When The Heiress Uncovers Her Boss' Nasty Games, She Strikes Back!

The moment I stepped into work in my mini skirt, my supervisor’s unsettling eyes locked onto me.

With a smirk tugging at his lips, he said, “It’s getting chilly; I wouldn’t want you to get cold. How about warming up on my lap?”

“My kidneys are aching. How about you come to give them a little tap, sweetheart?”

Using my black belt skills in Taekwondo, I kicked him back a good two meters. Yet, he had the nerve to twist the story in front of everyone, saying, “I love my wife and kids. I can’t accept your advances, no matter how bold you are.”

Now, everyone at the company thought I was using my looks to move up in the company. And that scoundrel? He’d played this game before! But I wasn’t about to hold back anymore.

As a true heiress, it was time for some girl power to teach this pervert a lesson!

—

“Well, Dixie, wearing a mini skirt and showing some leg today, are we? Come over and sit on my lap.”

Thinking I had misheard, I paused mid-coffee prep and turned around, stunned.

There was Declan Wright, the forty-something supervisor, lounging on the break room sofa, patting his thigh and giving me a clear signal to come over.

He grinned, the kind of smirk that sent a chill down my spine. “Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s getting colder, and I’m just concerned about a delicate young lady like you catching a chill. Come here; I’ll warm you up.”

To me, it was nothing short of bewildering. The same supervisor who had once been all serious and precise, the one who had trained me and earned the respect of the company’s upper management, had shown his true colors in just four days of working together.

In a flurry of nerves, I grabbed my coffee cup and turned to escape the break room, but as I hurried past, Declan’s fingers wrapped around my hand, holding me in place.

"You girls always act so pure," he sneered, his middle-aged voice dripping with disdain. "A new guy picks you up every day. How about I take you home today?"

Out of nowhere, a cold realization hit me. The thought crept in that I felt like I was being followed to and from work lately, and it seemed all too likely that he was responsible.

He wasn’t mistaken. Over the past four days, I’d found myself with men of all ages, from a distinguished 65-year-old to a fit 21-year-old, each giving me a ride. Some had a fatherly demeanor, others were young and muscular, but someone was always new. He must have spotted me with these men and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Not wanting to make waves as the new employee, I subtly pulled my hand free and whispered, “Please, show some respect.”

He seemed lost in his own thoughts, muttering, “Oh, I get it. It’s the office; better keep it low-key.”

With a crooked smile, he turned, bent over, and stuck his rear toward me. “My kidneys hurt; how about you give them a tap?”

I fought to keep my anger buried deep, my voice unwavering as I responded, “Go home and let your wife handle that.”

He sneered, a wicked glint in his eye. “Come on, don’t be shy. You’re already juggling so many men; what’s one more?”

Enough was enough. If I stayed silent now, I’d be letting him walk all over me. Dropping my careful tone, I smiled sweetly, “Are you ready?”

“Come on, baby!” Declan’s smirk deepened, his tongue running over his lips as he tilted his hips in a taunting gesture.

Placing my coffee aside, I raised my right foot and, with the precision of a Taekwondo strike, delivered a solid kick straight to his backside. He shot backward, landing with a thud two meters away, groaning in pain. The sound brought my colleagues rushing into the break room to see what had caused the commotion.

I lifted my coffee, a smug grin playing on my lips, ready to spill the beans on what had just gone down, until Declan, with his usual flair, twisted the entire story, flipping it on its head in a heartbeat.