At 35, I was deep into my career as a senior editor at a busy publishing company. I’d spent six years working harder than anyone else—showing up early, leaving late, and keeping my head down. Love? No time for that. My apartment was quiet, except for Hemingway, my fluffy cat, who was my only real company. My heart was locked up tight ever since my ex, David, left me for his college sweetheart. I didn’t want to think about love.
But then Nathan walked into my life.
Nathan was my boss. He had that commanding corner office with glass walls and a view that took your breath away—twinkling city lights, endless streets. At 42, his salt-and-pepper hair made him look even more handsome, and his smile? It could light up a whole room.
“Amy, burning the midnight oil again?” he’d ask, leaning casually against my office door frame at 5:30 p.m., his jacket thrown over one shoulder.
I’d push my glasses up and try to hide the flutter in my chest. “Just finishing up.”
“You work too hard. Don’t forget to live a little.” His eyes would hold mine a moment too long, and I’d quickly look away.
Nathan had it all—a successful career, confidence, and Priscilla, his elegant wife who would sometimes walk through the office wearing designer clothes that probably cost more than my rent. I told myself, No way, Amy. Don’t be that cliché—the single woman crushing on her married boss. So I buried those feelings deep.
Until one night changed everything.
He knocked on my door, tired-looking and serious. “Can I close this door?”
I saved my work and nodded. “Sure. Everything okay?”
Nathan slumped into the chair across from me, rubbing his face with his hands. “Not really. Priscilla’s leaving me.”
My heart did a little jump, even though I told myself to stop feeling that way. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s been coming for a long time. We’ve been living separate lives under the same roof for months.”
Then he said something that made my heart race. “She told me I care more about this company than I ever cared about our marriage.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “You’ve built something amazing here.”
“Have I?” His eyes locked on mine with a look so intense I could barely breathe. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m just running in place.”
We talked for hours until the cleaning crew came in. Something changed that night—something I couldn’t explain but felt deep inside.
“Thanks for listening, Amy. You’re special. I don’t know why I never saw it before.” He squeezed my hands gently before leaving.
I should have been careful. But when Nathan started dropping by more often, bringing me coffee from the fancy shop around the corner, asking my opinion on things beyond work, I let myself believe in us.
Three weeks later, Nathan asked me to dinner.
“Just colleagues,” he said with a smile that said otherwise. “I could use the company.”
One dinner became two, then three. By the fourth, his hand found mine across the table.
“I’m falling for you, Amy. And it scares me.”
My heart pounded. “Are you serious? What about Priscilla?”
“We’re filing for divorce next month. It’s over. Has been for a while.”
A month later, he wasn’t hiding anything. He’d brush my hand during meetings, invite me into executive conversations, treat me like I mattered. The office noticed. Of course, they did.
Melissa from accounting cornered me one day. “So… you and Nathan, huh?”
I busied myself at the coffee machine. “Yeah, we’re seeing each other.”
“Brave move,” she said with a sneer. “Especially while his divorce isn’t final.”
I wanted to explain that it was different—that we connected over books, dreams, real feelings. That when Nathan talked about the future, I was in it.
“Move in with me, Amy. Just for a while. See how it feels.” Nathan said one night, tangled up in his sheets in his swanky downtown apartment. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
For two weeks, life felt perfect.
He made breakfast, we planned weekends, talked about trips. He even mentioned kids casually, like it was already decided.
“I’ve never felt this way before, Amy. With Priscilla, everything was calculated. This feels real.”
I believed him. I believed every word.
Then, one Tuesday afternoon, everything crashed down.
Nathan called me up to his office. His voice was cold and distant.
I walked in. He was staring out the window.
“Priscilla and I talked last night. We’re trying again.”
The world blurred. “What? What do you mean?”
He didn’t meet my eyes. “It’s complicated. We have history, shared investments. I packed your things. My driver will take you home tonight.”
Just like that? Like the past months were a lie?
“Look at me,” I demanded.
When he finally did, I saw no guilt—only impatience.
“I thought…” I couldn’t finish. What had I thought? That I was special? That I was loved?
