Temptress

6|New Plan

Sereia's POV

I watched as Olivia shouted from the top of her lungs to one of the employees.

"Is this the quality of work we hired you for?" she shouted as she threw the papers in his face.

Is this how Violet was treated?

Did my older sister have to go through this while she was only a teenager?

Was this the behaviour that drove my sister to suicide?

My body was frozen as I watched the scene from my office.

She tossed all the files from his desk to the floor. "Pick them up!"

His body trembled in fear as he kneeled.

That's enough.

I rose to my feet and marched to the centre.

"Stop it," I said and she glared at me.

"Step aside," she spat. "I'm disciplining my employees how I want to."

"Your employees?"I asked confused. "The last time I checked, I am in charge."

She shot me a venomous look and I could feel why my sister did what she did.

Finally, her whole nice girl act was gone and she showed her true colours.

I thought I would have had to wait longer, but she wasted no time.

"Stop it," I repeated as I showed her that I was to be feared.

She laughed as she looked around at the employees who were watching us.

Her eyes widened and I turned to see him watching us with a scowl.

He made slow and calculated steps towards us. "What is going on here?"

She smiled before grabbing onto his arm. "It's nothing. Ms. Sinclair and I are handling it."

I swallowed back the bitterness that was at the back of my throat as I watched them.

He looked at her before looking at me. "Ms. Sinclair?"

I forced a smile. "Everything is being handled, sir."

He examined my facial expression for a few more seconds before nodding. "Okay."

"Let me walk you to the elevator," she smiled before guiding him away.

He was her weakness.

She feared him finding out who she really was.

I stooped down and helped the man pick up his papers.

"No, no, ma'am," he spoke as he rushed to pick up the papers. "You shouldn't help me."

"Why not?" I asked and he looked at me.

"Because you're the director and you shouldn't lift a finger."

I paused to look at him.

The fact that these people have such thoughts embedded in their brainwashed minds made me angry.

They believed that they were so inferior that only they should perform manual labour.

"That's not true at all," I told him as I continued to help.

...

"Thanks for meeting me Serena," I said to my old high school friend as we ate lunch together at a nearby cafe.

"You did promise to buy me lunch," she smiled.

Serena was now an aspiring journalist at one of Chicago's finest news stations.