At my boss’s barbecue, the smell of grilled meat and sweet barbecue sauce filled the air, mixing with the sounds of laughter and music. I stepped through Jill’s front gate, my first company barbecue in the three months I’d been working there. Jill was known for her parties, and from the looks of it, she was living up to the hype.
The late summer sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over her well-maintained lawn. My coworkers were scattered across the yard, sitting in camp chairs, laughing, and balancing paper plates piled high with food. It was a casual, fun atmosphere.
“Liz! You made it!” Jill waved from the grill, flipping burgers with a spatula in hand. She wore a bright yellow apron that said “Queen of the Grill” in sparkling letters, and it was a perfect match for her bold, bubbly personality.
I made my way through the crowd, exchanging quick hellos. Tom from accounting handed me a beer, and I dodged Karen from HR, who was eager to rope me into a conversation about her latest multi-level marketing scheme.
The food was amazing: burgers sizzling, potato salad with fresh dill, and Sandra’s famous seven-layer dip — which I’d heard about from everyone but never tried.
“Perfect timing!” Jill exclaimed as I reached her side. “The second batch is almost ready. How’s everything going?”
“Great,” I said, grabbing a plate. “And by the way, the quarterly reports you asked for are almost done.”
Jill laughed, shaking her head. “No work talk, Liz! This is a party!” She flipped another burger with practiced ease. “Oh, and my husband Mark just got here.”
I turned to look where she was pointing. A tall man walked through the gate, looking every bit the financial advisor he was. Crisp button-down shirt, neat haircut, expensive watch — the whole package. Someone had mentioned he usually arrived late due to work commitments.
A photographer from marketing snapped pictures, capturing candid moments for the company newsletter. Mark walked over to Jill and wrapped her in a warm hug as the camera clicked.
It was a perfect moment, until Mark’s gaze shifted over Jill’s shoulder and met mine.
He froze. His smile disappeared, replaced by something intense — something I couldn’t quite understand. His eyes locked on mine as if he’d seen a ghost, and for a long, uncomfortable second, it felt like I was staring into the eyes of a long-lost lover.
The moment stretched and stretched, making the air between us thick and heavy. Something changed in the atmosphere. It was subtle at first, but I could feel it — like a shadow passing over the sun. From then on, I noticed him watching me across the party, his gaze not just a casual glance but something much more intense.
It was unnerving. Every time I looked up, there he was, staring at me. His eyes held recognition, but it was more than that — it was like he was looking at me with longing, confusion, maybe even desperation. But that didn’t make sense. I’d only just started working here. We’d never crossed paths before.
“Want another beer?” Sandra appeared suddenly, making me jump.
“Yes,” I said, maybe too eagerly, needing a distraction.
I was about to follow her to the cooler when a hand grabbed my elbow.
“Hi, Liz.”
I froze. Mark was standing so close I could smell his cologne, clean and sharp. How did he know my name? I was the new hire — we’d never met before today.
He leaned in, his voice low and urgent. “Meet me behind the house in 10 minutes.”
I should have said no. I should have found Jill. But curiosity got the best of me. I nodded without thinking, my heart racing.
He vanished into the crowd, and I stood there, plate empty, mind spinning. What was going on?
Nine minutes later, I found myself walking around the back of the house, trying to make sense of the situation. Maybe this was just some weird work thing, I thought. Maybe Jill had put him up to it. Maybe he was going to talk to me about a promotion, or… I didn’t know. But something about the whole thing felt off.
When I turned the corner, Mark was already there, pacing in the shadows. When he saw me, his face flooded with relief — but there was something else too, something dark, like desperation.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said, his voice tight. “Look, we need a cover story. I didn’t realize you worked for my wife, but she doesn’t need to know about us.”
I blinked. “What?”
Mark stepped closer, lowering his voice. “We’re having an affair, Liz.”
I couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “We’re what?”
“This isn’t funny,” he snapped, his face serious now. “You knowing Jill complicates things. I don’t know if I can handle seeing you at these things, but we can make it work.”
He stepped forward, closing the space between us, and I instinctively put my hand up to stop him. “Whoa, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’ve never met you before.”
“Don’t play dumb, Liz,” he muttered, pulling out his phone. His fingers moved fast across the screen, and he thrust it toward me. “Look.”
I took the phone, and my stomach dropped when I saw the screen. There were hundreds of messages — all from me. Well, not from me, but someone using my picture and my name.
I scrolled through the messages in disbelief: months of inside jokes, flirting, and eventually… a lot more than just flirting.
“This isn’t possible,” I whispered, feeling like I was going to faint. “I didn’t write these. We’ve never…”
“Liz, please,” Mark said, his voice pleading. “I know you’re scared, but—”
“No, you don’t get it,” I interrupted. “You’ve been catfished. This isn’t me.”
He stared at me as if I’d completely lost my mind, but I could see his confusion starting to change to suspicion. I looked at the messages again, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
Then it hit me — something from months ago, when I made a profile on that dating app as a joke. I never used it, just set it up and forgot about it. But clearly, someone else had. And I knew exactly who it was.
“Oh my God,” I muttered, pulling out my phone with shaking hands. “This can’t be happening.”
I dialed a number, my heart hammering. The moment she picked up, I said, “You need to get here right now. I’m sending you the address.”
I texted the location, still shaking, and told her to meet me behind the house. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe she’d do this to me. But it made sense. It had to be her.
Twenty minutes later, she rounded the corner of the house, and when she saw Mark, she froze. Her face said it all. She was caught.
“Mom,” I said, my voice calm despite the storm raging inside me. “Have you been texting him from my account for the past nine months? The account I set up as a joke last year?”
Silence. My mother’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Mark was staring at her, his face twisted in disbelief.
“All those times you visited, and I saw you smiling at your phone, constantly texting… you were chatting with him, using my profile, weren’t you?”
“I… it was just texts!” My mom burst out. “We never met in person. It wasn’t real!”
“Wasn’t real?” Mark’s voice cracked. “We talked every day. You told me you loved me. I thought—”
“He’s married!” I yelled. “And you stole my identity! How could you?”
Just then, we heard Jill’s voice, sharp and cold.
“Mark, get out,” she said, her voice unwavering.
“Jill, I can explain—”
“No,” she said firmly, cutting him off. “Everything in this house belongs to me. You pack your things and leave.”
“But I thought—”
“You thought you were having an affair with my employee, who turns out to be my employee’s mother, pretending to be her daughter.” Jill’s voice trembled with controlled anger, but her hands were shaking. “Now, pack your things. And leave.”
The next morning, I typed out my resignation letter — short, professional, and final. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t deal with the whispers, the looks.
As I hit send, my phone lit up with a new message from my mom — her fifteenth since the night before. I deleted it without even reading it.
Some things, no matter how many apologies, can’t be fixed. Some betrayals cut too deep to heal.
I closed my laptop and glanced at my phone one last time before turning it off. 16 messages now. Each one a desperate plea for forgiveness that wouldn’t change a thing.
I had only been at this job for three months, but somehow, I had ended up destroying my boss’s marriage. Sometimes, the only option is to walk away and try not to look back.
Here’s another story I have for you: I thought Austin was the perfect man, a widower raising his daughter, grounded by tragedy. But everything unraveled the day his daughter whispered a chilling secret: her mother wasn’t dead.
