Chapter 109/The Trap of the Plastic Proof

Chapter 109: 109/The Trap of the Plastic Proof

Chapter 109

Stephanie’s Point of View

Mr. Vincetti locked his bizarre, cryptic gaze onto my eyes with a piercing, deeply suspicious intensity. Gradually, all expressions vanished from his rigid face, turning it as hard and unreadable as sculpted granite. Then, he spoke in a dry, cutting, and absolute tone that brooked no argument from any living soul:

"I am the only man here who possesses the right and the power to dictate the nature of your work, and what you must do or refrain from doing within these walls, Miss Miller."

I drew my arms up in profound anxiety and apprehension, a direct reaction to his overwhelming arrogance. Pressing my trembling fingers against my blouse to draw some desperate strength from the fabric, I spoke, fury tearing through my throat:

"And does dictating the nature of my work and my engineering design boil down to turning me into a forced servant, obligated specifically to fetch your morning cup of coffee?"

He tilted his head with a nerve-wracking, provocative coldness, pointing his luxurious pen toward the edge of the desk once more with a mechanical, condescending movement that demonstrated his utter disregard for everything I said. His voice came out husky and completely indifferent:

"Yes, exactly. You have hit the bullseye for the very first time. Now, cease this waste of time and empty arguing, and move to fetch my hot coffee immediately."

I remained standing in my tracks, refusing to move a single inch toward the door. My entire body locked up like rigid wood from the sheer humiliation of the moment, while my mind spun frantically to find a powerful retort a lethal verbal strike to break his towering pride and demolish the fortress of arrogance he had used to crush me since the moment I set foot in this building.

He scanned me with eyes that narrowed in obvious impatience and severe detachment, adding as a dark frown creased his forehead:

"What is the matter with you? Do you truly believe I am free to just stand around waiting like this all day long?!"

I took a single, wide step forward, the features of my pale face tightening with the bitter rage and blatant refusal I could no longer suppress within my chest. My voice rang out in a sharp, elevated tone that struck the walls of his office:

"There is a secretary already sitting right outside, and she is paid a generous monthly salary precisely for this job and to fulfill your personal requests! Why must I specifically be the one to bring coffee to your office at this time?"

He tightly crossed his arms over his broad chest and towering frame. His sharp, harsh gaze entirely stripped of any human flexibility brushed over me as he spoke with a calm, quiet coldness and a tyrannical detachment in which I could feel a laced threat:

"Miss Miller... what part of my previous statement was too cryptic or ambiguous for your mind to comprehend? I and only I am the manager who holds absolute authority to distribute roles and define your duties here at the firm."

The nerves inside my head felt ready to snap, and I felt the heat of pure anger rushing violently through my veins. I could no longer, under any circumstances, tolerate his crude, dry treatment directed at me for no logical reason. I stepped closer to the edge of his desk, slamming my fingers violently against the polished wood to confront him face-to-face, completely abandoning any corporate diplomacy:

"Are you attempting to use your methods to take personal revenge against me and settle empty scores, Mr. Vincetti?"

The exact second I uttered that daring word crossing numerous unwritten red lines he rose from his leather chair with a slow, calculated, and deeply provocative deliberate motion.

His towering, massive frame and immense height instantly began to cast a silent dread and panic over the entire space. He advanced toward me with calm, measured, and arrogant strides that mirrored a predator cornering its prey. His frame drew dangerously close to mine, his hot breath brushing against my skin, forcing me to take a massive step backward instinctively as my breath hitched violently.

He bent his head slightly to bring his gaze level with mine, locking his dark pupils into the depths of my eyes, his voice dropping to a low, husky rumble:

"Who on earth do you think you are to speak in such a manner, Miss Miller?"

I swallowed with immense difficulty, my throat aching with a dry, scorching burn. I tried with every ounce of my depleted pride to maintain my stability and posture before his eyes, but he continued in a mocking, derisive tone that thoroughly ridiculed my accusation:

"I am taking revenge against you? And on what logical basis or solid foundation have you constructed this ridiculous, dramatic conclusion inside that small mind of yours?"

I averted my eyes from him slightly in a visible panic I desperately tried to hide, speaking in rapid, short breaths that betrayed my shattered composure:

"Because I simply arrived a few minutes late for work yesterday."

The harsh features of his face relaxed suddenly, as if he had just heard an incredibly amusing joke. A cold, wicked, and thoroughly mocking smile etched across his lips as he delivered a biting retort that slashed through my dignity:

"Do you truly view yourself as so monumental that I, a busy businessman, would possess the free time for such triviality? That I would occupy my mind and care about a newly hired employee whether she arrived late or showed up exactly on the dot?"

I stared back at him with pure stubbornness, my eyes flashing with defiance despite the fear clawing at my gut. My body remained coiled tight as the words left my lips dryly:

"I do not know exactly what goes on inside your head."

He adjusted his posture with a dominant, towering pride, locking his hands behind his back in a commanding, military-like stance filled with absolute superiority. He scoffed:

"You do not know? Yet only seconds ago, you seemed entirely certain and absolute in your premature words and accusations against me."

I took a rapid, searing breath to gather whatever remained of my fading courage, speaking with a visible, nervous defensiveness while my fingers twitched anxiously over my bag:

"Because every single demand you have imposed upon me since I entered this office has been utterly bizarre and abnormal! Yesterday, you also deliberately bypassed everyone to demand that I specifically bring you coffee."

He raised his eyebrows with a strange, eerie calmness that signaled his absolute confidence that he held every single card in this game. He spoke curtly, his cold tone unchanging:

"And what else?"

