Checkmate: The Day I Beat the Player at His Own Game
At 35, love wasn’t on my to-do list. I worked at a publishing company as a senior editor after six years of hard work—arriving early, staying late, barely taking breaks. My life was quiet, almost too quiet. Just me, a few book drafts, and Hemingway, my moody cat who meowed like a critic every time I missed his dinner.
Weekends? Predictable. Coffee. Laundry. Maybe a glass of wine while rereading old novels. My heart? Locked up tightly ever since David, my ex, ditched me for his college sweetheart. Trust wasn’t something I gave away easily.
And then there was Nathan—my boss.
He had the corner office with glass walls and a view of the city that made you feel like you were floating. Forty-two years old, tall, confident, and unfairly handsome with salt-and-pepper hair. When he smiled, it was like the sun came out inside the conference room.
“Amy,” he’d say, leaning against my office doorway at 5:30 p.m., jacket tossed casually over his shoulder, “burning the midnight oil again?”
I’d glance up from my screen, shove my glasses up, and try not to smile. “Just finishing up!”
“You work too hard,” he’d say, his eyes holding mine a beat longer than they should. “Don’t forget to have a life.”
Easy for him to say. He had everything. A sharp career, confidence that could charm snakes, and Priscilla—his elegant wife who occasionally showed up at the office in outfits that probably cost more than my entire monthly paycheck.
I wasn’t about to fall into that trap—the “single woman secretly in love with her married boss” cliché. Nope. I shoved those fluttery feelings deep down where they couldn’t breathe.
Until everything changed.
One evening, the office was dark and silent except for my desk lamp. That’s when Nathan walked in.
“Can I close this door?” he asked quietly.
“Sure… is everything okay?” I asked, saving the file I was working on.
He sat down, looking worn out. “Priscilla’s leaving me.”
My heart did a strange little jump. I hated myself for it. “Oh. I’m… sorry.”
“Don’t be. We’ve been living separate lives under one roof. It was only a matter of time.”
He sighed and rubbed his face. “She said I love this company more than I ever loved her.”
“That’s not fair,” I replied gently. “You’ve built something amazing here.”
Nathan looked up at me, eyes intense. “Sometimes I wonder if I built anything at all… or if I just kept running in place.”
We talked for hours. About dreams, regrets, and everything in between. The cleaning crew came and went. When he stood up to leave, he gently took my hands and said, “Thanks for listening, Amy. You’re special… I don’t know how I missed it before.”
That moment should’ve been my red flag. But instead, it felt like the beginning of something real.
Three weeks later, he asked me out.
“Just dinner. As colleagues,” he said with a smile that was way more than friendly. “I could use the company.”
Dinner became two dinners. Then three. By the fourth, his hand found mine across the table.
“I’m falling for you, Amy. And honestly? It terrifies me.”
My heart pounded. “What about Priscilla?”
He reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “We’re filing next month. It’s over, Amy. It’s been over for a long time.”
From that moment, nothing was secret. He held my hand in meetings. He made sure I was invited to executive lunches. His confidence in me grew—and so did the office gossip.
Melissa from accounting cornered me in the break room.
“So… you and Nathan?” she asked with a raised brow.
I focused on my coffee. “We’re seeing each other.”
“Bold move,” she said with a knowing smirk. “Especially with his divorce still in limbo.”
I wanted to scream, It’s real! He talks about books with me. About dreams. About us. This wasn’t just an affair—it was a future.
One night, while lying together in his sleek downtown apartment, he said, “Move in with me. Just for a while. Let’s see how it feels.”
“You’re sure?” I whispered.
“Never been more sure.”
Two blissful weeks followed.
He made breakfast in boxers, we laughed about grocery lists, planned weekend getaways, and even talked about having kids—casually, but still. He said things like:
“With Priscilla, everything was calculated. But with you… this is real.”
I believed him.
God help me, I really believed him.
Until Tuesday afternoon.
I was at my desk, buried in catalog proofs, when Nathan called.
“Hey… can you come up to my office?” His voice was cold, distant.
I stepped inside his office. He was staring out the window, stiff as a statue.
