Nadia's Point Of View
My back felt like it had been fused into a permanent "S" shape, each vertebra locked in protest. For hours… actual, miserable, soul-sucking hours, I had sat at that pathetic excuse for a desk, staring at spreadsheets until the numbers started dancing like drunken ants.
My eyes burned from the screen's relentless glare, and a dull throb had settled behind my temples, pulsing in rhythm with my growing resentment. Every time I cross-referenced a file, I whispered a different curse word aimed specifically at Seraphina.
Bitch. Cross-reference. Peasant. Budget summary. I hope you trip in your designer heels. Spreadsheet update.
The petty mantras were the only thing keeping me from screaming. They gave me something to focus on besides the humiliation burning in my chest.
