As she walked toward Daniel, the shards of the broken mug crunched beneath her feet like a harsh reminder of the storm brewing inside her. The warm coffee in her grip trembled slightly, threatening to spill, but she tightened her fingers around the cup, her knuckles white with tension. Carter's eyes met hers, filled with pity and concern, but Lina knew he couldn't intervene. Not now. Not with Daniel.
"Goddammit," she muttered under her breath, her heart racing with anticipation. She placed the second cup of coffee in front of Daniel, silently praying that this one would be good enough. She was afraid—no, she was fucking terrified. Her breath caught when Daniel reached for the cup. He brought it to his lips, took a long sip, then said… nothing.
Lina didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad one. But silence was better than yelling, and definitely better than flying ceramics. She thought maybe—just maybe—the sugary black coffee was to his liking. She had overcompensated, turning it into something closer to syrup because he'd said earlier he wanted sugar. The man didn't know what the hell he wanted, and she was just trying to keep up.
Maybe he wanted it like that.
She inhaled sharply, whispered a quiet thank you to God, and stood there, waiting for the storm to pass.
But it didn't.
Daniel stood up slowly. Calmly. Too calmly.
And then, with zero warning, he poured the fucking coffee right on her.
Lina froze, her eyes wide with horror as the sticky warmth of the sugary coffee clung to her chest and stomach, seeping through the thin fabric of her blouse. Her hands shot up like she could somehow stop it, but it was too late.
"What the actual fuck?" she thought to herself, her mind racing with anger and humiliation. She looked like a deer caught in headlights—except the headlights were hellfire and humiliation.
Carter stood instantly, his voice low but tense. "Mr. Viggo, that was too much," he said, his words laced with a hint of annoyance.
But Daniel didn't even look at him. His eyes remained on Lina, cold and cruel, like he was enjoying her discomfort.
"Make another one," he said flatly, waving her off like she wasn't standing there dripping in coffee and tears.
Lina felt like she was going to lose it. She was seething with anger and humiliation, her body trembling with rage.
Just as she was about to turn and head to the break room to make another cup of coffee, Daniel stopped her. "I don't feel like having coffee again," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Lina's eyes narrowed, her anger and frustration boiling over. She felt like she was being toyed with, like Daniel was enjoying her discomfort. She turned and walked out of the office, tears streaming down her face.
As she reached her own office, her phone rang. It was Bella, her voice cheerful and upbeat. But Lina couldn't respond. She just burst out crying, her body shaking with each sob.
"Bella," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Lina, what's wrong?" Bella asked, her voice filled with concern. "Did something happen?"
But Lina couldn't answer. She just kept crying, her body wracked with sobs. Bella tried to calm her down, but Lina couldn't be consoled. She felt like she was losing control, like she was drowning in a sea of emotions.
After a while, Lina ended the call, still crying. She sat at her desk, staring blankly at the wall, feeling helpless and humiliated. She didn't know what she had done to deserve that kind of treatment from Daniel. She thought back to their interactions, trying to pinpoint what might have triggered his behavior. But she couldn't think of anything.
She got up and walked to the office toilet, locking the door behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror, and her reflection stared back at her, red-eyed and puffy-faced. She felt like she was looking at a stranger, someone who was broken and vulnerable.
"Fuck this," she muttered to herself, her voice shaking with anger. "Fuck Daniel Viggo."
As she stood in the small office toilet, Lina let out a deep sigh and began to rinse the sticky coffee from her blouse under the tap. The water was cool, but it did little to calm her frazzled nerves. She stared at the stained fabric, now heavy and wet in her hands, and couldn't help but cry again.
The tears streamed down her face as she thought about the humiliation she had endured at the hands of Daniel Viggo. She felt like she was losing control, like she was drowning in a sea of emotions. The water continued to run, a steady beat that seemed to match the rhythm of her heart.
She dabbed uselessly at the blouse with rough paper towels, the material beginning to shred and cling to the blouse. It was useless. With a sinking heart, she accepted that she would have to endure the cold, uncomfortable stain for the rest of the day.
The damp blouse clung to her, a constant, chilling reminder. "Ugh, this disgusting feeling," she muttered to herself, wrinkling her nose in distaste. It wasn't just the physical discomfort; it was the mark of the incident itself, seeping into her entire afternoon.
In her mind, she unleashed a torrent of curses on Daniel, wishing him all sorts of bad luck and misfortune. "May your coffee always be too hot, may your suits always be wrinkled, may your meetings always run late," she silently fumed, her anger and resentment boiling over.
The day passed in a prolonged state of miserable self-consciousness. The air conditioning made the wet blouse feel glacial, and avoided moving from her chair as much as possible. When evening finally arrived, she was gathering her things, when Carter entered her office.
"Lina," he said, his voice gentle and slightly awkward. "Let me drive you home." He offered no other explanation, but the quiet sympathy in his eyes said everything. It was a simple kindness, offered for her alone. After a day spent in cold, stained fabric, this small act of compassion pierced through her lingering humiliation. She gave a slow nod, her gratitude now fixed firmly on the man before her—for seeing her distress, and for choosing, unprompted, to offer a moment of solace.