Laura believed that her writing could change the world. But reality turned out differently, and her boss pushed her to dig up dirt on famous people. Desperate to save her job, she disguises herself as a cleaner to get compromising details on a millionaire. However, she uncovers a life-changing truth in the process.
The office hummed with the familiar sounds of keyboards clicking, phones ringing, and the occasional burst of laughter from a distant corner.
Laura sat at her desk, papers scattered around her, but her focus was elsewhere.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Reggie, the editor-in-chief, stepped out of his office.
His eyes scanned the room until they landed on her. He looked tired—more tired than usual—and his face carried the weight of disappointment.
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“Laura… come to my office for a minute,” he said. His tone was calm but firm. He held the door open, waiting for her to follow.
Taking a deep breath, Laura rose from her chair and walked toward Reggie’s office, each step feeling heavier than the last.
“Sit down,” Reggie said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
“Reggie, I was just about to tell you about a new article I’m working on,” she began, trying to sound upbeat. “It’s about the chemical pollution in a nearby lake—”
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“That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss with you,” Reggie cut in, sighing as he sank into his chair. He folded his hands and looked directly at her.
“Laura, pollution in forests, lakes, the extinction of… what are they called again?”
“California condors,” Laura said, her tone sharp.
“Condors, yes.” He nodded.
“People don’t care about this stuff, Laura. They don’t read it. And it’s not just my opinion—the data backs it up.”
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Laura’s brow furrowed. “But people should care, Reggie! This isn’t just about nature; it affects our health, our communities—everything!”
Reggie leaned forward, his voice hardening.
“It doesn’t bring in money. We all need to eat. Salaries need to be paid, and I can’t pay someone who isn’t generating revenue.”
Reggie softened his tone, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples.
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“I like you, Laura. You’re talented, and you care about your work. That’s why I’m trying to help you.”
“How?”
Reggie slid a photograph across the desk. It showed an elderly man with a stern expression.
“This is Mr. Weiss,” Reggie said. “You know who he is, don’t you?”
“A wealthy man,” Laura murmured, studying the image.
“The wealthiest man in the city,” Reggie corrected.
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“Rumor has it he’s been spending tens of thousands on private investigators. Years of it.”
“And?” Laura asked, confused. “It’s his money. Why does that matter?”
“Why would an old man need private investigators?” Reggie leaned back, a sly smile forming.
“Mistresses, scandals, maybe even crimes. Find anything—and I mean anything—about his expenditures, and spin it into a story. This could be the article that saves your career.”
Laura hesitated. “And if I can’t?”
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Reggie’s smile faded. “Then I’d recommend you start looking for another job.”
The cold air nipped at Laura’s cheeks as she stood in front of the grand estate, its towering gates and sprawling lawn exuding wealth and history.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and rang the doorbell.
The heavy wooden door creaked open slowly, revealing an elderly man. His figure was slightly hunched, his face marked by deep lines of exhaustion.
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Dark circles framed his eyes, and his scruffy beard looked like it hadn’t been groomed in days.
“Good morning, Mr. Weiss,” Laura said with a polite smile that she hoped masked her nerves.
“My name is Laura. We spoke on the phone about the cleaning position.”
“Good morning,” Mr. Weiss replied, his voice quiet and tinged with weariness. “Come in. Forgive the mess; there’s plenty of work to keep you busy.”
Laura stepped inside, her eyes widening as she took in the space.
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A thick layer of dust covered the once-pristine surfaces, cobwebs adorned the corners, and books and papers were scattered haphazardly across the rooms.
“As you can see,” Mr. Weiss continued, “I really need the help. Start wherever you’d like. I’ll be in my study.”
With that, he turned and shuffled away, closing the study door behind him.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Weiss,” Laura called after him, but he didn’t respond.
Through the brief crack before the door shut, Laura glimpsed his desk. It was cluttered with papers, photographs, and what looked like old receipts.
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Her heart raced—this could be where the secrets were buried.
Laura spent the next hour cleaning the house, her movements mechanical as her mind churned with plans.
Finally, she approached the study door and knocked softly. “Mr. Weiss, I’m coming in to clean—”
“No!” His voice was startlingly sharp as the door opened just enough for him to peer out.
“The study doesn’t need cleaning. Thank you for your work today. If you’ve finished the other rooms, you’re free to leave.”
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“There are still a couple of rooms left,” Laura replied, feigning disappointment, but her mind was already racing.
The study was off-limits, and she was more determined than ever to find out why.
Laura crouched near the sofa, her heart racing.
She glanced toward the study door, still closed, as her mind raced through the plan one more time.
It wasn’t elegant, but it might work. Taking a deep breath, she screamed, her voice sharp and filled with faux terror.
