My Online Boyfriend Is My Boss!

My online boyfriend was really good at tearing people down.

Especially my hated boss. He could rip the man's entire existence apart without ever repeating the same insult.

Then, one fateful evening, my thumb slipped.

It hit the video call button.

He answered instantly.

And my boss's annoyingly handsome face filled the screen.

"..." I was speechless.

Babe, wanna game?

My online boyfriend sent that message while I was still chained to my desk, drowning in meaningless overtime.

So I texted back, Can't. Still at the office.

Why are you working so late?

Poor baby,I made a face and replied, My manager made us stay. Honestly, there's zero actual work.

He sent back a single question mark.

My frustration was boiling over. I needed to vent. My thumbs flew across the screen.

The big boss is here today. You know, the one I can't stand?

Our manager, trying to suck up, is making us all stay late just to look good.

Tell me he's not insane?

This time, my boyfriend filled the chat with a string of question marks.

No your manager's actually lost the plot, right?

How does forced overtime prove he's a good leader? It just proves he's useless at planning.

Seriously, that's the most pathetic attempt at brown-nosing I've ever heard.

But then again, that boss you hate probably has a few screws loose himself. Maybe he actually falls for this garbage.

Baby, I'm so sorry you're stuck there.

I was mid-rant when the "few screws loose" big boss himself appeared in the office doorway.

He held his phone in one hand, thumb scrolling, head slightly bent C clearly texting someone.

His tailored suit jacket was draped casually over his arm.

His shirt was loosened at the collar, sleeves rolled up. He looked effortlessly, rakishly cool.

Until he glanced up

The intensity in his gaze instantly shattered that casual aura.

My manager practically scrambled to greet him.

At that exact moment, my phone vibrated with a new message from my online boyfriend.

Babe, don't stress. Wanna see my abs?

I was about to type hell yes'.

But in the silent office, Ethan Foster's voice, low and commanding, cut through the air, "Why is everyone still here?"

"Overtime, sir," the manager stammered, forcing a smile. "The team is very dedicated. To show my support, I'm also"

Ethan cut him off. "Is there a critical deadline, or not?"

Instantly, the manager's forehead glistened with sweat.

"Y-yes, sir there's work"

Ethan gestured sharply for the manager to follow him outside.

Less than a minute later, the manager slunk back in.

Pale, he mumbled weakly, "Everyone, go home. Office is closed."

My colleagues exchanged stunned looks.

Then they grabbed their things and fled.

Home at last, I logged on as usual to game with my online boyfriend.

Maybe it was because I'd just heard the big boss speak, but my online boyfriend's voice suddenly sounded familar.

The cadence, the pausesit was unnerving.

"Babe, get in the car! The zone's closing!" he called out.

"Okay," I said, climbing in and deciding to test a theory. "Can you say something for me?"

"Like what?"

"'Why is everyone still here?' Go on, say it."

He drew the words out into a long, playful whine, "Whhhhy~ iiiis~ eeeeveryone~ stiiiill~ heeere~? Were~ you~ waaaiting~ for~ meee~?"

""

I immediately dismissed the voice twin' idea.

If those two were the same person, I'd eat my hat.

I tried to focus on the game, but my boyfriend was stuck on it. "What was that about? Why'd you want me to say that?"

Worn down, I came clean.

For a second, your voice sounded just like my boss's.

That boss? The one who harassed his employee?

Yeah.

The harassment rumor came from a former executive assistant.

The story was that Ethan Foster had made advances, she refused, things got messy, and she was forced out.

She refused, fought back, and he made her resign.

I'd never have guessed the polished, professional Ethan Foster could be such a predator underneath.

I'd vented about him constantly to my online boyfriend, who now hated the guy almost as much as I did.

"Babe! How could my voice sound like that creep?" He sounded genuinely offended, with that familiar stubborn edge. "That's an insult! I'm mad at you now!"

I quickly backtracked. "Don't be mad! It doesn't sound like him at all!"

"You said it did," he pouted dramatically. "I'm booking vocal cord surgery tomorrow! I refuse to share a vocal profile with him!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. What'll make it up to you?"

His tone shifted, turning shy and suggestive. "You know what."

I did.

Testing the waters, I called softly, "Babe~"

"Hmph."

"Boyfriend?"

A heavier, sulky "Hmph!"

I deployed the ultimate weapon, "Honey."

He instantly brightened, "Hehe, all is forgiven."

He wasn't just not mad' C I could practically feel him glowing through the screen.

We gamed until eleven.

Afterwards, I grabbed my pajamas and headed for the shower.

When I emerged, hair still dripping, my clingy boyfriend had already flooded my phone with messages.

Babe, I'm out of the shower!

You took forever!

But waiting for you is the best part.

