Humiliated

Evangeline POV

My hands trembled as I stood before him, the weight of his words pressing down on me. The boardroom's silence was deafening, each pair of eyes avoiding mine, their pity palpable. I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself, but the humiliation was overwhelming.

He looked at me, his gaze cold and unyielding. "Lateness is not tolerated," he said. "It's an act that hinders the growth of this company. What made you late?" He asked, his voice devoid of inflection, devoid of humanity

"Personal matters," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. He stared at me. Silent. Like he was waiting for me to realize how irrelevant that excuse was. I felt microscopic under that gaze and then he nodded once slow, detached.

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as I felt the weight of everyone's eyes. I had faced so much, my husband's betrayal, the pain of separation from my son, but this moment, this public shaming, cut deeper than I could have imagined.

The new CEO. The man with the voice that sliced, the presence that dominated. The same man who’d just called me out in front of twenty-five colleagues and a table full of executives like I was a misbehaving child.

I didn’t remember walking to my seat after that. I didn’t remember sitting. I only remembered the sudden dryness in my mouth and the heavy thud of humiliation thudding behind my ribs.

He turned away from me like I wasn’t even worth another glance and began addressing the board.

“Lateness is the first sign of decay,” He said, pacing slowly at the head of the table, his tone as polished and lethal as his suit. “It corrodes performance. Weakens discipline. And we don’t have space for that here.”

Every word felt like it was aimed directly at me, though he never said my name again.

I stared at the notepad in front of me, blank, pretending to write, pretending not to notice the pitying glances sliding in my direction.

It was worse than anger. Pity. My face burned. And somehow, that was worse.

Because it wasn’t just my pride that cracked under his words. It was something deeper. Something I hadn’t even known was still vulnerable inside me.

I had survived everything up until now. The slow disintegration of my marriage. The nights alone in bed while my husband lied and drifted further away. The tight smile I’d worn every morning for my son, so he wouldn’t know I was breaking. I’d endured custody threats, the lawyers, the papers.

But somehow, this... being spoken to me like I didn’t matter, like I wasn’t worth the air in the room, it pierced through all of it.

As the meeting dragged on, I barely absorbed a word. The CEO laid out performance metrics like weapons on a table, new KPIs, cost-cutting protocols, a ruthless restructuring plan that would make heads roll. Literally and figuratively.

No one dared question him. A few people nodded along with tough enthusiasm. But I could feel the undercurrent in the room: fear. Everyone was scared. He had that effect.

Eventually, after nearly an hour of sharp directives and colder silences, he finally closed his file.

“That’s all for today,” he said, not even looking up. “Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped against the floor. The shuffle of footsteps filled the room as people stood up, eager to escape, to leave the boardroom.

But I didn’t move. I stayed seated, my fists clenched in my lap, my breath shallow. I could feel the burn of tears behind my eyes again but this time it wasn’t sorrow.

It was fury. My chest was a riot of emotions I couldn’t name. Embarrassment, yes. But more than that, there was something raw rising up in me. A need to demand some kind of dignity back from the man who had stripped it with so little effort.

I stood up slowly. My legs were unsteady beneath me.

Nora turned at the door, already halfway out. Her eyes met mine, questioning while I was still hesitating to leave.

“Eva?” she called.

I shook my head slightly, just enough to tell her not to interfere.

She hesitated, glancing between me and the CEO “Eva,” she warned softly again.

But I was already walking. Each step toward him felt louder than it should have in the silence.

Damien remained where he was, casually flipping through a folder like the room wasn’t emptying around him. Like I wasn’t even there. The disrespect wasn’t even subtle.

I stopped three feet away from him but he didn’t look up.

“What kind of embarrassment was that?” I asked. The words came out sharper than I expected. Stronger. Louder.

He looked up. His eyes met mine slowly, steadily, without the slightest hint of surprise. As if he’d expected this. As if he wanted it.

“You publicly humiliated me,” I said, my voice low now, too close to trembling. “In front of everyone.”

His expression didn’t change. “You were late.”

“I had personal matters like I said.”

“And I have a company to run,” he said calmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This isn’t a charity to sympathize with the weak. It’s a corporation. I don’t tolerate distractions.”

I stared at him, anger coiling tighter in my chest.

“You don’t tolerate humanity either, do you?” I said.

Still, he didn’t blink. “Are you finished?”

“No,” I snapped. “Have you ever lost something? Or someone? Or are you just a cold-hearted robot with a God complex and an unhealthy addiction to power who enjoys belittling others? Perhaps a misogynist_” I didn't finish my words.

Nora’s voice cut through the room like a siren. “Evangeline!”

I froze. She stood at the door now, her eyes wide, panic etched across her face.

I looked back at the CEO. His expression hadn’t changed. Not one muscle twitched. His silence was louder than any outburst.

I swallowed hard, the fight draining out of me. My pulse roared in my ears as the reality of what I had just said caught up to me.

What the hell had I done?

I bowed my head slightly, barely. Enough to acknowledge that I’d crossed a line, but not enough to apologize. Taking a deep breath. Realizing the gravity of my outburst, I turned on my heel, and left the room, my heart pounding with fear, my heels clicking loudly in the silence, my lungs burning with each breath I forced in.

I didn’t look at Nora. I didn’t look at anyone.I walked straight down the hall, down the stairs, out of the room.

I didn’t stop walking until I reached my office. My hands shook as I gripped my office table.

I had just confronted the most feared man in the building. No, not just confronted, I had challenged him.

I stared at my reflection in the glass mirror window. What did that make me? Brave? Stupid? Probably both.

My phone buzzed. I jumped, my heart nearly launching out of my chest. I grabbed it with trembling fingers.

One new email. Subject: Performance Review Notification. My breath caught as I opened it.

You are required to attend a one-on-one performance review with CEO Damien Hunter Today. 5:30 PM. Executive Office – Top Floor. Attendance is mandatory.

No other explanation. I stared at the screen until the letters blurred.

He wasn’t firing me. Not yet. But he was summoning me. Alone. After hours. In his office.

My stomach twisted. I had poked the bear. And now the bear was calling me in.