Mannie’s POV
I should have known today would go wrong from the moment I walked in and saw Evan grinning like a shark near my desk. The department manager, Mr. Song, stood beside him, flipping through a folder, pretending not to hear Evan's smug little voice.
“Mannie Twain,” Mr. Song said without looking at me. “You’ll be assisting janitorial today. Floors eleven and twelve.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
Evan stepped forward, arms folded, voice dripping with false concern. “The janitors are short-staffed, and you used to be in housekeeping, right? Just helping out the company, that’s all.”
Liar.
He wasn’t even trying to hide it. This was punishment—for rejecting him, for daring to speak up, for not falling in line like some scared, desperate woman.
I could feel the blood rush to my ears.
