The smirk vanished from Marylyn's face, replaced by a flicker of anger. Her entourage shifted uncomfortably, the tension palpable. Her hands twitched, but she couldn't even fold them into fists like she wished. Her long artificial nails would tear through her skin if she dared.
Without wasting more time unnecessarily than I had already done, I brushed past her, nudging her aside with my shoulder as I walked away. My exterior remained calm, without any negative chills. I left her swimming in the bitter taste of her own dose.
Reaching Dr. Aldrich's office, I knocked softly before entering. He was there, shining bright like the morning sun in his baby-blue, three-piece, Italian-made suit. I admired how he remained sharp and calm despite the situation with his son. He was the true definition