His calm words and balanced posture did not signal anything good; rather, his demeanor perfectly mirrored the terrifying tranquility that precedes a devastating storm. Yet, my rage and blind stubbornness pushed me to keep talking, driving me forward with zero regard for the consequences:

"Yesterday, you forced me to take measurements and review complex design blueprints for garments and footwear in an incredibly short window of time that no regular person could meet and that was on my very first day at the company! And today, you demand that I permanently arrive half an hour before all the senior employees!"

He tilted his head with a lethal, emotionless coldness. His piercing eyes, resembling those of a hunting hawk, did not waver from the details of my pale face as he countered with the same provoking question:

"And what else? Are there any more grievances, Miss Miller?"

My breathing became shallow and rapid under an intense pressure, making me feel as though the oxygen were actively being drained from his office. I snapped, my eyes blazing with pure resentment and wrath:

"And today, you repeat the exact same stunt, telling me to fetch your coffee in an insulting, commanding phrasing, while your private secretary sits outside with no actual work to do!"

He slowly lowered his hands to his sides, his dark eyes narrowing into a sharp, rigid, and terrifying slit that struck an immediate chord of dread deep within my soul. He spoke in a dry tone that severed every single thread of hope:

"So... it is entirely clear to me that you are openly objecting to and criticizing my methods of work and my management of this establishment, Miss Miller?"

My stomach clenched in genuine terror, and my limbs tensed at the sudden, crushing reality of losing my job. I tried to subtly shift my weight backward, eyeing the distance to the door, speaking with an obvious tremor seizing my throat:

"No... that is not exactly what I meant. But I believe your targeted treatment of me is unfair and abusive, without any valid justification."

He repeated that powerful word after me with a strange, menacing quietness, raising his eyebrows in overt mockery and clear disdain for my ego:

"Unfair?"

I held my head high and locked my frame despite the terror consuming me from the inside, uttering a faint affirmation that left my mouth with great difficulty:

"Yes. Unfair."

He passed his broad palm over his chiseled jaw with agonizing slowness and a provoking calm, taking in the unmistakable signs of fear and panic that had begun to rewrite themselves across my pale features. He murmured softly:

"Hmm... a very dangerous and daring confession coming from a new employee who only started working yesterday and possesses zero experience regarding the rules of this establishment."

In that exact, horrifying moment, the cold blood froze solid in my veins and the reality hit me like a devastating lightning bolt. I realized with absolute clarity that I had made a fatal, catastrophic mistake because of my sharp tongue and blind impulsiveness. I should have never uttered such words in front of a man wielding his level of influence and absolute authority! Desperately trying to patch up my wounded pride, I muttered with a suppressed defiance:

"I am well aware that I only started working yesterday, Mr. Vincetti, but it doesn’t take a genius to comprehend the nature of what you are doing and trying to force upon me."

He took one small, additional step toward me, completely obliterating whatever remained of a safe boundary between us. He spoke with a biting sarcasm that practically dripped with lethal venom:

"You have deduced with that brilliant intellect of yours that I am treating you with blatant injustice, and that I am trying by all means to take revenge against you simply because you were late... is that your grand conclusion, Miss Miller?"

Oh my God, for heaven’s sake! What kind of disaster had I dragged myself into with this reckless impulse? But the words had already fled my mouth; there was no retrieving them now, and I couldn’t show weakness or offer an apology to this tyrant. I raised my pale face with a fabricated majesty, speaking in a voice I fought hard to keep steady and strong:

"Yes, that is exactly correct, Mr. Vincetti."

He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me intensely as if analyzing every single detail of my defiance, and spoke with a terrifying stillness that made me feel the official end of my journey at this firm:

"Do you not see, in the depths of your soul, that this judgment you have just passed is merely a prejudice entirely devoid of evidence?"

I shook my head in absolute refusal and blind stubbornness, speaking in a hurried manner that exposed my internal chaos:

"Prejudice? No, absolutely not. Actions speak clearly for themselves."

He spoke in a dry, cold tone saturated with the absolute dominance and unyielding power he possessed as the undisputed head of this place:

"So, you possess enough audacity to pass a final, harsh judgment on a person you met and came to know only two days ago."

To me, everything was as clear as the midday sun blazing in the sky right before my eyes. I didn’t need to spend months or long years to uncover the truth that he was an arrogant, abusive, and wretched man who drew his power from crushing the employees at this firm! My jaw clenched with sheer obstinacy, and I resolved to stand my ground against him:

"Everything has become perfectly clear and evident before me, Mr. Vincetti."

Suddenly, and with a shocking, abrupt shift that completely redirected the course of the entire conversation, his smile widened in an incredibly provocative, cryptic, and deeply unsettling manner. A cunning, bold, and wicked gleam flashed in his eyes, sending a jolt of shock straight through my thoughts. He bent his massive torso and large frame toward me with a lethal slowness, bringing his face dangerously close to my ear, speaking in a tone dripping with absolute superiority:

"Then... based on this fair logic of yours, it would be entirely within my right, and completely just, for me to also pass my own personal judgment on you at this very exact moment."

My eyes widened in immense apprehension and a sweeping anxiety that paralyzed my nerves. My diaphragm shuddered with a genuine, raw dread that took over my racing heart, and I stammered out in clear, unadulterated fear:

"What... what do you mean by that?"

He locked his gaze with excessive force directly into the depths of my wide, terrified eyes, completely freezing my ability to move. He spoke in a rough, low, and dry voice dripping with a mocking contempt that utterly slaughtered whatever remained of my dignity:

"A girl who attends a formal job interview at a respectable fashion design company while carrying a plastic dick inside her bag... I will certainly hold a very specific judgment regarding you, and regarding the true nature of your morals, Miss Miller!"