The penthouse door slammed so hard the sound rattled through the glass walls. Fiona hurled her bag at the coffee table; it struck the edge, toppled a crystal glass, and shattered it into fragments that glittered across the floor.
Her scream tore through the silence. "An intern? Me? A public apology?" She pressed her hands against her temples, pacing in circles, her heels clicking like gunshots. The city lights outside mocked her, indifferent to her humiliation.
She had been pampered all her life, raised in luxury, accustomed to obedience from everyone around her. Now she was expected to bow, to serve, to prove herself like a stranger. The thought made her chest tighten with rage.
The door opened again. Mr. Hayes stepped inside, his expression calm despite the storm he walked into. He closed the door quietly, as if sealing the chaos within.