Reminder, We're meeting this Saturday!

I bought that cologne you love. When we meet, you won't be able to keep your hands off me!

Babe, what do you want me to wear?

I picked out a few outfits. Choose your favorite!

I clicked on the pictures he'd sent. A drop of water fell from my wet hair onto the screen.

The screen flickered, glitching back to our chat window.

I blinked, confused, turning off the hair dryer and pushing my damp hair back.

Then a second drop hit the screen. A third.

I grabbed a tissue to wipe it dry.

But the screen was hypersensitive. Somehow, my fumbling had initiated a video call.

I watched in horror as the call connected.

The person on the other end sat perfectly composed, his hair still fluffy from a recent shower.

He had those perfect features, sharp eyes, a straight nose, full lips C everything arranged flawlessly.

Except for one catastrophic problem.

It was the same face I'd seen in the office just hours earlier.

It was Ethan Foster!

My stomach dropped. I stabbed frantically at the red 'end call' button.

Water dripped from my hair, but I was beyond caring.

My brain was stuck on one horrifying loop,

My online boyfriend was Ethan Fostermy stone-faced, intimidating boss?!

It was insane. Unthinkable.

Yet the proof was staring right at me.

I scrambled to remember to recall any missed clues, but the shock of "Ethan Foster is my boyfriend"short- circuited everything else.

Then, a more terrifying thought emerged,

Had he seen me?

Logically, even if he had, it shouldn't matter. We'd never interacted at work, he probably had no idea what I looked like.

But what if he had?

What if we accidentally made eye contact in the office? I'd be completely exposed!

Anxiety and dread coiled tight in my stomach.

Ethan, having been abruptly hung up on, clearly wasn't taking it well either.

A torrent of messages flooded in.

Babe, why did you end the call?

Was it an accident?

I thought you wanted to see me, that's why I answered I didn't mean to overstep.

Babe, d-do you like how I look?

I just got out of the shower, maybe I'm not at my best. Let me send you some proper photos.

[Image]

[Image]

[Image]

This is what I normally look like. Probably better, right?

Babe, do you like it?

If I'd been clinging to a shred of hope C maybe I was wrong, maybe it wasn't himC those pictures obliterated it.

The casual shots he sent were undeniably, 100% Ethan Foster.

Suit-clad in a boardroom, wearing a black jacket on a mountain trail, mid-jump in a #23 basketball jersey every single one was him. Ethan Foster.

I was devastated!

He seemed just as wrecked, sending a voice message that sounded like a wounded puppy, Babe, please don't ignore me. I'm really scared.

A full-body shudder ran through me.

Before, I'd found his playful, whiny side endearing.

Now, knowing it originated from the cold, imposing Ethan Foster, it felt deeply, profoundly wrong.

How could the contrast be so extreme?

The man who was all business, stern and uncompromising at the office was secretly, inexplicably a simp?

I typed slowly, Did you see me?

He responded instantly, frantic.

Yes!

You're gorgeous!

""

I was trying to process how my dripping wet hai, probably looking like a drowned rat' angle qualified as 'beautiful' when another message popped up.

But I didn't see much.

Just a glimpse of your cute little chin and the tip of your nose. So adorable. Wanna kiss them.

Did you just wash your hair, Babe?

Make sure you dry it properly, okay? You'll catch a cold, and I'd hate that.

""

This was pushing me to my absolute limit.

I used drying my hair as an excuse to pause the excruciating conversation.

The hair dryer roared to life.

I scrolled back through our chat history, still struggling to accept that he was Ethan Foster.

Maybe it was a catfish?

People used stolen photos all the time. Clutching at this last, fragile straw, I opened a chat with a colleague.

Hey, aren't you in that management group chat with Mr. Foster?

Can you send me a screenshot of what his profile looks like?

She replied instantly, No way! That group is all senior staff. I'd die of anxiety.

""

I resorted to bribery, I'll buy you breakfast for a week.

She hesitated, What if I accidentally 'like' one of his old posts? It'd be career suicide.

I upped the ante, Lunch too. A full week.

Finally, she braved it and sent the screenshot.

Mr. Foster's profile picture, his display name, his username, even his location setting C completely identical to my online boyfriend's.

My online boyfriend was Ethan Foster.

Ethan Foster was my online boyfriend.

The realization settled over me with a crushing, final weight.

And with it came a wave of profound annoyance. Who uses their real, fully identifiable, professional profile for online dating? How reckless!

The recklessly identifiable Ethan Foster chose that moment to message me again.

More photos. A full fashion lineup.

Babe, I tried on the outfits for Saturday. Which one do you like best?

I suddenly remembered, the meet-up was this Saturday.

And today was Thursday.

Which meant I had only tomorrow, Friday, to end this.

We had to break up. Immediately!