“HR will handle the awkwardness. No need to make it personal. Let’s just move on,” he said like we were discussing a spreadsheet error.
I walked out with nothing left but pride.
That night, Marcus from design called me.
“We’re not close, but…” he said gently. “You okay? You looked destroyed today.”
“Fine,” I said bitterly.
“No, you’re not. Listen… I overheard Nathan on the phone with his golf buddy. He talked about ‘giving Priscilla a scare’ and ‘showing her what she’d be missing.’ Something about ‘that editor who’s always had a thing for Nathan.’”
My heart broke all over again.
“He never filed for divorce, Amy. I checked. Maybe they planned it. I don’t know. I just wanted you to know.”
I screamed into my pillow until my throat was raw.
The next day, something inside me hardened. I did my makeup perfectly, put on my best dress, and walked into the office ten minutes late—just enough for everyone to be at their desks.
Nathan was there with department heads—and there was Priscilla, elegant as ever, enjoying pastries.
I walked right up to them, forcing a ghost of a smile.
“Good morning, everyone,” I said loudly. “I have news.”
Nathan’s eyes snapped to me.
I pulled out a small plastic stick and held it up. “I’m pregnant.”
Silence. The hum of the HVAC was the loudest sound.
“AMY??” Nathan gasped. “Are you crazy? Let’s talk privately.”
“Why? I thought transparency was important,” I said, looking at Priscilla.
Priscilla’s face was frozen, eyes moving between the test and Nathan’s angry face.
“This is ridiculous,” Nathan spat. “You’re making a scene.”
“Nothing? Is that what I am to you now? NOTHING?”
Something inside him cracked.
“You want the truth? Fine! I never loved you! I used you to scare Priscilla—to show her what she’d lose if she left me!”
Gasps filled the room. Priscilla’s knuckles turned white gripping the pastry tray.
“I wasn’t about to let her walk away with half my company!” He jabbed a finger at her. “Half of everything I built!”
I almost felt sorry for him. He revealed himself completely, and didn’t even realize it.
Priscilla set down the tray and silently walked to the elevator.
I followed, ignoring the stares and the hand Marcus tried to place on my arm.
Weeks passed in a blur. I took sick leave, ignored calls and texts.
Rumors flew—people quit, clients left, Nathan was a wreck. Late to work, early to leave, snapping at anyone who asked questions.
Then, on a rainy Sunday, the doorbell rang.
Priscilla stood there, looking stunning in jeans and a simple sweater—more elegant than ever.
“May I come in?”
I stepped aside.
She sat on my couch, refusing tea.
“I filed for divorce,” she said. “And I’m taking control of the company.”
“How?” I asked, stunned.
“Our prenup had a morality clause. Nathan worried about my ‘indiscretions’ but never thought about his own.” She smiled. “Turns out I own 51% of the shares. My family’s money funded the startup.”
I was speechless.
“Are you really pregnant?” she asked suddenly.
“No,” I admitted. “I bought that test that morning.”
She laughed. “Brilliant!”
She stood, serious again. “I restructured the team. Nathan’s out. I need someone who knows editorial, has integrity, and isn’t afraid to speak truth to power.”
She held out her hand. “Come back. Director position. Double your salary. Report to me.”
“Why me?”
“Because you were brave enough to burn it all down when you found the truth. That’s the person I want beside me rebuilding this company.”
Six months later, the company was thriving under Priscilla’s leadership.
She and I built an unexpected friendship, born from shared pain and respect.
One day, I ran into Nathan at a café.
He looked broken—no swagger, just slumped shoulders and nervous eyes.
“Amy?” he said quietly. “You look… good.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t invite him to sit.
“I heard the company’s doing well. Priscilla was always the smarter one.”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “She was.”
He looked down. “I’m sorry. For everything. I wasn’t myself.”
“No,” I said, gathering my things. “You were exactly yourself. That was the problem.”
As I walked away, I felt nothing but calm satisfaction.
Some people use others like pawns in their game.
But pawns can cross the board and become queens.
And sometimes, it’s the pawns who say… CHECKMATE.