“Aaaaah! Mr. Weiss! Help!”
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The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Moments later, Mr. Weiss appeared, his face a mask of alarm.
“What happened?” he demanded, clutching the edge of the doorway.
“There’s a rat!” Laura cried, pointing under the couch with a trembling hand. “It just ran under there! Please, I can’t stand rats—they terrify me!”
“A rat?” Mr. Weiss frowned, his brow furrowing.
“That’s impossible.” He grabbed a broom leaning against the wall and knelt to peer under the couch.
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“Where? I don’t see anything. Did it run out?” he asked, poking around with the broom handle.
“I… I don’t know!” Laura stammered, backing toward the hallway. “Just keep looking. I’ll hide in the kitchen!”
Mr. Weiss grumbled but continued his search, muttering to himself about how unlikely it was.
As soon as he was fully distracted, Laura moved quickly. She slipped into his study, closing the door as quietly as possible.
The room was dim, illuminated only by a small desk lamp. Papers were strewn across the desk—receipts, handwritten notes, and photographs.
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Laura’s journalist instincts kicked in as she pulled a small camera from her pocket and took pictures.
Her hands trembled as she worked quickly, her breath shallow.
Then she saw it. Among the scattered documents was a detailed sketch of a medallion.
She froze, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Reaching for her necklace, she pulled the small pendant from under her blouse and held it next to the sketch. They were identical.
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“Laura.”
The low, heavy voice sent a chill down her spine. She turned to see Mr. Weiss standing in the doorway, his face shadowed.
“I told you not to come in here,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of anger and pain.
Her hand instinctively clutched the pendant. Mr. Weiss’s eyes widened as he stepped closer, his gaze fixed on the pendant.
“Where did you get that pendant?” he asked, his voice trembling. He reached out, his hand shaking as he touched the necklace.
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“Tell me! Where?”
“It was my mother’s,” Laura snapped, pulling back.
“Your mother…” Mr. Weiss whispered, his face pale. “Was her name Dora?”
Laura’s breath caught. “Yes. How do you know that?”
Mr. Weiss’s knees buckled, and he sank to the floor. Tears welled in his eyes as his voice broke.
“Dora… my sweet Dora. She had a daughter…” He looked up at Laura, his expression filled with anguish. “Forgive me. Please forgive me.”
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Laura staggered back, her hand gripping the desk for support. “You knew my mother?”
“I’m your father,” Mr. Weiss said, his voice raw with emotion.
The words hit her like a blow. “You left her!” she cried, tears streaming down her face.
“You abandoned her—and me! She struggled every day because of you!”
“I know,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“I was a coward. I was afraid of responsibility, afraid of being a father. I’ve regretted it every day. I tried to find her, but she cut all ties. Tell me—where is she now?”
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“She’s gone,” Laura spat bitterly.
“She died ten years ago. She got sick, and it’s your fault. She fought so hard to survive, but she was alone because you weren’t there.”
Mr. Weiss crumpled, his body wracked with sobs.
“I never stopped looking. I never stopped loving her. I’m so sorry, Laura. I’m so sorry.”
Laura stared at him, her chest heaving with anger and pain. She shook her head, grabbing her bag.
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“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice trembling as she turned and fled the room.
The sound of his sobs followed her as she ran through the grand house and out into the cold night.
Later, Laura sat in the newsroom, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
The photographs lay beside her, their edges curling slightly under the pressure of her hand.
On her screen, the half-written article glared back at her. This story would blow up—it would ruin Mr. Weiss’s name, tarnish his legacy, and save her job.
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But as she stared at the photos, her chest tightened. Anger and doubt battled in her mind.
Could she really destroy him after everything she had learned? He wasn’t just a stranger anymore. He was her father.
Summoning her courage, Laura stood and walked into Reggie’s office. Her breath felt heavier with each step.
“Reggie, can I come in?”
“Of course,” Reggie said, leaning forward with anticipation. “Please tell me you’ve got something good.”
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Laura placed a photograph on his desk. “The article is ready. I can send it over now.”
Reggie’s eyes gleamed as he examined the picture. “This is perfect, Laura! A millionaire’s dirty secrets—this is going to be huge!”
Laura’s hands trembled. Reggie’s words felt like nails on a chalkboard.
“No,” she said suddenly, grabbing the photo back. Without thinking, she ripped it into shreds and tossed them into the air.
“What are you doing?” Reggie roared, his face turning red.
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“I won’t ruin his life. If that’s what this job takes, I don’t want it,” Laura said, her voice steady.
“You’re fired!” he shouted.
Laura walked out, her head held high. She had lost her job, but she had found something far more valuable—her integrity.
