Chapter 33
Nora's POV
The alarm didn't go off.
I jolted awake and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. 7:32 AM. The all-staff meeting started at eight.
"Shit."
I threw off the covers and stumbled toward the bathroom, my brain still foggy. No time for a proper shower, barely time to brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face. I grabbed the first clean clothes I could find, my hair getting only a quick pull-through with the elastic around my wrist.
Five minutes to grab my bag, check that the files were inside, and I was out the door.
The taxi took fifteen minutes to reach the building.
I paid and ran, clutching my bag.
I burst into the elevator just as the doors began to close, my bag smacking against the handrail. Only when the elevator started moving upward did I let myself breathe, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes for just a second.
Made it.
"Oh my, some people just can't manage to show up on time, can they?"
My hands froze mid-adjustment. I knew that voice—smooth, perfectly modulated, with just enough sweetness to make the venom underneath sound almost polite.
I slowly lowered my hands and turned around.
Sarah stood in the back corner of the elevator, one hand holding a Starbucks cup, the other her phone.
Four other DSW employees stood beside her. They all had that carefully neutral expression people get when they sense conflict and want no part of it.
I turned back to face the doors, watching the floor numbers tick upward. "Good morning, Sarah."
"Oh, don't worry, Nora." Her voice dripped false concern. "I'm sure they'll understand. After all, you're just a temporary contract worker. You don't have to meet the same standards as those of us with actual positions."
The elevator hummed. Third floor.
If she knew we were completely over, I could only imagine what other taunts she'd throw my way. But I didn't owe her any explanations..
But Sarah never knew when to stop.
"I really envy your luck," she continued, taking a delicate sip of her coffee. "When you have a wealthy boyfriend, I suppose punctuality doesn't matter much, does it? Some people can throw tantrums, miss deadlines, show up whenever they want... and somehow still keep their jobs. Must be nice."
The man closest to me coughed quietly, looking down at his shoes. The woman with the travel mug suddenly became very interested in her phone screen.
My hand tightened on my bag strap. I could feel the heat rising in my chest, that familiar anger Sarah always seemed to want to trigger. But I forced myself to stay quiet, forced my breathing to remain even.
Not worth it. She's not worth it.
Fourth floor.
"Of course," Sarah said, her tone shifting to almost pitying, "I suppose when everything always comes so easily, it's hard to develop a work ethic. Some of us actually have to earn our positions."
The elevator chimed. Fifth floor. The doors slid open and the other four passengers practically fled into the hallway, desperate to escape the tension. I stepped out first and headed straight for the time clock near the security desk. I scanned my thumb, then turned to face Sarah, who was approaching at a leisurely pace.
"Sarah," I called out. "Wait a second."
One perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in question. "Yes?"
I walked toward her slowly, deliberately, until I stood close enough to see the flicker of uncertainty cross her face. Close enough that she took half a step back.
"You said you envied my luck, right?" I asked, my voice soft and steady.
I reached my hand toward her hair.
Sarah jerked backward so fast she nearly dropped her coffee, eyes wide. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
"There's something in your hair," I said calmly, keeping my hand extended. "I was just going to remove it for you. Isn't that what colleagues do?"
Sarah's hand flew to her hair, fingers frantically patting at the elaborate updo. "Where? Where is it?"
"Oh, I must have been mistaken," I said, my tone perfectly pleasant. "There's nothing there. Perhaps I should look in a mirror before making assumptions about other people's appearance."
Her face went from pale to flushed in an instant. Her hands dropped to her sides, clenched into fists so tight her knuckles went white. "You—you bitch—"
"Careful, Sarah." I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "Professional language matters in a federal building. Even for those who got their jobs through family connections."
Her whole body trembled, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath her skin.
But then her expression changed—the anger giving way to something uglier, something vindictive.
"You think you're really that lucky?" Her voice was low and vicious. "You want to know the truth, Nora? You want to know why Kyle Vaughn pursued you for two years in college?"
My stomach dropped. "What are you talking about?"
"It was a bet." The words came out triumphant and cruel. "Kyle and his fraternity friends made a bet senior year—could he seduce the 'Ice Queen' before graduation? The stakes were a Porsche."
The hallway seemed to tilt slightly. I heard the words, understood them individually, but my brain refused to process what they meant strung together.
"Technically he lost the bet, since it took Kyle two years longer than graduation. But hey, points for persistence, right?"
Something cold spread through my chest, crawling up my throat. Then came nausea, which finally turned into relief.
"Oh god, the look on your face right now," Sarah laughed. "Did you really think someone like Kyle Vaughn would pursue you out of genuine interest? Please. Boys like him don't fall in love, Nora. They collect trophies."
I took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing my face to remain neutral even as my thoughts churned. The cold shock was settling into something else—not devastation, but a strange, distant clarity.
When I finally spoke, my voice was steady. "Are you finished?"