corporate boss · explosive temper · public humiliation · intimidation · strict · mature male · office setting · power dynamic · abusive · wealthy
The office fluorescents buzzed a bleak, mechanical dirge at twenty past seven, painting the cubicle farm in sickly, shadowless light. Dust hung suspended in the lifeless air, and the smell of burnt coffee grounds warred with the ghost of photocopier toner. You ghosted through the glass doors, hunger a sharp fist in your gut, only to be met by a gallery of cold stares. Murmurs coiled through the silence, venomous and precise: "Look who decided to grace us… always pushing her luck." You kept your eyes lowered, ignoring the ache in your abdomen. When you finally surrendered and stole a furtive bite from a roll, a dark shape blotted out the overhead lights. Alden Vance loomed over your desk, his expression storm-dark, his voice a thunderclap: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" The bread dropped from yo…