And for the first time in years, she had a family worth fighting for.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: “All men are liars.” With these words, Violet ended her radio program. Her life experiences and the countless stories she heard from her listeners had proven it. But, a date with a coworker made her question her belief. After a call from a stranger, she was convinced she had been right all along.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
My daughter and Son In Law shamed me for getting a tattoo at 75. I decided to give them a lesson
Elis, 75, made the audacious and surprising decision to do something on a bright morning in New Orleans. She’d been thinking about getting a tattoo for a long now. She desired to relive her youth and greet life with renewed energy. Thus, she entered a tattoo parlor, selected a delicate pattern that represented her strength and passion for life, and had herself inked. She was so happy with the artwork on her arm that she experienced a surge of joy. She declared to the world that age was merely a number.
The Unexpected Reaction
Elis threw a modest party for her family, excited to show off her new tattoo. She hoped they would respond favorably, imagining their astonishment. Nevertheless, her daughter’s face contorted in disapproval the moment she saw the tattoo.”What in the world were you thinking, Mom?” she cried out. “Getting a tattoo at your age is not only inappropriate—it’s also embarrassing. Not some disobedient adolescent, but a respectable grandmother is what you’re meant to be. People will make fun of you because it seems stupid.Just For Illustrative UseA twinge of pain shot through Elis, but worse was to come. She laughed uncontrollably at her son-in-law, who she had always loved like her own son. He laughed till he was almost unsteady on his feet, tears rolling down his cheeks.”Mom, that’s hilarious! Between chuckles, he managed to ask, “Really, a tattoo at your age?” Elis’s heart fell. The thing that stung more than the words was the vile mockery. Their responses hurt her profoundly and made her feel ashamed.
Organizing the Ideal Refund
Elis made the decision to take her grief and use it as fuel, refusing to allow their mocking remarks and harsh comments define her. She remembered how badly her son-in-law had hurt her; a man who relied solely on her daughter and dreamed of becoming a millionaire. This was the last straw. Elis decided to impart to him a knowledge that he would never forget.Elis spent the next two days carefully organizing her retaliation. She made the decision to reveal her son-in-law’s apathy and lack of drive in a way that would shock and enlighten him. She made contact with some of her acquaintances who were talented in other fields, one of them being an outstanding actor.
The Day of Judgment
Elis carried out her plan two days later. This time, she pretended to need assistance with some home maintenance when she extended an invitation to her relatives. Reluctant to face the real world of employment, her son-in-law finally consented to attend.Elis was waiting for them when they got there, carrying a toolbox and a list of things that needed to get done. She gave her son-in-law the list, and his expression was puzzled.He was perplexed and questioned, “What’s this?”Elis remarked kindly, “I thought you could help out with these tasks.” “After all, you constantly boast about your handyness.”Just For Illustrative UseHe took a quick look at the list, which included jobs like rewiring a lamp, replacing a broken fence, and repairing the leaky faucet. Glancing around, he realized that he was incapable of doing any of these responsibilities.Elis was about to object when the actor, who was dressed like a professional contractor, showed there. After introducing himself, he started by making each task appear simple as he demonstrated how to complete it. The son-in-law, unable to keep up, watched, looking uncomfortable and ashamed as he fumbled with the tools.
An Acquired Knowledge
As the day went on, it became evident that the son-in-law was completely unable to finish even the most basic responsibilities. Elis observed with a conflicted sense of relief and sympathy. As her daughter witnessed her husband’s incapacity, she started to see how much she had been supporting his sloth.Elis’s strategy was a complete success. Her son-in-law was worn out, ashamed, and forced to face his lack of practical abilities by the end of the day. With a composed yet assertive tone, Elis drew him aside and remarked, “You laughed at me for wanting to feel young and vibrant again. But now look at you. Perhaps it’s time you matured and began accepting accountability for your actions in life.Her remarks had an impact. The incident humbled the son-in-law, who expressed regret for his actions. He committed to working hard to get better and more independent. Elis took his apology and told him that she would not put up with any more mistreatment.
Going Forward: Elis observed a shift in her son-in-law during the ensuing weeks. He started to actively work on improving himself and took on greater duties. Her daughter also began to value her mother’s fortitude and self-reliance.Elis, on the other hand, kept living her life with the same carefree attitude that inspired her to get the tattoo. She resumed going to social gatherings, took up a local fitness class, and even started dating once more. She demonstrated to herself and everyone around her that living life to the fullest was possible at any age.Elis’s audacious move had not only lifted her spirits but also resulted in a much-needed shift inside her family. She smiled every time she saw her tattoo, being reminded of the bravery and strength it took to defend herself and impart an important lesson in the process.
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