My heels don’t make much noise on the carpet of the office, which is annoying because, in my head, I’m walking toward the meeting room where Warren and Theo and the entire fucking board are gathered like a movie montage before a big battle scene. A woman on a mission. In my head, my chin is tipped high, a small, sneaky smile playing on my lips, my heels clacking in a furious staccato against hardwood, the soundtrack for my revenge.
