Chapter 30
Ms. wrapped tightly around his neck, as if he were her lifeline. They whispered something.
As I entered the office, I found Racquelle sitting on Vernon’s lap. She clung to him like a vine, her arms entwined before breaking into muffled laughter.
“Ms. Smith, I ask why you called for me?” I asked calmly.
Racquelle acted as if she had not heard a word. She continued her private conversation with Vernon, treating me like I was invisible.
“Ms. Smith, what did you need from me?” I repeated patiently.
Racquelle’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by disgust and fury. She pointed at me and shouted, “Shut up! Did I give you permission to speak, Joshua? Know your place. When I haven’t addressed you, you stand there like the dog you are and wait for your master’s orders, understand?”
I stood steadily and nodded. “Yes, Ms. Smith.”
This exchange caught Vernon’s attention. He looked at me with amused interest and beckoned with his finger. “Here, doggy, come here.”
I remained still and silent. My reaction only fueled Racquelle’s rage, and she grabbed the glass ashtray from her desk and hurled it at my head.
The impact was loud as it struck my forehead. Blood began trickling down my face, but I stayed motionless, as if nothing had happened. Racquelle shrieked, “Joshua, are you deaf? Why did you ignore Vernon!”
I replied, “I have no obligation to serve him.”
Vernon’s expression darkened instantly. He turned to Racquelle with a scowl. “Racquelle, didn’t you say this dog of yours was completely obedient? If he dares to disobey you now, he might turn on his master one day. Shouldn’t you train this disobedient mutt properly?”
Racquelle’s face twisted with anger. She quickly stood up, grabbed her steaming cup of coffee, and threw the scalding liquid in my face.
As I instinctively raised my hand to wipe my burning skin, Racquelle stated coldly, “Did I say you could wipe your face, Joshua?” My hand mid-motion before slowly lowering it back to my side. Meanwhile, Racquelle seemed satisfied with my response.
She turned to Vernon triumphantly and declared, “See? This is how well-trained my dog is! If he ever dares to bite me, I’ll have his head chopped off and fed to real dogs!” Her voice swelled with pride, as if I were a pet she had personally trained to submit to her every whim. Then, she grabbed another cup of coffee and poured it on the floor. She commanded, “Clean up this mess! And if I see a single stain left, you’ll be sorry.”
As I calmly moved to get the mop from the bathroom, Racquelle stopped me. She looked down at me contemptuously and ordered, “Use your own clothes to clean it!”
I should have expected this—it was always the same humiliating tactics with her. I removed my jacket and knelt to clean up the spilled coffee inch by inch. Vernon watched with cruel amusement, shaking his head and smirking. “Well, well, what an obedient little dog indeed!”