TERESA'S P.O.V.
The situation had spiraled quicker than I anticipated. One moment, I was pushing the twins' stroller towards the meeting's large room, minding my business, and the next, this woman—Monica, apparently—was glaring at me like I'd personally offended her entire lineage.
Her perfectly coiffed hair and icy demeanor screamed "corporate tyrant," but I wasn't in the mood to be intimidated. Not today. Not ever again.
"Security!" she barked, her voice sharp enough to make me wince.
The twins stirred in their stroller, one of them letting out a soft whimper. I felt a surge of protective anger.
I stood there, clutching the stroller handle as the security guards approached, their heavy boots echoing against the marble floor. Monica's smug expression made my blood boil. She pointed at me with the flair of someone who thought they owned the world.