“Can I get you coffee or water?”
“Water would be lovely. Thank you.”
Emily smiled and stepped toward the refreshment station.
Angela walked to a seating area near the center of the lobby.
She had barely sat down when the sharp clicking of expensive heels echoed across the marble.
“Emily!”
The voice was loud enough to turn heads.
“Emily, where is my conference packet?”
Angela looked toward the reception desk.
A blonde woman in a hot-pink suit marched through the lobby, followed by a younger assistant struggling to keep pace.
Vanessa Whitmore.
Angela recognized her immediately from the executive personnel files.
Vanessa carried a designer handbag that cost more than many of the company’s administrative employees earned in three months.
Her face was tight with irritation.
“I specifically said the revised version,” Vanessa snapped. “Not the draft from Friday.”
The assistant, a petite brunette named Claire, held up a thick folder.
“This is the revised version, Mrs. Whitmore. The changes are highlighted.”
Vanessa snatched it from her.
“Then why didn't you say that immediately?”
Claire opened her mouth.
Vanessa raised a hand.
“Don't explain. Just do your job.”
Angela watched Claire retreat toward the reception desk.
She looked exhausted.
Vanessa turned, scanning the lobby.
Her eyes settled on Angela.
For a moment, she simply stared.
Then her expression hardened.
“You.”
Angela looked behind herself before realizing Vanessa was addressing her.
“Yes?”
Vanessa approached with deliberate, exaggerated steps.
“What are you doing sitting here?”
Angela rose politely.
“Waiting for a meeting.”
Vanessa looked her up and down.
Her gaze lingered on Angela’s green suit, then moved to her dark curls and leather portfolio.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“With whom?”
“Michael Reeves.”
Vanessa laughed softly.
It was not a friendly sound.
“Michael Reeves is the interim president of this company.”
“I know.”
“And you expect me to believe he's meeting with you?”
Angela studied her.
“I don't see why that would be difficult to believe.”
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
“Listen, I don't know which temporary agency sent you, but there's been a misunderstanding.”
“I'm not with a temporary agency.”
“Then perhaps you're interviewing for housekeeping.”
The words landed heavily in the elegant lobby.
A receptionist looked up.
Claire stopped sorting documents.
Angela maintained her composure.
“No,” she said. “I'm here on business.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Of course you are.”
She gave a little laugh.
“Everyone is here on business, sweetheart. That doesn't mean everyone belongs in the executive lounge.”
Angela glanced toward the seating area.
“I'm standing in the public lobby.”
“Don't get technical with me.”
Vanessa moved closer.
“You people come in here thinking that putting on a nice suit makes you part of the executive crowd.”
The lobby grew quieter.
Angela felt a familiar tightening in her chest.
She had heard versions of those words before.
At university networking events.
At corporate conferences.
During investment meetings where strangers had assumed she was the assistant rather than the founder.
But she had learned long ago that the first response to cruelty did not always need to be anger.
Sometimes silence revealed more.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” Angela said, “I have an appointment. I'd appreciate being allowed to wait.”
Vanessa blinked.
“How do you know my name?”
“Your assistant addressed you.”
Vanessa looked toward Claire.
The younger woman immediately lowered her gaze.
“Well, then, you should also know that I supervise this lobby and everything that happens in it.”
Angela knew that wasn't true.
Vanessa had no operational responsibility for lobby management.
But she said nothing.
Vanessa pointed toward the service corridor.
“Staff entrance is over there.”
“I'm not a member of the housekeeping staff.”
“Then why are you arguing with me like one?”
Several employees were now openly watching.
Angela could see uncertainty in their faces.
One middle-aged man took a step forward, then stopped.
Vanessa noticed the growing audience.
Instead of becoming embarrassed, she seemed energized.
“Since you're so determined to make a scene,” she announced, “perhaps we should settle this right now.”
She opened her designer handbag.
Angela watched her remove a thick roll of cash.
Vanessa peeled off several bills.
“Maybe this will help you understand.”
“Understand what?”
Vanessa smiled.
“Your place.”
Then she threw the money.
Bills struck Angela’s shoes and scattered across the marble.
One floated beneath the reception counter.
Another landed beside a polished metal chair.
Vanessa laughed.
“Go ahead. Pick it up.”
Nobody moved.