Phoebe Walker gazed at Maxwell Peary’s face, reluctant to leave just like that.
"Mr. Peary, I’m not sure if the suit that arrived this afternoon fits. If it doesn’t, I can go and exchange it."
Phoebe Walker maintained a flawless smile, confident he wouldn’t be displeased by her suggestion.
As expected, Maxwell Peary looked up from a pile of documents, pondered for a moment, then stood up.
The moment Maxwell Peary finished speaking, he turned and walked towards the Waiting Room. Nia Mitchell, startled, immediately dashed away from the door.
Phoebe Walker stood there in disbelief. She was now alone in the expansive Office Room.
So, the woman Maxwell Peary had instructed her to buy clothes for was in that Waiting Room?
Suddenly, her entire chest was consumed by jealousy.
She only just realized that her fantasies about Maxwell Peary had never ceased; instead, they were growing ever more intense.
The woman on the other side of the door drove her mad with jealousy. She fought the urge to barge in and discover the truth, clenching her fists as she stood rooted to the spot.
Veins throbbed on the backs of her hands, her sharp fingernails digging deep into her palms.
Before long, Maxwell Peary opened the door and walked out.
"It fits well; no need for an exchange. You may leave now." ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦•𝘯𝘦𝘵
Maxwell Peary waved his hand, signaling her to leave. He then walked to his desk, picked up a food container, and headed towards the Waiting Room.
"Oh, and unless it’s something urgent, don’t disturb me."
Phoebe Walker nodded, turned, and left, gently closing the door behind her.
For all these years, Maxwell Peary hadn’t had a single woman by his side. She hadn’t felt any sense of crisis, always believing she could take things slowly, one step at a time.
But now, she truly felt the threat.
"Secretary Walker, what’s wrong? You look so pale."
The junior secretaries from the Secretary Department gathered around, feigning concern, though it was hard to tell how much of it was genuine and how much was false.
"Don’t you all have work to do?"
Phoebe Walker looked at these people supposedly concerned for her. They’re just here to laugh at me, aren’t they?
Would she reveal there was a woman in Mr. Peary’s Office Room?
Her gaze fell on Nia Mitchell’s empty desk, and she seethed with anger.
Damn it! When she arrived for work at noon, Special Assistant Alan Morgan himself had actually come to inform her that Nia Mitchell had taken sick leave.
She vaguely suspected that this Nia Mitchell’s backer was Special Assistant Morgan himself!
It seemed she could no longer openly move against her.
「Meanwhile, inside the Waiting Room」
Nia Mitchell was wolfing down her meal with gusto, leaving Maxwell Peary stunned.
"Is the food that good?"
He took a bite himself. Huh? It’s not that special, is it?
Nia Mitchell kept stuffing food into her mouth. With her cheeks puffed out, she looked up at Maxwell Peary and mumbled, "Mmm, so hungry!"
The words came out indistinctly. A few grains of rice flew out as she spoke, scattering across the table.
Maxwell Peary’s face darkened. If he wasn’t mistaken, some of those grains had just landed in the dish right in front of him.
Nia Mitchell struggled to swallow the mouthful of food. She picked up the glass of plain water before her and, GLUG, GLUG, took several large gulps, finally feeling some relief.
"I didn’t do it on purpose!" she immediately declared, a wide smile plastered on her face as she used her chopsticks to meticulously pick out every grain of rice she had sprayed.
"Uncle, please forget what you just saw. Or... you can... eat... um... this."
Nia Mitchell timidly pointed at the Sweet and Sour Spareribs, which were furthest from Maxwell Peary.
Ugh, he doesn’t dish. She wondered if Maxwell Peary would annihilate her for even suggesting it.