This voice in the private room was so loud that it made Mason Wilson's ears buzz and his mind ring.
Charles Seymour sat there, his gaze calm and cold from start to finish; if one looked closely, they could see the deep mockery in his eyes.
Charles Seymour picked up the water cup on the table and took a sip slowly; speaking so much at once was rare for him, and his throat was still not quite used to it.
Mason Wilson stood in the private room, the great company director staring blankly at Charles Seymour as if he were a fool.
No one knew how long it was before Charles Seymour put the cup back on the table, the bottom lightly tapping against the table with a crisp ding, finally bringing Mason Wilson back to his senses.
As Mason Wilson regained his composure, he realized a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. He quickly grabbed a napkin from the table and wiped his face dry, bent over, propped up the chair, and sat back down.
