The Email [Yandere Boss x Reader]

Chapter 4 - Waiting

The realization didn't dawn on me until a few minutes later. I gradually lifted my gaze from the illuminated screen to find Mr. Hayes fixated on his own screen within the confines of his office.

Maybe it didn't send?

After lunch, as the rhythmic sound of keyboards filled the air and we all resumed our mindless typing, a palpable shift occurred. An unsettling awareness crept over me, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized. Slowly raising my eyes from the keyboard, I locked eyes with him—Mr. Hayes, his gaze intense and unwavering.

His usually composed demeanor had given way to a storm of anger. His jaw was clenched so tightly it seemed as if his teeth might shatter, and the tension in his expression was mirrored by the strained lines across his forehead.

He seen it

He knew i sent it

Well, i lived a good life

I anticipated him rising from his desk, perhaps even shouting for me to enter his office, but the expected uproar never materialized. After a few suspenseful minutes, I cautiously looked up and found him nonchalantly typing away, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing within me.

Leaning over to Jake, I murmured, "Uh... I sent it."

"Sent what?" Jake replied, engrossed in his computer with his eyes fixed on the screen.

"Remember when you suggested I type out my feelings into an email and then delete it?" I whispered, ensuring no one else overheard. Jake abruptly halted his typing.

"You... you did not," he exclaimed.

"I did."

After enduring hours of anticipation, dreading the impending storm, the day ended. I got up from my chair and clocked out and headed home. All while waiting for him to fire me.

The following day, I teetered on the edge of my seat, a sense of unease lingering. We were all summoned to a meeting, yet oddly, the shareholders were conspicuously absent. Instead, it was just him standing there, an ominous figure in the center of the room.

Yeah, this is gonna be bad

I stood alongside Sarah, attempting to shield myself and blend into the background.

"It has come to my attention that there's no genuine respect here, only fear. Many of you entertain the idea of quitting, some even explore job opportunities while sitting at your desks when you should be working," he declared. His towering figure, standing at six foot three, cast an imposing shadow over us, and his stern demeanor suggested a man who rarely cracked a smile. Then, those cold, lifeless eyes met mine, piercing through the room with an intense gaze.

"But only one of you had the audacity to speak up, not just to my face but also to type out those feelings in an email and send it to me right in the middle of your shift," he continued, the weight of his words hanging in the air like an impending storm.

A murmur swept through the crowd as Jake shot me a look tinged with terror – a silent message echoing, 'You messed up.' I met his gaze with a knowing expression that conveyed, 'I know.' Mentally preparing to pack my belongings into a box, I braced myself for the consequences.

Just as the weight of anticipation settled, he began speaking again, interrupting the mental preparation for my inevitable departure.

Suddenly breaking the silence, he fixed his gaze upon me with a level of intensity that felt almost accusatory. "Y/N, stand up," he commanded, his voice cutting through the muted tension in the room.