After all, a man who is poor, ugly, and old wouldn't have the confidence to appear at her birthday banquet, filled as it was with an upper-class ambiance. Truthfully, she had been very reluctant to invite this group from the Secretary Department in the first place. Having such people at her banquet would be far too humiliating. However, to thoroughly crush someone's self-esteem, this invitation was essential. She wanted everyone to know: Mrs. Peary—that position was hers and hers alone.
Regardless of what Phoebe Walker was saying, Nia Mitchell was already like an ant on a hot pan, completely flustered.
What should I do? What should I do?
She looked helplessly at Alan Morgan.
However, Alan had already blanked out, bidding farewell to his future and counting down to the upcoming nightmare.
Phoebe Walker smugly admired Nia Mitchell's expression, her mood soaring. Even the stinging pain in her arm seemed to lessen.
