Page 20 of The Defiant Wife

The words slip out naturally. Without thought. Without hesitation. For some reason they settle warmly inside my chest.

Mychildren.

I don't correct him because he's right.

We reach my office. I settle behind my desk while he takes the chair opposite me. Several files sit waiting. Budgets. Expenses. Monthly reports. The least exciting part of running an NGO.

For nearly twenty minutes silence fills the room. The comfortable kind. Paper shuffles. Calculators click. Pens move.

Then Veeraj speaks. "You're overspending here."

I look up. "What?"

He slides a document toward me. "This supplier charges fifteen percent more than necessary."

I frown leaning over the paper.

He continues. "Distribution costs are inconsistent."

Another page appears. "This transportation arrangement is inefficient."

Another page. "This inventory system wastes resources."

My eye twitches.

Another page. "This volunteer scheduling creates unnecessary overlap."

I stare at him.

He stares back.

Completely serious. Like he's presenting evidence in court.

I take a deep breath. Then another. Then another.

Because prison white is not my color."This," I say carefully, "is notyourcorporation."

"Good."

I blink. "What?"

"Corporations are easier." He's too calm. Entirely unaware he's seconds away from being strangled.

"You think running an NGO is harder than running a multinational company?"

"Yes."

I narrow my eyes.

His expression doesn't change. Not even slightly.

"I dislike you."

"I've noticed."

The audacity.The absolute audacity.

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. Nothing comes out. Because unfortunately—the infuriating man is making valid points. I hate when that happens.