The next morning.
The front pages of major media outlets were dominated by a piece of gossip.
In bold, Linton Cityâs biggest and most eligible bachelor, Young Master Lawrence, Baron Lawrence, was reported to have appeared at the Orchid Club last night, spending the evening with a female celebrity.
Low pressure seemed to be permeating the entire Presidentâs office. Everyone wished they could dig a hole in the ground to bury themselves, lest they be swept up in the torrent of anger.
âPresident Lawrence, weâve found what you asked us to investigate. The photos from last night were taken by a paparazzi. He confessed that he received a call from a female celebrity telling him to stake out the Orchid Club, claiming there would be a big scoop. So he went there to stake it out and snapped pictures of you. Knowing that news about you wouldnât make it to print media, he sold the photos to an internet portal site.â
âContact those websites immediately and have them delete the news. And by the way, send a message: If this happens again, I will have no choice but to take over!â
âYes, Iâll handle it right away.â
The secretary dared not face his wrath and kept her head low throughout.
Just as the pressure in the room was reaching its peak, the door of the Presidentâs office was pushed open.
Emily Goldsmith came in holding a thermos, surprised to see the secretary break out in a cold sweat. She closed the door behind her.
âWhatâs wrong? Youâre angry so early in the morning? Good thing I made chicken soup for you. Chicken soup is great for cooling down, do you want to drink some?â With an âIâm so luckyâ tone, she teased and raised her thermos, âI saw the news this morning, Adam Sinclair is really useless. I even helped him solve a big problem just to get close to your friend. But, at the crucial moment, he didnât think of me! He didnât leave a good opportunity to seduce you to me.â
Baron Lawrence paid her no attention and asked the secretary, âHave you reached the person I asked you to schedule a meeting with?â
âYes, I did.â The secretary responded immediately, âTheir representative is free at noon. They invite President Lawrence to meet them at the Racecourse in one hour.ân/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om
âThe Racecourse?â
âYes, thatâs what they said.â
Furthermore, the sound of the voice on the other end seemed eerily familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before. But he couldnât remember where exactly.
Maybe he was overthinking it.
He wouldnât have any connections with any of the people from Country Tâs oil company.
But that voice did sound so familiarâ¦
The secretary dared not mention that she also found the voice on the other end familiar and only pondered this in her mind.
âAdjust my schedule for this afternoon. I will attend the meeting at noon.â And then with a furrowed brow, he added, âForget it, clear my entire afternoon schedule!â
He wanted to see just how difficult it would be to deal with the other party, especially considering they had made no progress in the past three months!
âAlright, I will arrange that immediately.â
âPrepare the car.â
âOkay.â
The secretary left.
Baron Lawrence put on his watch arrogantly, grabbed the necessary files, and walked out of the office as if he didnât see the other person there.
Emily Goldsmith didnât try to hold him back and just watched him go, feeling frustrated while holding her thermos. She sighed, âDamn, wasted another three hoursâ¦â
This was the umpteenth time, it seemed like the saying âcapture a manâs heart by capturing his stomachâ didnât work either. She needed to try a new approach.
As for the chicken soupâ¦
Her thumb ached from the blister she got while making it. She couldnât bear to throw it away, but she just couldnât eat any more of it. Then, a lightbulb went off in her head, and she suddenly thought of someone else who could use it. Happily holding the chicken soup, she walked out of the room.