Darya had a placid smile on her face, her emotions unreadable.
Felicia carried on her drunken, slurred speech. ‘You cooked for us, washed our clothes, cleaned the house. Oh, wait, let’s see what else you did. Oh, right, you made our beds, dusted the furniture. You even cleaned my toilet! Washed Mum’s car. Mowed the lawn for Dad. Picked up after us.’
She laughed like a maniac. ‘You rubbed Mum’s feet once! I saw that! You were like a dog begging for any scrap of attention from the owner. I wish I’d recorded it.’
Imogen inched away from Darya.
Her cheeks were bleeding, but she was no longer concerned about the pain.
Darya was her boss.
Could she still keep her job after overhearing her boss’s humiliating past?
Should she report what happened tonight to President Avery?
