Just My Luck! A Short Drama
Copyright© 2026 by aroslav
Chapter 18: False Identity
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 18: False Identity - A down-on-his-luck accountant is murdered, resurrected, and thrust into a whirlwind of corporate intrigue, romance, and second chances in Just My Luck!, a sharp, witty drama where bad fortune might just be the best thing that ever happened. This is patterned after Chinese Short Dramas, just 23 chapters.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Humor Workplace Paranormal Polygamy/Polyamory
We arrived at the hotel where the gala banquet was to be held. We’d been issued an invitation from Bill Williams. We’d be bringing our entire development team. That was a good sign. Romy, Anya, Leon, and I rode in the back of the luxury van Fred drove. This vehicle felt spacious and luxurious when configured with just two facing rows of seats in the back. But I’d learned quickly that it could be reconfigured as a mobile office when needed.
“I need to use the restroom before we go in,” Leon said. “It shouldn’t take me too long.”
“I’ll wait for you, Dad,” Anya said immediately. “Romy and Neil can go in and get our table. We’ll have Jeff, JR, Sam, Rich, and Melody joining us tonight.”
“No problem,” Romy said, catching my arm.
They stepped aside to use the restroom and we approached the check-in desk for the banquet. Romy was wearing a beautiful short dress that managed to be semi-formal while still showing her best assets to the world. Anya had a long dress on that was off the shoulder with rows of beads falling from a collar down her elegant arms. Leon and I were in standard tuxes. I’d always been taught that a man should never look better than his date. This evening I had two of the most beautiful women I’d ever met as my dates. Of course, I’d share with Leon.
“Do you have identification, Ms. Reese?” the registrar asked.
Romy had a tiny purse that couldn’t have had more than her license and a credit card in it. I automatically reached for my wallet and discovered I hadn’t put it in my pocket when I dressed in the tux. I should have just tossed my license in Romy’s purse.
The person handing out name badges showed some hesitation, but Romy’s ID was fine and she identified me, so we accepted our badges. It was an elegant affair, so no one was really displaying their badge once we were inside. This time, I handed my badge to Romy and she put it in her clutch.
“Hey, pretty woman,” a guy slurred, coming toward Romy. “Let’s go have a little drink together and get to know each other.”
“Thank you, but no thank you,” Romy said. “We’re waiting for my boss.”
Romy’s scanty dress was immediately attracting men—who made up about three-quarters of those invited. Some had brought spouses or dates. Most were solo. It appeared many had been making liberal use of the hosted bar since it opened an hour previously.
“Who’s your boss?” another guy asked, eyeing me up and down.
“Anya Kendall of Miranda K,” Romy answered. “This is our partner, Neil Levinson of Davis Construction.”
“You can’t be Anya Kendall’s assistant,” one of them said. “I know Anya and she’s never without her assistant by her side. You couldn’t possibly get into the event without Ms. Kendall leading you if you were really her assistant.”
“That’s not so,” Romy protested. “I often arrive before her and make sure things are ready for her arrival.”
“Who’s with you?” a woman’s voice piped in.
A big guy pushed his way through leading a woman I recognized to the front.
“Neil Levinson,” Romy said.
I looked directly into the hate-filled eyes of my ex-wife, Dora Davis.
“You’re dead!” she gasped.
“Disappointed?” I asked.
“You said he was dead!” she declared turning to the big guy next to her. Yeah. Simon Johnson. I had a score to settle with him.
“As you can see, rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated,” I said. Who was it said that? Twain? I was sure it was misquoted. The author could have spent thirty seconds looking it up on Google!
“You say he’s Neil Levinson?” Dora said, spinning on Romy. “That’s a lie. No wonder that guy said you aren’t Ms. Kendall’s assistant. You’re just someone this piece of trash hired for the night. This isn’t Neil Levinson, it’s Cal Levin. And he isn’t with Davis Construction. He’s just a broke-ass bean counter. Get these two imposters out of here!”
My dear ex-wife. She was always a little unpredictable when she’d had too much to drink, but when she was sober, she was just plain vicious.
“You cared so little about our marriage that you never actually looked at either our marriage license or our divorce decree, did you?” I said.
“This is Neil Levinson. He has a business license and entity that declares him to be doing business as Cal Levin CPA,” Romy said. “You really never knew who he was?”
“What do you think, Simon?” I asked turning to Dora’s escort. “Recognize me?”
“I ... I don’t know you. Why would I know you?” he said, backing away. That was one thing about the bully Simon Johnson. Whenever confronted, he escaped.
“You told me he was dead!” Dora snapped at Beef. “You promised you killed him!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beef snapped at her. He might even have been aware that she’d just thrown him under the bus. “You wanted someone killed. That doesn’t mean I did it. There’s absolutely no proof.”
“Really?” I asked. “Kidnapping and attempted murder and attempted kidnapping again. You’ve really gotten inept in your old age.”
“You have no proof of any of that!”
“Maybe we should have the police check the tread on your van tires and see if it matches this!” I said.
I was getting pissed off at this clod. I pulled my shirt out of my pants and lifted it. The permanent bruise of a tire track across my chest was exposed to everyone.
“That just proves you’re a liar,” Beef growled. “No one who was run over like that could possibly survive. You’re a fraud.”
“That’s rich for you to say,” I said. “You should have covered my bat with a ski mask like you did your face. Do you really think I wouldn’t recognize the T-ball bat you stole from me in first grade?”
Beef reached beneath his jacket and pulled out the bat. I knew he had to have it with him. He hadn’t been anywhere without it in thirty-four years.
“There’s no way you can recognize this,” he said. “It’s just a bat.”
Really, author? You just had him pull out the weapon and implicate himself by saying I couldn’t recognize it? Isn’t that just a little unbelievable?
“With all your little modifications, like putting a steel rod in the core to increase the weight and durability, there’s still one thing you never bothered with,” I said. “In first grade, my dad taught me how to use the sun and a magnifying glass to do wood burning. The first thing I did was burn my name into that bat. It’s still there.”
Beef looked at the bat in his hand and saw the nearly worn-off name. He looked up at me and hatred burned in his eyes. I calmly tucked in my shirt so I wasn’t making a spectacle of myself.
“Kill him!” Dora screamed, shoving Beef toward me.
Beef raised the bat and I turned to shield Romy from getting in the way. This was going to hurt.
“I’ll make sure of it this time!” Simon yelled rushing toward me.
“Stop! Who dares to lay a hand on him!” a woman’s voice yelled from the entrance.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Anya and Leon coming toward us.
“Go! Get out of here!” I yelled back at her. “This is a murdering maniac!”
Members of the security team rushed Beef before he could finish his assault and tackled him to the ground.
“It’s the Kendalls,” I heard people whisper.