Chapter 108/The Slaves of the Arrogant

Chapter 108: 108/The Slaves of the Arrogant

Chapter 108

Stephanie’s Point of View

I burst out of Cedric’s suite with a pale, drawn face, my jagged breaths escaping my chest in frantic, scattered gasps. My only desperate thought was to reach the safety of my room before anyone caught sight of me in this shameful, undone state. But the exact moment I rounded the corner of the corridor leading to my wing, the blood froze solid in my veins and a paralyzing shock locked my limbs as if a bolt of lightning had struck me from the heavens.

One of the palace maids was standing right in the middle of the hallway!

The maid froze in her tracks in absolute, lethal bewilderment. Her eyes widened terrifyingly as she took in the white silk bedsheet wrapped tightly around my body, my pale skin shivering violently, and my disheveled hair, which was visibly radiating the unmistakable, sharp scent of Cedric’s cologne. I had no words, no excuse to justify my scandalous appearance at this early hour of the morning. I stared at her with facial features completely paralyzed by terror and disorientation.

After seconds of a suffocating, lethal silence, I gathered whatever remained of my shattered strength and bolted past her in a frantic, wild rush, my storming steps echoing down the hall. I slammed my bedroom door open, lunged inside, and headed straight for the bathroom, locking the heavy wooden door securely behind me.

I stripped the white sheet off my bare body with fingers trembling in frantic, excessive hysteria. Gathering the fabric that was heavily soiled with our fluids, I stuffed it deep into the very bottom of the laundry basket to permanently hide it from view. I stepped beneath the scorching stream of the shower, my entire frame shaking with an uncontrollable tremor. The maid’s bewildered, suspicious gaze was branded into my mind like a living nightmare, a lethal fear gnawing at my gut and mind at the thought of the absolute scandal now knocking at my door.

"What if she tells Alexander what she saw? Oh my God, he will kill me!" I whimpered, my burning tears mingling with the pouring water.

I began to scrub my skin and neck with violent, brutal force, using soap and water to wash away every lingering trace and slick mark Cedric’s mouth had left between my thighs and across my throat. Finally, I stepped out of the bathroom with rapid, unsteadied paces.

I dried my hair haphazardly, my mind utterly shattered. Now was not the time to break down; I had to focus entirely on my job at the company. If I arrived late again this morning, that arrogant, wretched manager would seize the opportunity to fire me and crush my ambitions! I dried my hair in a desperate rush and threw on a pair of classic black trousers and a crimson-red blouse. I let my hair fall loosely over my shoulders and neck, trying my best to conceal any marks, and grabbed my makeup kit. Since I didn’t have a single spare minute to apply it in the room, I shoved it deep into my bag and rushed out the door with tense steps.

Right in the middle of the outer corridor, I flinched in sudden shock when I encountered Alexander standing by the door in his massive frame. He looked at me with surprise and a deep, underlying suspicion, his expression hardening as he spoke in a husky, deep voice:

"Steph."

I averted my frantic gaze from him in a lethal panic, terrified that he would read the lie directly in my eyes. I spoke in rapid, broken breaths as I brushed past him at full speed:

"Alex, we can talk about anything later when I return... I have to go, I have to leave right now! I am terribly late for work!"

I rushed down the marble stairs at a dangerous, chaotic speed, when Alexander’s firm, commanding voice suddenly pierced the air behind me, heavy with an intense fear and deep protectiveness:

"Stephanie, mind your steps and move carefully... you are pregnant!"

The moment the word pregnant left his lips, I instinctively slowed my pace, my movements turning cautious and guarded. Despite the absolute madness of the situation, I couldn’t be reckless enough to risk harming the twins growing inside me. I reached the palace foyer downstairs and found Grandpa Victor sitting majestically at the head of the massive dining table. I waved my hand to him in a frantic rush without slowing my stumbling steps, saying pleadingly:

"Good morning, Grandpa... I am horribly late, I’ll see you when I get back."

I didn’t even wait for him to open his mouth to return my greeting. I bolted out into the courtyard and ran toward my parked car. I threw myself behind the steering wheel with trembling limbs, started the engine, and drove at maximum speed, maneuvering through the winding streets.

By some miracle, I arrived at the company building. The hands of the clock clearly read 7:45 AM which meant, by digital standards, I had exactly 15 whole minutes before the official start of the workday. I stayed in my seat to make use of the time, unzipping my bag in a rush to pull out my makeup kit. Suddenly, my fingers froze, and my features twisted in pure shock and agonizing embarrassment when my eyes landed on that wretched, shameful plastic dick lying at the very bottom of the bag! I had completely forgotten to remove it since that ill-fated day! I snatched it out with frantic, nervous energy, my face burning with a scorching crimson blush, and shoved it deep into the front glove compartment of the car.

Under no circumstances did I want to face another humiliating or suspicious situation in the company hallways because of it.

I flipped down the small rearview mirror and began applying my makeup rapidly, precisely, and neatly to hide my pale, exhausted features. My wide eyes darted to the dashboard clock every single second, terrified that time would catch up with me.

