The days blurred together after John started his new job. It wasn't the kind of work he had imagined , not the simple, quiet cleaning job he thought he could manage while recovering from his injuries. Oliver had made sure of that.
John quickly realized that he hadn't been employed to work , he had been employed to be humiliated.
Every day was a test of endurance. His coworkers, no doubt following Oliver's lead, treated him with scorn and mockery. They gave him the dirtiest, most degrading tasks, laughed at his discomfort, and never missed an opportunity to remind him of his place. When he arrived, the smirks were always waiting. By the time he left, his spirit felt crushed.
But every evening, when he came home to Sarah, he forced a smile. He told her how the work was going well, how nice his coworkers were, and how things were starting to look up. He told her about the mundane details of the job , the office gossip, the tasks he completed , but he left out the important part. He left out the constant humiliation.
He couldn't tell her. Not when she had already been through so much. Not when she was still recovering from the trauma of nearly losing him. Sarah needed to believe that everything was okay, that they were finally catching a break. So John played along, hiding the truth behind the mask of false contentment.
"Everyone's been really nice," John said one evening as they sat at the small kitchen table, his voice steady but hollow. "It's not glamorous work, but it pays, and the people there are… helpful."
Sarah smiled, relief softening the lines of stress on her face. "I'm so glad to hear that, John. You deserve something good after everything we've been through."
John nodded, forcing a small smile. But inside, the weight of what was really happening at work threatened to choke him.
-At Work: The Truth-
From the moment John stepped foot in the office each morning, the insults began. The work Oliver had assigned him wasn't just menial , it was degrading. Sweeping floors wasn't enough; John had to clean the dirtiest restrooms, scrub the kitchen after office parties, and even handle garbage duty during company events. His coworkers watched him with sneering glances, occasionally tossing an empty coffee cup or food wrapper on the floor right in front of him, just to watch him bend down and pick it up.
Every time John tried to speak up, to assert himself, Oliver would be there, waiting to cut him down. It was as if he had a sixth sense for when John's resolve would strengthen, only to appear and crush it.
One afternoon, John was in the middle of mopping the floor of a conference room when he overheard some of his coworkers laughing about him in the hallway.
"Can you believe this guy used to think he could marry Sarah Lance?" one of them said with a laugh. "Now look at him. Cleaning up after us like the pathetic loser he is."
Another voice chimed in, louder. "He probably thought he'd be running some part of the business one day. Guess he didn't realize Oliver had him pegged for this all along."
The laughter stung, but John clenched his jaw and continued mopping, trying to block it out. As long as he could come home to Sarah and keep this from her, he could endure it. He had to.
But then, Oliver walked in, as he always seemed to do at the perfect moment. He approached John, a cold smile curling at the edges of his lips.
"John," he said, his voice smooth but dripping with condescension. "I hope you're enjoying your time here. I hear you're getting along so well with everyone."
John stopped mopping and straightened, his face flushed with frustration. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something , anything , about how humiliating this job had been, how unfairly he was being treated. But before he could get a word out, Oliver cut him off, his voice dropping to a low, menacing tone.
"Remember your place, John," Oliver said, his eyes locking onto John's with an icy glare. "You belong to me now. This job, your life, your wife , all of it is in my hands. And as long as you know your place, you'll keep everything you hold dear. But if you step out of line…"
Oliver's words trailed off, but the threat lingered in the air like a dark cloud.
John clenched his fists at his sides, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He wanted to shout at Oliver, to fight back, but the weight of the situation pressed down on him. He couldn't risk it. Not when Sarah's safety was at stake.
"Good," Oliver said with a smug smile, sensing John's submission. "Now, get back to work."
John bit back his pride and lowered his head, picking up the mop once more as Oliver walked away, the sound of his laughter echoing down the hallway.
-Back Home-
That evening, as John returned home, he forced himself to smile as soon as he walked through the door. Sarah greeted him with a warm embrace, and despite the physical and emotional pain that coursed through him, John hugged her back, careful not to let her see the cracks forming beneath his facade.
"How was work today?" Sarah asked, her eyes filled with hope.
John chuckled, putting on his best performance. "It was… fine. My coworkers are great. Really supportive."
He didn't mention the humiliation, the constant reminders of his powerlessness, or the way Oliver's shadow seemed to loom over him at every turn. He didn't tell her about how each day at work felt like another piece of his soul being chipped away.
Sarah smiled, leaning into him. "I'm glad, John. I really am."
John nodded, though his heart ached with the lies he was telling. "Me too," he said softly, pulling her close, his smile fading the moment she wasn't looking.
As the days went by, John kept up the act, hiding the pain and humiliation behind a mask of calm and composure. He couldn't let Sarah see the truth , not yet. She had been through too much already, and the last thing he wanted was to burden her with his struggles. So every day, he left for work, endured the degradation, and returned home with a smile, determined to protect her from the ugly reality of their situation.