With a deep breath, I composed myself, feeling a surge of righteous anger replacing the initial humiliation. I realized I had an opportunity to turn this mortifying experience into a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
I leaned back in my chair, a small, defiant smile playing on my lips. “You know,” I began, my voice steady, “it’s fascinating how people reveal their true selves when they think they have the upper hand. I almost feel sorry for you.”
He looked at me, puzzled at my composure. His sneer faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly recovered. “Sorry for me? You should be sorry for yourself,” he retorted, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
