the wrong season of your life?"

I silently took back my thought about playing the ultimate tragic martyr. The real tragic martyr was sitting right in front of me. A male drama queen.

"Boss," I interrupted his spiral.

He looked up at me through his lashes, staring like a pathetic puppy, clearly waiting for my explanation.

Chapter 3

It was a pity I had absolutely nothing to explain. I offered a small, empty smile. "It is time to clock out. I need to go home and cook."

"Katherine!" He was practically vibrating with rage, grinding out every single syllable. "I hate you."

"Hate me all you want, just do not dock my pay. Goodbye, boss."

I pulled the office door shut with a soft click and walked away without a single backward glance.

The next few days were blissfully quiet. Christian did not seek me out. I secretly rejoiced, knowing this devoted-mommy persona was the perfect shield to repel my ex.

That was until a massive rainstorm hit. I stood stranded on the curb, completely unable to flag down an Uber.

A sleek black Porsche rolled to a smooth stop right in front of me.

The window glided down. Christian leaned casually against the leather seat, his tone dripping with mockery. "Pouring rain out here, and your husband didn't come pick you up?"

"He is busy with work," I replied smoothly.

"Tch. How busy could he be?" He let out a dark chuckle. "Never heard the saying, happy wife, happy life?"

"Yeah, well. He didn't exactly take a masterclass in being the perfect, devoted simp like you did."

That choked him right up. Christian scowled at me. "Kat, with a mouth like yours, can anyone actually bully you?"

I did not have the energy to argue. I yanked the passenger door open and slid inside. "Let's go. Southwood Apartments."

"Who said I was giving you a ride?"

Still playing hard to get. I had watched him circle this exact block three times already.Besides, I had already spotted the two massive boxes sitting in the backseat. A limited-edition Lego Star Wars set and a massive Barbie Dreamhouse.

"You even bought presents for my kid, and you expect me to believe you aren't here to give me a ride?" I asked.

I caught him red-handed. The tips of his ears flushed a faint pink, and he turned his head away to let out an unnatural cough. "I did the math. The kid is his from a previous marriage, right?"

He looked so incredibly smug and confident in his deduction. "You married a divorced guy? Is your little stepchild a boy or a girl?"

"He is mine," I corrected him, my expression deadpan. "My biological son. But he is only a little over a year old. He cannot build a Lego set yet."

Christian's hands seized the steering wheel so hard the leather let out a sharp creak. His breathing hitched, shattering in his throat. When he finally forced the words out, a violent tremble tore through his voice.

"Kat we only broke up two years ago. And your son is already over a year old. Are you telling me you jumped into bed with him the exact second we ended things?"

The corners of his eyes burned a raw, tearful red.

I clicked my tongue, completely unaffected. "Let's just drop it. I am genuinely worried you are going to cry right now."

He slammed his foot on the gas. The Porsche shot forward like a bullet. A suffocating silence consumed the entire drive.

When we pulled up beneath my apartment building, my personal chauffeur was still aggressively pouting like a petulant child. Right before I stepped out of the car, I glanced at him. "Let the past stay in the past. I am genuinely happy to see you doing so well as a bigshot CEO. Bye."

I walked into my apartment and immediately spotted the overturned food bowl on the floor. Beside it lay a massive, incredibly grumpy fat cat.

"Alright, alright. It was pouring rain today, so I was a tiny bit late. Stop throwing a tantrum, Junior."

I cracked open a can of premium wet food, mixed it into his kibble, and respectfully served it on his little dining table. Before Junior could even take his first bite, my phone screen lit up with Christian's name.

Chapter 4

A few minutes later, my phone vibrated.

Christian's voice came through the speaker, clipped and cold. "You forgot the kid's presents."

I glanced down at the massive cat currently inhaling his wet food. "Forget it. He would probably tear them to shreds anyway."

"Katherine." His voice suddenly dropped, heavy and dark.

"Hmm?"

"Divorce your husband. Let me be your husband."

I froze for a split second. Then I let out a light laugh. "Mr. CEO, you are sexually harassing your employee again."

"Then sue me! I am losing my goddamn mind." His voice suddenly spiked, cracking with raw, unhinged desperation.

"I am sitting downstairs right now. I am staring at the single light on in your window, thinking about you living up there with another man I want to kick that fucking door in and put a bullet in his head."

A child. He was still such a dramatic child. Always jumping straight to murder and destruction.

I kept my voice completely flat. "You have been watching too many mafia movies, Christian. Put the imaginary gun away."

"Can you not do this when I am trying to be serious?"

"Then talk fast. So you can go home early."

"Divorce him. I will raise the kid. I swear I will treat him like my own flesh and blood. If you don't believe me, I will schedule a vasectomy tomorrow morning."

He met pure silence on my end. The panic in his voice dialed up.

"The kid keeps your last name. I will take the kid's last name. Does that work?"

"Impressive." I finally spoke, practically wanting to give him a slow clap. "Why don't you just take my husband's last name while you are at it?"

Dead silence flooded the line.

A few seconds later, I heard a sharp sniffle. He ground out through his teeth. "Katherine, you really don't treat me like a fucking human being."

The call abruptly clicked dead.

I let out a slow, quiet breath. People are always trapped by the things they couldn't have in their youth, only to be freed by a fleeting moment in the present. It works for things, and it works for people.

Memories are just memories. They hold absolutely zero power over me.

When Christian and I were at our peak, we were both fresh out of college. Young, broke, and completely drunk on each other.

We crammed ourselves into a tiny, shoebox apartment. The second we got off work, we were glued together.

Skin against skin from the living room floor, tangling into the bedroom, and eventually sliding against the damp tiles of the shower. A suffocating, sticky kind of sweet. An obsession so deep we couldn't physically pull apart