Chapter 212
Chapter 212:
Abbie rose from her chair, hands gripping the desk edge, tears rising instantly. “Dr. Erickson — I pulled the parameters exactly as you requested yesterday p>
“Are you implying my instructions were flawed?” June leaned in close. “Not only are you completely incompetent, but you’re a liar. You are a useless waste of payroll p>
Abbie lowered her head. Tears fell onto the scattered papers. In the corner, the two informants pulled out their phones simultaneously, thumbs flying.
The executive hallway door opened. Brogan walked out carrying a coffee, heard the commotion, set the cup down, and crossed the floor quickly.
“June, if there’s a serious performance issue, we need to document it and let HR handle it properly,” he said with measured calm. “We can put her on an improvement plan, or reassign her to another department if necessary p>
𝗙𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝘂𝘀 𝗼𝗻
June turned a look of absolute ice on him and pushed his hand away when he reached for her arm.
“My clinical trials have zero margin for error,” she snapped. “She is dragging the entire department down. Am I not permitted to discipline my own staff p>
Brogan studied Abbie’s pale, tear-streaked face and exhaled.
“No,” June cut in before he could speak, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s an idiot, but she knows my laboratory’s equipment layout and my data archiving system. I don’t have the time or patience to train someone new from scratch p>
She turned her gaze back to Abbie.
“Wipe your face,” she said, her voice brutal and flat. “You are staying until midnight to redo this entire list. If it isn’t on my desk by tomorrow morning, don’t bother coming back p>
She pivoted on her heel and marched into her corner office, slamming the door.
Brogan stood in the aisle, brow furrowed. He pulled a tissue from the box on the desk and held it out to Abbie.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “She’s under enormous pressure. Try not to take it personally p>
Abbie accepted the tissue. “Thank you, Mr. Clements,” she said, her voice breaking on cue.
But as she bent her head to wipe her eyes, the faintest curve of triumph touched the corner of her mouth — invisible to everyone.
The floor slowly returned to its nervous rhythm. The informants were entirely convinced. Inside her office, June stood behind the blinds and watched the room settle. She lifted her coffee mug and took a slow, satisfied sip. The performance had been flawless. Alycia’s guard would be completely down.
She turned back toward her desk — and a sharp, tearing pain ripped across her right wrist.
She looked down. The forceful motion of slamming the binder had torn the deep laceration open again — the wound from the hospital. A thick line of bright red was soaking rapidly through the white gauze, beginning to trail toward her hand.
June hissed through her teeth. She set her coffee down and pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk, reaching for the emergency first-aid kit.
Before her fingers found the gauze, the office door swung open.