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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

action as she rushed

her amusement evident even as

packed on some pounds during their brief

dawn, an edict from Nancy landed squarely in her hands, a directive to make Millie’s

from those aligned with Nancy’s faction, their laughter joining the chorus of

Millie rose to her feet, one of her palms bearing the evidence of

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deliberately sabotaged your chair and bided their time until you took your seat. Their audacity knows no bounds. You’re Mrs.