The office was surprisingly silent while Cecilia prepared to leave for the day. The buzzing of the lights in the mall continued to illuminate the whole building. The typical office conversation had long disappeared, leaving just the steady ticking of the wall clock at her back. Her fingertips followed the sharp edges of the letter she held, which was her promotion letter. Is it possible to become a branch sales manager in just three months? It was illogical. She frowned as she flipped the envelope in her hand, her sharp wolf instincts noticing the slightest aroma lingering on the paper. Cecilia noticed that something was off about her promotion. She has heard from four old staff who have been working in the store for the past three years, that they've not been promoted and have not received a salary increment. So what's different with her? Or was her advancement deeper than it appeared? Taking a slow breath out, she placed the letter into her handbag and made an effort to smile s
John Trevor's hands shook on the desk, his knuckles becoming pale. His anger bubbled up, almost out of control As he struggled with his son's difficult situation. Maureen, his wife, placed a soft hand on his arm, subtly encouraging him to relax. While John's chest continued to rise and fall with contained rage, He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay focused. Raising his eyes, John Trevor met the gaze of Marcus, his son. In his eyes was disappointment, Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had to do it. "I'm sorry," John spoke, his tone softer now, but still holding the power of command. "I wasn't able to assist you in the manner you desired." However, I have a strategy, and in this plan, it's the one that I think is the most effective way to approach this." Marcus stayed quiet, his face was calm, showing no emotion, his eyes remained on his father, waiting for him to continue with what he was saying."I've talked with the lawyer," John continued, his tone resolute and c
Maureen held the door handle as the door creaked open while guiding Marcus into the elegant sitting room. The light from the gold chandelier dangled from the lofty ceiling, and its light simmered over the gleaming tiled floors. John Trevor was still seated in his tall-backed chair, one leg resting over the other, as he systematically browsed through the pages of an extensive document when Marcus barged out of the room. As soon as John noticed Marcus and Maureen had entered inside the room , he didn't instantly raise his eyes. Rather, he paced himself, completing the final lines that he was reading in the document before ultimately looking up at his son. "Take a seat," Maureen Trevor directed Marcus, her tone laced with a hint of subtle urgency. She quickly approached her husband's side and took a seat next to him. Marcus, on the other hand, continued to stand. His body was tense, muscles wound with hardly contained rage. His hands tightened at his sides while his eyes fixed on his
Vivian stayed quiet, disregarding Lisa's inquiry. Her gaze remained fixed on Lancelot, and her face remained unreadable for Lisa to dictate. Lancelot, aware of the tension, flashed a knowing smile. "I must be the least likely person you anticipated seeing in this office," he commented, his tone exuding a clear sense of assurance. Vivian shifted in her chair, her fingers lightly touching the side of her handbag as she replied, "According to my records, the CEO of Socialite Women's Magazine is-" Just as she was about to finish, Lancelot effortlessly finished her statement. "Cynthia Thompson." A rich laugh accompanied his remarks. "It appears you rarely review the most recent updates with your clients." Vivian's face clouded over at his comment. Lancelot, quick to observe, instantly softened his voice. "I'm just pulling your leg.," He answered with a shy smile.Vivian held her composure, repositioning her handbag gently on her lap. If Cynthia Thompson isn't the head of the company,
Dr. Marcus exited Dr. Leonard's office, his thoughts heavy with the implications of their conversation. In the hallway Marcus's eyes detected the ongoing movements of patients moving down the exit door, the shuffling of documents from the nurses' station, and the soft murmurs of discussions behind shut doors. He darted down the hallway without a second thought, the echoing tap of his footsteps on the smooth floor. A sharp brightness from the lights highlighted his white coat while advancing toward his office. Opening the door, he walked in, his eyes quickly focusing on the four large files organized on his desk. Every file held essential patient records and research notes with documents he could not bear to abandon. He collected the documents, placing them under his arm. His other hand grabbed his white coat, effortlessly sliding it off the chair in a smooth movement. The fragrance of the subtle hint of coffee from his morning brew lingered on the material. He then took hold of his
Andrew gripped his phone tightly, his fingers digging into the sides as he heard Vivian's voice. His wolf shifted under his skin, agitated, detecting the significance of this discussion. "You must come to Healing Field Hospital now," he stated, his tone intense, pressing. "I'm in Dr. Leonard's office." Vivian faced her mirror, clutching a notecard packed with notes for her gratitude speech. The contract with **Socialite Women Magazine** was a significant achievement, and she had practiced all morning. Yet the strain in Andrew's voice sliced through her concentration like a knife. Her intuition ignited on why he didn't tell Andrew everything before it escalated to this point.As soon as she hung up, she called her assistant, Lisa. "Cancel my upcoming appointments and take care of the thank-you pitch," she commanded, her tone decisive and sharp. Lisa paused. "Mrs Blackwood, the magazine executives are awaiting a direct reply from you." "As you can see now, I have a more pressing i