Chapter 10
Tuesday morning arrived gray and damp. Parking lot smelled of wet asphalt and gas station coffee from diner across street. I arrived early, 7:42 a.m., unlocked office, set intake summary on Russo desk at 8:00 a.m. sharp as required. Hands cold despite heater running.
Jen waited in her car outside, engine idling. Copy of boundary letter in her tote. Plan simple: lunch 11:30, door open, witness present, daylight.
Russo arrived at 8:15, black shirt pressed, shoes polished black, trousers dark. Nodded at summary. "Complete. Good."
Morning dragged through filing and phone. At 10:50 Mrs. Chen passed desk, eyes on floor, said nothing. Knew Tuesday mattered. At 11:20 Russo stepped out to check lot. I texted Jen: come up now.
Jen entered at 11:31, brown coat, calm expression, sat in second chair I had placed near door. Door stayed open per plan. Hall air moved through.
Russo returned, paused seeing Jen. Frown flickered. "Elena? This meeting?"
I stood, did not kneel, paper in hand, voice steady but breath shallow. Kept language from draft, short, standing only.
"Mr. Russo, I need to set limit," I said. "I will not kneel for corrective lessons. I will complete work tasks standing, keep office locked, meet expectations. Kneeling not professional expectation for me. Want to work standing."
Silence stretched. Clock ticked loud. Russo eyes narrowed slightly, same look from video but now mask slipped. Jaw tightened, hands flexed at sides.
He glanced at open door, at Jen, back to me. Lowered voice, stern soft mix cracked.
"You think this paper protects you?" he said. Cold delivery, no longer calm mentorship tone. "Reflection posture taught respect. You agreed when hired. Protocol requires it. You signed handbook."
I held ground, knees locked, floor memory sharp under feet. Jen stayed silent as witness, present not speaking, as agreed.
"I did not agree to kneel," I said. "Protocol memo says required, but I do not consent now. I will work standing."
Russo stepped closer, 3 feet, then stopped, aware of witness. Breathing audible. For first time detachment broke, showed irritation underneath.
"You want to keep this job, you follow my development method," he said. "My brother owns lot where you park, where your apartment lease routes through. Think carefully. Mercy not owed. Lesson keeps you employed."
Threat landed clear: job and housing linked. No shouting, just flat statement. Warm diffused light from window felt suddenly cold.
Jen cleared throat, small sound, reminder of witness. Russo exhaled, reined mask back slightly.
"Take afternoon to reconsider," he said. "Leave paper. We discuss tomorrow private. No witness needed then."
I placed copy on desk, kept original in purse beside memo photo. Did not kneel, did not sit.
"Tomorrow 9 a.m. works, door open," I replied.
May you like
He picked up paper, folded once, sliding into drawer. "We will see."
Jen and I left together, parking lot gravel crunching under shoes. Threat of loss now explicit, not implied. Limit set, mask dropped, consequence pending.
