RHEA POV:
And the coffee! Oh, the irony. The same coffee that had cost me precious minutes, half my dignity, and apparently half my soul, had become a weapon of potential revenge in my mind. If only it had been scalding enough to scald the smugness right off him. If only he'd felt even a fraction of the chaos he caused me daily, maybe—just maybe—he'd understand the torture he inflicted on everyone around him.
I imagined it vividly. The cup trembling in my hands, steam rising like a warning, the scent strong enough to make him flinch, and—splat!—right on his polished suit, right on his perfectly starched shirt, and for good measure, a little on that arrogant tie he probably thought was the pinnacle of his power. And then, just as he recoiled in horror and rage, I would slowly smile and whisper, "Good morning, sir. Enjoy your coffee."
