[17th Floor Ladies' Restroom—Five minutes later]
Elle Carter was hiding.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Inside the Veritas PR & Media Solutions executive restroom, crammed between a Dyson hand dryer and a motivational poster that said "You got this!" in Comic Sans. Which—frankly—felt like personal mockery at this point.
Her hair was slightly unhinged. Her lipstick? Smudged from biting authority. Her breathing? Aggressive.
"I bit my CEO," she whispered at the mirror, pointing at her own reflection like it owed her an apology.
"You bit him," the mirror Elle echoed back. "On the hand. Like a feral squirrel. Or a chaotic Disney princess on her villain arc."
She slid down the wall dramatically, landing on the cold tiles with the elegance of a squashed croissant.
"God, please delete me."
Then the restroom door creaked open.
Click. Click. Click.
Heels.
Ava.
Carrying what looked like a protein bar, a resignation letter template, and a bottle of essential oils labeled "Sanity."
