The sound of water trickling in the sink of the women’s restroom on the 21st floor was soothing, but the atmosphere in the room was far from peaceful. Evalina Wilson stood before the large mirror, wearing a fresh powder-blue satin blouse she had just retrieved from her emergency locker. Her damp hair had been partially dried, and now she was carefully fixing the makeup that had been smudged by Serena Jackson’s coffee attack that morning.
Her hand was steady as she applied her lipstick, but her eyes were sharp. The reflection staring back at her showed no sign of weakness or defeat. She wasn’t about to give them that satisfaction.
But then, a mocking laugh echoed behind her, causing the faint smile on her lips to stiffen.
“A pretty face doesn’t always come with dignity, does it?”
Evalin
