Ignoring the myriad judgments held within those gazes, Millie held her head high and proceeded confidently to her designated seat.

She decided that the opinions of others were inconsequential and held no power to sway her.

“Finally, you grace us with your presence.” Dottie’s voice carried a hushed undertone, her eyes shadowed by the weight of dark circles.

Dottie had been weathering a storm of hardships, courtesy of Emerie’s exacting demands. The load of tasks and the blame for designs gone awry had taken their toll, leading her to burn the midnight oil night after night.

The crosshairs of Nancy and Emerie were unmistakably fixed upon her, leaving the rest in a state of trepidation when it came to engaging with her. The passage of these days had cast a pall of misery over her.

The instant Millie settled into her seat, a discernible click resounded through the air.

“Ouch!”

dawned swiftly as her chair

unforgiving floor, her voice escaped

startlement gave way to immediate action as she

amusement evident

someone’s packed on some pounds during their brief absence from work,” Emerie quipped with a mischievous

edict from Nancy landed squarely in her hands, a directive to make Millie’s return to the fold an arduous

those aligned with Nancy’s faction,

one of her palms

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inspection, Millie identified a fracture running through the chair’s center. An irony surfaced-this very chair, procured from a reputable manufacturer, boasted a robustness that could withstand

of Millie’s palm, a pang of empathy surged within Dottie. Her countenance flushed with a

their time until you took your seat. Their audacity knows no bounds. You’re Mrs. Thomas, yet they muster the audacity to subject you to such bullying,” Dottie confided, her words brimming

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