“What’s wrong?”
He turned, and something in his eyes was… gone.
“Priscilla and I talked last night. We’re… going to try again.”
The room started spinning. “What?”
“It’s complicated, Amy. We have history. Shared investments. We’re going to give it another shot.”
“Are you serious right now?!”
He wouldn’t even meet my eyes. “I had your things packed. My driver will take you home tonight.”
“LOOK AT ME, NATHAN!” I shouted. “At least have the guts to look me in the eye.”
He finally did—but there was no guilt. Just… boredom.
“I thought I meant something to you,” I whispered.
“HR will smooth things out. Let’s handle this like professionals.”
I walked out, face burning, holding onto the only thing I had left: pride.
That night, Marcus from the design team called me.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
“Not really.”
He hesitated. “You should know something. I overheard Nathan in the executive bathroom… talking to his golf buddy.”
And what he told me made my stomach drop.
“He said he used you to scare Priscilla. Said something like, ‘She needed to see what she’d lose if she left me.’ And that ‘Amy always had a thing for me.’”
My heart didn’t break—it cracked open into something angrier.
“He never filed for divorce, Amy. I checked.”
I hung up and screamed into a pillow so hard my throat hurt.
The next morning, I woke up different.
Colder. Sharper.
I put on makeup like armor, picked my best dress, and walked into the office ten minutes late. Everyone was at their desks.
And in the kitchenette? Nathan. Surrounded by execs. And Priscilla, calm as ever with a croissant in hand.
I walked right up, calm as ice.
“Good morning, everyone,” I said clearly. “I just wanted to share some news.”
Nathan’s head whipped around.
I reached into my purse, pulled out a plastic stick, and held it up.
“I’m pregnant.”
Silence. The air froze.
“AMY?!” Nathan choked. “Are you insane? We need to talk. NOW.”
“Why? Don’t you always say transparency is important?” I replied with a smile.
Priscilla went stiff. Her eyes flicked between me, Nathan, and the test.
“This is ridiculous!” Nathan hissed. “You’re causing a scene over nothing!”
“Nothing?! Is that what I was to you?!”
His mask cracked. “Fine! You want the truth? I NEVER loved you! You were just a way to wake Priscilla up! I wasn’t going to let her take half my company!”
Gasps. Literal gasps.
Priscilla slowly set down her tray, eyes unreadable. Then she walked out without a word.
I followed, leaving Nathan in the ruins of his reputation.
Weeks passed.
I took sick leave. The office fell into chaos. Staff quit. Clients pulled out. Nathan became a ghost—showing up late, snapping at everyone, desperate to hold it together.
Then one rainy Sunday, my doorbell rang.
Priscilla.
She stood there in jeans and a sweater, still managing to look like royalty.
“May I come in?”
I stepped aside.
She sat down, ignored the tea I offered. “I filed for divorce. And I’m taking control of the company.”
“What? How?!”
She smiled. “Morality clause. Nathan wrote it to keep me in check—never thought he’d need it. Plus, I own 51% of the company. My family funded the launch.”
I blinked, speechless.
She looked at me seriously. “Are you really pregnant?”
I shook my head. “No. Bought that test at the drugstore.”
She laughed. “Brilliant.”
Then she stood and offered her hand.
“I need someone I can trust. Someone with guts, vision, and honesty. Director position. Double salary. You in?”
“Why me?”
“Because you stood up. You told the truth. That’s the kind of woman I want beside me.”
Six months later, the company was booming.
Priscilla and I weren’t just boss and employee—we became friends. Real ones. Bonded by betrayal and survival.
One day, I ran into Nathan at a dingy café. He looked older, thinner, tired.
“Amy?” he said softly. “You look… good.”
“Thanks.”
“Heard the company’s thriving. Guess Priscilla really was the smart one.”
“Yes. She was.”
“I’m sorry. For everything. I wasn’t myself.”
I smiled coldly. “No. You were exactly yourself. That was the problem.”
I left without looking back.
Because sometimes? The pawn makes it to the other side of the board.
And when she does… she becomes a queen.
Checkmate.
