The moment just hung there between us, my order sinking into the air like thick fog. I watched Mrs. Sanchez flinch at my words, as if the title "Ms. Amadeus" had cut a gaping hole in the guise she had so long played at being. It was a jarring reminder of our new reality-one where I stood tall and she stooped over as a subordinate.“Ms. Amadeus,” she whispered again. It was a delight to hear the shift, that recognition of my power."Louder," I said, squinting a little. "I want to hear you say it plain."“Ms. Amadeus”, she repeated, her words a little stronger this time, though her voice still quivered with anxiety.I moved closer to her. She had to look at me. "You forget, you are not here to take up any mothering role. You are here to work and do it my way. I want you to obey me as a professional, not like some parent trying to get their child's love.”She nodded, swallowed hard, and I could see the fight in her. "I get it," she said, her voice stronger now.“Good,” I said, with a rus
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