Everything was ready. That evening, Amelia Clarke felt a bit nervous and couldn't sleep.
At 1 a.m., she called Owen Moreland. It was already 8 a.m. in Capital City, and Owen had just sat down in the conference room.
Answering Amelia's call, he furrowed his brows imperceptibly.
Signaling for the meeting to pause, he stood up, pushed the chair behind him away with his foot, and walked out of the conference room with his phone in hand.
In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the man in a tailored suit, one hand in his pocket, held the phone to his ear and spoke in a steady voice: "Can't sleep?"
The female employees passing behind him overheard their superior's magnetic, manly voice, and their ears turned red.
Amelia softly replied, "Um."
"Feeling nervous?"
"…" Amelia stared at the ceiling. "Does this make me seem useless?"