HIS PAST: HIS BRIDE
Still, I straighten my shoulders, one cold supervisor won’t define my experience here, finally, Anita knocks gently on a large wooden door.
“Come in,” a smooth voice responds from inside.
The office is spacious but not overly extravagant, floor-to-ceiling windows offer a stunning view of the city skyline and behind a wide mahogany desk sits Tabitha herself.
She’s poised, elegant, and effortlessly powerful as usual, her fitted burgundy dress complements her dark skin beautifully. When she looks up, her gaze is sharp
“Welcome finally Bella,” she says, standing.
Her presence commands attention without effort.
“Yes, ma,” I reply.
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