“You don’t want me here,” Miss Smail blurts out. “You don’t want me to know what’s going on and how the Ladies’ funds are wasted. But you’re too late. I’ve written my reports.”
I sit dumbstruck at her betrayal. I know she’s writing letters, but reports? She should have told me. I can’t stop her. But to be so underhanded about it. So dishonest. I’m rigid with anger. “I think, under the circumstances, you should find accommodation elsewhere.” I stand.
“You can’t dismiss me. I’m assigned to the mission,” Miss Smail says.
“I’m not dismissing you. I’m ordering you off the premises. You may work or not as you please, but you will no longer live under my roof.”
Miss Smail stands with her hands stiffly at her sides. “You’ll regret this. I’m not the only one aware of your mismanagement.”
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