Amy Stone
“What’s wrong, Chad? Your face doesn’t look so good.” I tilt my head slightly, letting the venom drip from each word.
“N–nothing… I just feel a little weird, that’s all.” He clutches his stomach, his face pale and sweaty. “I’ll see you later.”
I smile faintly, watching him stumble toward the door. “Oh, poor Chad,” I whisper under my breath. You thought kissing up to me would erase everything you did? You’re pathetic.
He rushes out, nearly tripping on his way. Satisfaction spreads through me like warmth from a good cup of coffee. I tap my nails lightly on the desk, glance at the clock, and smirk. It’s time for the second phase of my plan.
With a quick grab of my purse, I leave my office. Heads turn as I walk through the lobby. The click of my heels echoes, sharp and steady. P
