Chapter 139/Exposed Before the Boss

Chapter 139: 139/Exposed Before the Boss

Chapter 139

Stephanie’s Point of View

I remained frozen in my miserable position on the cold wooden floor, my entire frame trembling so violently that I didn’t even dare to draw a full breath; it was as if the air in the room had morphed into a crushing block of lead resting heavily on my chest.

My arm was still stretched stiffly beneath the black leather sofa, my fist clenched in blind desperation around that cursed pin to the point where its silver edges dug into the palm of my hand with a sharp sting.

My mind was screaming in a hysterical panic that entirely paralyzed my limbs, preventing me from formulating any rational reaction:* What the hell am I supposed to do now?! The tear isn’t minor... it’s massive, glaring, and completely exposing me!* I can distinctly feel the freezing drafts of the room fanning the bare skin of my backside! The mere realization that my narcissistic boss who actively hunted for my every mistake was standing at his full, towering height directly behind me, seeing exactly what lay bare... made my every sense freeze.

I desperately wished my soul would depart my body at that exact second to spare me from this humiliating agony.

His deep, authoritative, and stoic voice descended from above, cutting through the terrifying silence that was on the verge of tearing my heart from its place. "Miss Miller... do you genuinely intend to sleep on the rug?! Or have you simply not found that pin yet?"

I retracted my hand beneath the sofa with a frantic, lightning-fast jerk. Lifting my head in an involuntary, terror-driven motion, I desperately attempted to sit back on my bent legs, shrinking into myself in a rapid maneuver to conceal my exposed body from him. But at that exact, cursed second, the ultimate catastrophe struck, utterly obliterating whatever remained of my dignity.

The sharp, unmistakable sound of coarse fabric tearing echoed through the silence once more louder and far more violent than the first time announcing a fresh, gaping tear that widened under my sudden movement.

A dead, suffocating silence blanketed the room, a silence so terrifying that I could hear the frantic pounding of my heart drumming wildly in my ears. I felt my face, my neck, and my entire body erupt into a searing, blistering heat.

The blood of pure mortification and volatile emotion rushed to my head with a force that violently blurred my vision. I bit down ruthlessly on my lower lip, wishing with every fiber of my being that the ground would split open and swallow me into its abyssal depths to deliver me from this harrowing scandal.

Vincenti spoke with a suspicious, icy detachment, not a single muscle in his face twitching. "Miss Miller... the pin. Where is it?"

Damn this heartless, unfeeling creature! Did this entire exposing spectacle and that horrific tearing sound manifest right before his very eyes, yet he still stood there with absolute coldness, demanding a cursed pin?! Was he deaf?! Was he blind?! Or was he deliberately weaponizing this stoic indifference to amplify the weight of my humiliation and crush my spirit?!

I extended my hand toward him with an agonizing slowness, my fingers visibly trembling, not daring to lift my eyes to meet his. I offered him the silver pin with a weak, fading touch, speaking in a choked voice that forced the words out with immense strain. "Here... this is the pin."

He smoothly took the pin between his long fingers, then looked down at me from his towering height, stating in a tone entirely devoid of empathy: "Are you going to remain sitting there on the floor like a statue?"

He asked his frigid question with total simplicity, as if he were a blind man entirely oblivious to the catastrophic scandal sitting right in front of him. I lifted my gaze to him, my eyes wide with sheer bewilderment as tears of oppression and humiliation shimmered in my pupils. I spoke in a fractured, trembling whisper: "Mr. Vincenti... I cannot stand up or move from my position right now."

He knit his brows slightly, tilting his head with a deeply provocative coldness. "And what exactly is the problem?"

I blinked in burning shock, my breath rattling with volatile emotion as I snapped: "Did you seriously not hear and see what just occurred, for heaven’s sake?!"

He answered with a stoic, unreadable face, entirely stripped of any human expression, while his hawk-like eyes remained locked onto my face. "I see... what, exactly?"

Was he actively playing mind games with me, insulting my intelligence in this sick manner?! It was absolutely impossible that he hadn’t heard the sharp rip of trousers splitting in this dead-silent room, or that he hadn’t seen the fabric cleaving apart. I spoke in a faint, fractured whisper that almost vanished under the sheer weight of my shame: "Did you truly not see?!"

He scrutinized me with an intense, calculated gaze, his eyes traveling along my body with a lethal slowness. Then, the corner of his lips tilted into a biting, deeply insulting smirk as he delivered in a calm, harsh tone: "I see quite clearly that you are facing severe financial difficulties, Miss Miller."

I gasped in a violent shock that felt like a physical slap across my face. "Excuse me?! What do you mean by that?"

He continued in a dominant, condescending tone, adjusting the cuff of his crisp white shirt: "Your clothes are cheap and rip with a pathetic ease at the simplest bending movement. Exactly how many years have passed since you first wore these worn-out trousers?"

I swallowed the lump of bitterness that scorched my throat, feeling the tears of pure oppression on the verge of spilling from my eyes as I spoke in a choked voice: "Mr. Vincenti... this has absolutely nothing to do with money!"

He shrugged his shoulders with cold indifference, stepping a fraction to the side as he stated callously: "Or is it that your weight has excessively increased recently, and these measurements no longer accommodate your movements?"

I froze in my tracks, feeling the raw insult and degradation gnawing at what remained of my honor and my wounded pride as a woman. I locked my resentful gaze onto him, stating in a sharp, shaking voice: "Mr. Vincenti... such language and insinuations are completely inappropriate coming from an employer!"

He fired back with a sharp, piercing look, his eyelids narrowing cruelly. "What is truly inappropriate, Miss Miller... is your trousers ripping in this explicit manner right in front of me."

At that exact second, a strange, dark, and menacing glint flashed within his eyes, sending a surge of pure dread through my veins. He took an additional step toward me, his towering presence looming heavily over my head, and delivered in a low, rasped tone that carried a repulsive, arrogant accusation: "Are you attempting to seduce me with these vulgar antics, Miss Miller?"

My eyes widened in a shock that utterly paralyzed my soul, the words of defense dying in my throat at the sheer audacity of his words. I stammered in a chaotic, agitated panic: "What kind of insane talk is this?! How dare you hurled such a cheap, baseless accusation at me so easily?!"

He stood his ground with a sickening confidence and intolerable arrogance, his voice dripping with supreme condescension: "The strong, unusual perfume you deliberately chose to wear to my private residence... your vulgar method of flattery and staring at my body when you saw me already dressed... and now your backside is completely bare and exposed right before me... what else could all of this possibly signify, Miss Miller?"

I was stunned, entirely paralyzed by the sheer audacity of his sick, narcissistic deductions and a mind that twisted reality solely to feed his bloated ego. I couldn’t find a single syllable to hurl back through my burning bewilderment.

He calmly turned his torso, stating in a commanding, tyrannical tone: "Regardless... I am a man who faces numerous seductions on a daily basis from countless women. Therefore, I have grown entirely indifferent to such cheap tricks. Now, stand up and place the other pin in my shirt cuff so I can depart."