My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms hard enough to draw blood. I didn't feel it.
In the end, I pulled on my mask and gave a numb nod.
When I reached for the long-handled pliers, Vivian raised a hand to stop me.
"Mrs. Sanchez, the company just replaced all the toilets. Each one is a fifteen-thousand-dollar smart toilet. Tools like that could damage them."
I frowned. "Then what do you want me to do?"
"I'm sure you'll figure something out. Just... no tools."
The implication couldn't have been more obvious.
I knew that if I didn't do what she wanted, she'd never let it go.
My paycheck hadn't come through yet. I didn't want trouble.
I dropped to my knees mechanically. My stomach lurched—whether from the smell or the humiliation, I couldn't tell. Acid climbed up my throat.
Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, absorbed by the mask before anyone could see. Under Vivian's amused gaze, I got to work. As I pulled the obstruction from the toilet, I heard the click of a camera shutter behind me.
Several times.
"Mrs. Sanchez, I just posted your hard work to the company group chat! Your fearless dedication to the job is truly an inspiration to us all!" Vivian beamed at me.