The next morning, Nick almost handed in his resignation when he saw his boss arrive, looking like a walking disaster. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his usual arctic demeanor had somehow dipped to sub-zero. It was as if the man had morphed into Pluto itself.
Nick swallowed, patting his chest for moral support as he mentally braced himself for the frosty wrath that was sure to come.
But what really set alarm bells ringing was the sight of his boss sneaking around the office like a cat on the prowl. It wasn't his usual cool, controlled stride. Instead, Jared Petrovski moved with an almost comical, nervous precision as he hovered near the Clerk's office door, peeking in with the kind of intensity one might use when trying to steal food without getting caught.
It was... odd.
Nick watched from a safe distance, wide-eyed. Jared didn't stay long. He took one glance and exited the room, colder than when he had entered. Nick craned his neck to see what had put that extra layer of ice on his boss's already glacial mood.
Ah, there it was—the same scene that had become far too familiar recently.
Jerica, the boss-lady, sat sipping her coffee, and who else but Harold Braddock was leaning on her desk, looking all too comfortable in her space.
Nick winced. He had seen them together before, but today something was different. Yesterday, Jared had barely flinched. But today? Today, the frost in the air felt lethal.
Did something happen last night? Nick thought, eyes darting toward the man as he stormed off. Maybe she didn't come home after leaving with Harold last night? That would explain the frosty air of doom looming over the office.
And that frost wasn't just for show. The Siberian Beast was in full force that day. Jared's opponents in court never stood a chance. Each one was obliterated, crushed beneath the sheer, unrelenting force of his cold fury. Even the judge, who had presided over hundreds of cases, seemed rattled. At one point, the judge actually postponed an embezzlement case, likely fearing the Beast would take someone's head if they let the trial go on any longer.
Nick shook his head in disbelief. It wasn't just a bad day—it was a storm brewing. The whole office felt it, from the junior staff to the paralegals. And Nick? He mentally prepared himself for more frostbite.
Little did he know that he was left shivering for the rest of the week.
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Jerica carefully placed her glasses in their case and let her head fall onto the desk. She was done—mentally, physically, and emotionally. It was four in the afternoon, and the mere thought of surviving another hour at work made her groan internally. All she wanted was to hear the sweet sound of the clock striking five so she could escape.
For days, she'd been silently protesting at home. Refusing to eat anything Jared cooked, avoiding the laundry, and, oddly enough, obsessively cleaning the house. She hated feeling dust beneath her feet, but at the same time, vacuuming had become her form of therapy. The hum of the vacuum drowned out everything else—the nagging voice of her husband, her own spiraling thoughts.
It was petty, maybe even childish, but she had her pride.
She missed eating properly, though. Pizza wasn't dinner, coffee wasn't breakfast, and store-bought sandwiches? Ugh. Even the famous sandwich from that popular chain couldn't compare to the ones Jared used to make.
Four years of his pampering had ruined her taste buds, and deep down, she wanted to give in, to let him cook her one of those warm, hearty meals again.
But no. She couldn't cave. She couldn't let him see her as weak. She was determined to show him she could survive on her own, that she wasn't some pitiful kitten caught in a downpour. She could hold out, even if her stomach growled in betrayal.
"It's Friday…" came a dramatic sigh from beside her.
Jerica opened one eye, glancing over to see Lila rolling her chair closer, her expression dripping with anticipation.
"So?" Jerica mumbled, even though she already knew what Lila was about to suggest. She could almost hear the gushing that was about to follow. The other night at the club, Lila had been all over Harold Braddock, and now, after he'd gallantly dropped her home when she got too drunk, Lila was convinced he was smitten with her.
"You know you had fun the other night," Lila grinned, leaning in like she was about to share a juicy secret. "Why not come with us again tonight? Same club, same vibe. What do you say?"
Jerica's head throbbed at the memory of that night, and she could feel a headache coming on. She wasn't the type to snap, but lately, she'd been wound up so tight that even the smallest things set her off. She hated how she was changing, and she hated it even more and she couldn't seem to stop it.
"No," she said, keeping her voice measured, trying to hold back the growing irritation. Lila was single, and looking for love, and Jerica wanted to be supportive. But it was hard to muster any enthusiasm for romance when her own marriage felt like it was sinking into quicksand.
"Please, Jerica…" Lila whined, rolling closer and grabbing onto Jerica's arm, invading her personal space. "Just for a little while! Come out with us, then you can sneak off like last time. I need to get Harold back to my place tonight…"
Jerica's patience was running on fumes. Lila's clinginess and whining were only making her want to scream. She could feel her frustration boiling beneath the surface.
"Jerica, come on. Let me have a hot, steamy night with a handsome man! I want to have mind-blowing sex tonight. Unlike you, I don't have a husband who f*cks me senseless every night…"
Snap.
That was it. The last thread holding Jerica's patience together snapped.
"Harold's not going to sleep with you, Lila!" Jerica blurted out, her voice sharp with frustration. "If he was interested, he would've already taken you to bed!"