Nia Mitchell giggled, playfully sticking out her little tongue.
She would rather be punished than do as he wished.
Maxwell Peary’s face darkened, and he helplessly gave her a light pat on her bottom.
"I really don’t know what to do with you."
Slowly, he set her down and, shaking his head, moved to sit on the nearby sofa.
Seeing his sudden change in expression, Nia Mitchell obediently trotted over. She slipped off her shoes, curled up cross-legged on the sofa, and sat beside Maxwell Peary. For origınal chapters go to 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵⚑𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⚑𝓷𝓮𝓽
"Uncle, you’re not mad anymore, right?"
She still remembered Maxwell Peary’s towering fury in the Secretary Department and the shattered phone still lying on the floor.
Maxwell Peary turned to look at Nia Mitchell, reaching out to pat her head.
Nia Mitchell paused for a moment, then shook her head.
"No, I spilled coffee on Phoebe Walker and burned her."
It was just like the last time she encountered Mrs. Hampton at Royal View Villa; she was the one who had been wronged, yet others ended up facing severe repercussions because of her.
She really didn’t dare to say that she was the one who had been wronged.
"If you get bullied in the future, make sure you tell me, okay?"
At first, he was somewhat angry, but it was because someone had called him old.
Ever since marrying this little Rabina, he’d found himself increasingly sensitive about his age, unable to bear hearing the word ’old.’
His subsequent anger stemmed from Rabina being bullied at his Company.
If he hadn’t happened to call the Secretary Department today, if someone other than her had answered that call, he might still be unaware that Rabina had been wronged.
"Okay, if anyone tries to bully me in the future, I’ll just invoke your name, Uncle. Let’s see who would dare to disrespect you then!"
She teased him with a smile, reaching out to gently pull the corners of his mouth upwards.
"Uncle, why don’t you smile too? Why get angry over people who don’t matter?"
She shifted, kneeling on the sofa and wiggling her little toes.
"Nia, how about you don’t work in the Secretary Department anymore, okay?"
Nia Mitchell was taken aback, not expecting him to say this so suddenly.
She found it hard to accept for a moment. Could it be because she had spilled coffee on Phoebe Walker?
So, was it really as Phoebe Walker had said? Was she not going to make it at MC?
Seeing the change in Nia Mitchell’s expression, Maxwell Peary knew she had gotten the wrong idea.
"It’s not what you’re thinking."
He affectionately stroked her head.
"I want you to be a Special Assistant, like Alan Morgan, taking orders only from me. I’ll give you your own separate Office Room. What do you think?"
He had thought about it repeatedly and felt it was feasible. He was just a little worried Nia Mitchell wouldn’t agree. After all, she was so young and lively; he feared she would feel lonely and bored all by herself in an Office Room.
Nia Mitchell lowered her head, thinking for a long while. She hadn’t expected her uncle to propose such a solution.
There were too many people in the Secretary Department, and their intentions were too mixed and chaotic. Even if Phoebe Walker had been transferred, a second or third Phoebe Walker would soon appear.
Her own Office Room, answering only to him—this was indeed the most perfect solution.
However, that would mean she’d be disconnected from the rest of the Company. What would be the point of that?
"Uncle, I want to continue staying in the Secretary Department. Firstly, Phoebe Walker has already been transferred to another department. Secondly, I can’t just choose to hide whenever I encounter problems and never face them."
She looked up at Maxwell Peary, her youthful face filled with earnestness.