I successfully finished my makeup within five minutes, then stepped out of the car with confident strides, forcing a false composure over myself. Grabbing my side bag, I walked proudly through the main gates of the corporate building and rode the elevator up, tension still hammering against my pulse. When the doors slid open on the fourth floor, all the employees were already settled at their desks. The clock read exactly 7:55 AM.

I walked with steady, calm steps and sat at my desk, slowly reclaiming my ragged breaths. But after only a few moments, my colleague Lily approached me with an anxious expression, her face filled with dark apprehension. She whispered in an incredibly low voice:

"Stephanie... Mr. Vincetti strictly ordered me to tell you to report to his office the exact second you arrived."

My stomach clenched with an intense frustration and rage. I knit my brows in bewilderment and said:

"And why on earth does he want me right now? I didn’t arrive late by even a single minute this morning!"

Lily shrugged helplessly and said:

"I have no earthly idea, Stephanie... but his face was incredibly grim."

I stood up from my chair with cautious, anger-fueled steps, heading straight for the office door of that arrogant, wretched man. Standing before the thick wood, I knocked sharply and repeatedly, until his dry, cold, and commanding voice echoed from within:

"Come in."

I pushed the door open forcefully and stepped inside, my body coiled tight like a piano wire. I locked my sharp, defiant gaze directly into his harsh face, saying with dry formality:

"Good morning, Mr. Vincetti. Lily informed me that you requested me urgently. Is there a problem?"

He raised his head with a provoking slowness from the scattered documents before him, looking at me with features as harsh and cold as ice. He spoke in a biting, mocking tone:

"Miss Miller... I truly thought you were someone who learned from her past mistakes and rearranged her priorities better."

I knit my brows in complete misunderstanding and distaste at his vague words, saying defiantly:

"I don’t quite understand your meaning, Mr. Vincetti. What are you implying by this?"

He leaned back coldly into his luxurious leather chair, lacing his fingers together with a provoking detachment as he stared down at me condescendingly, saying:

"I thought you would possess enough professionalism to arrive early, at the exact perfect time, to prove your worthiness for the position... but it seems clear that there is no hope for you in that regard."

I turned swiftly, glancing at the large clock mounted on the wall behind him in sheer rage. The hands pointed to 7:59 AM there was still a full minute left until eight! I raised my head with pride and arrogance, saying in a sharp, elevated voice:

"Mr. Vincetti... it is not yet eight o’clock by official time, and I am already standing here inside your office before the deadline!"

He narrowed his eyes brutally, his sharp gaze scanning me from head to toe with utter disdain, then said in a stern tone:

"Miss Miller, I am a man who does not expect his employees to show up exactly on the dot like machines. I expect a doubled effort that demonstrates your passion. I want you to arrive every single day before all the employees on this floor."

I stared at him in genuine bewilderment, my thoughts completely paralyzed by the sheer unfairness and injustice of it. My entire body locked up as I said in a raised, indignant voice:

"What do you mean by this? I truly do not understand this bizarre logic of treatment!"

He pointed his expensive pen toward the edge of the desk, saying with a cutting coldness that brooked no argument:

"Miss Miller... the matter is incredibly simple. At the very least, arrive and be at your desk by 7:30 AM every day without delay."

I tightened my grip excessively on the strap of my bag, defending my right with an overwhelming frustration that nearly choked me:

"Mr. Vincetti, work in this company officially begins at exactly eight o’clock! That is what Mrs. Sophia explained to me decisively when I attended the job interview!"

He tilted his head with a cold, tyrannical dominance, his dry gaze devoid of any flexibility as he said in a low voice that carried an implicit threat:

"But I am the manager here, Miss Miller, and I want you specifically to arrive earlier than that time, under the terms I have just laid out... or do you have a problem or an obstacle preventing you from executing my orders precisely?"

I swallowed my burning rage and the voice of my pride that was demanding I scream in his face. My jaw clenched violently as I tried with everything in me to control my raging nerves, saying in a dry, expressionless tone:

"No, Mr. Vincetti... I don’t have a problem, of course. I will be here tomorrow at 7:30 AM precisely."

He looked at me with a mocking, arrogant satisfaction coloring his features, having achieved exactly what he wanted. Then, he carelessly flicked the tip of his finger toward the empty porcelain cup sitting before him, saying in an insulting, commanding phrasing:

"Fine... take this and bring me my hot coffee quickly."

A violent fury took hold of me, and I felt a rush of heat and blood shooting straight up to my face and my hidden neck. His private secretary was already sitting outside behind her luxurious desk doing absolutely nothing so why was he ignoring her and demanding that I bring him coffee like a servant?!

I took a wide, loud step forward, slamming my palm violently against the edge of his polished wooden desk.

I locked my defiant eyes, flashing with black sparks, directly into his, and the voice tore from my throat loud, powerful, and dripping with absolute refusal and buried rage:

"I am a designer and I have my specific job here! I am not your private secretary to order me to bring your coffee, Mr. Vincetti!"