"Hmph, Maxim Sinclair's expression looks like he's about to devour someone."
Noah retracted his gaze, shaking his head in amazement.
Exhausted, Summer Lowell gave the address to the driver, adjusted her coat, and mustered the strength to thank Noah, "President Norris, thank you for your coat. I'll return it to you after I get it cleaned."
"You're welcome, it's just a coat, no need to fuss," Noah grabbed a bottle of water from the car's storage, casually opened it, and handed it to Summer, "By the way, can you tell me what happened just now?"
After all, the atmosphere between Maxim Sinclair and Summer just now... truly didn't seem like a simple meeting between old rivals.
Moreover, with his understanding of Maxim Sinclair, given what Summer did back then and her current presence in Stellarion... it's hard not to stir up suspicions.
Summer swallowed a sip of cold water, suppressed her agitation and lingering fear, and said, "It's nothing much. At the banquet just now, I seemed to have had a drink that was spiked, and then... I ran into Maxim Sinclair."
"Is that so? Do you need to go to the hospital? How are you feeling now?" Noah asked with concern.
"No need, thank you, President Norris." Summer shook her head gently and continued, "Maxim Sinclair happened to have his personal doctor with him, who already gave me an injection. I misunderstood him for drugging me, so we quarreled a bit. The clothes were probably torn during that time."
Summer didn't reveal the complete truth. Her position was still unstable, and Noah was one of the few in the company willing to believe and support her.
She naturally didn't dare to tell the truth.
Fortunately, Noah didn't suspect anything: "Is that so? Do you need to call the police?"
"No need." Summer shook her head, "Many at the banquet today are future collaborators. Calling the police might offend them."
Noah thought the same, patting Summer's shoulder in comfort, "It's just a bit of grievance for you."
"It's alright, just a false alarm," Summer gave a weak smile and added, "Maybe today's incident was indeed orchestrated by Maxim Sinclair, after all, he did say he'd make my life difficult."
She said this to hint to Noah that she had no other relation to Maxim Sinclair.
Noah understood and assumed the posture of a big boss, "No matter how formidable Maxim Sinclair is, he can't engage in illegal activities! Be careful in the future, and if you sense anything off, call me immediately. I'll have your back, so you don't need to be afraid."
"Thank you, President Norris, I'm glad to have you." Summer thanked sincerely.
Noah waved off the thanks, urging the driver to drive quickly.
The next day.
During lunchtime, when most of the company was taking a break, Summer was still working.
The workload of the design director was overwhelming, so she could only squeeze her limited rest time to investigate the "Mingyue draft leak" mastermind.
If she didn't clear this blame soon, the company's designers might write a joint letter to the headquarters to remove her.
Yesterday, she contacted an expert in tracing information through a friend to investigate the entire trajectory of the Mingyue draft leak online.
The expert promised a response within three days.
Summer, unable to sit idly, dug through the company's employee logs, sifting through all the designers at the company.
Among them, Linda's file had been reviewed by her countless times.
Within Stellart Stellarion Division's over twenty designers, Summer always suspected Linda was the mastermind behind the "Mingyue draft leak".
Unfortunately, suspicion alone was useless; she needed evidence.
"Sigh~"
Summer let out a long sigh, pushed away the pile of documents that made her eyes sore, grabbed an empty cup next to her, and got up to go to the tea room.
She needed a cup of American coffee to refresh herself.
After pouring the coffee, Summer held the mug, avoided the viewing corridor, and walked to the empty staircase to catch some fresh air.
As she reached the staircase, she faintly heard voices from below.
She instinctively assumed it was other employees also chattering in the staircase, intending not to gather with others; just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard her own name.
Summer's eyebrow raised slightly, she turned back, walked quietly deeper into the stairwell.
Now she could hear clearly.
The speaker was another designer from the design department, Sheryl, the designer who first befriended her when she arrived in Stellarion.
Summer had a good impression of her, thinking Sheryl must have casually mentioned her in a chat, and there was no need to be suspicious.
It was still the Mingyue incident that caused her paranoia.
Summer chuckled self-mockingly and prepared to leave with her mug.
But in the next second, Sheryl's clear words echoed through the empty stairwell into her ears: "She's still hanging on, didn't realize she was so thick-skinned. At this point, she still dares to cling to the director's position without resigning."
The tone was full of mockery.
Summer clenched the cup, her knuckles turning white as bone, slowly turning her head back, eyes full of disbelief.
For the first time in her life, Summer doubted her ears. Was it because of lack of rest?
But Sheryl's next words cruelly shattered her doubt.
"I don't think she can hold on much longer. Mingyue has been discharged and is uniting the designers to write a joint letter, planning to escalate the matter to the headquarters, saying they must pull her down from the design director's position."
Summer gazed blankly at the window, ears filled with Sheryl's gloating tone: "I'll just watch the show beside. Summer, why should she parachute in as the director? That position should obviously be mine!"
Heh heh...
Half an hour later, Director Assistant Ronan Fletcher carefully placed the file on the table, cautiously asked the obviously distracted Summer, "Director Lowell, shall we continue with the meeting later?"
Summer pinched the corners of her eyes, voice hoarse, shaking her head, "Postpone the meeting for an hour, I need to head upstairs later to report to President Norris."
"Alright, Director Lowell."
The assistant turned and left, kindly closing the door behind him.
Summer leaned forward, her hands supporting her forehead.
She felt exhausted. The only seemingly friendly designer, Sheryl, turned out to be no different behind her back.
She could even be the mastermind behind the Mingyue draft leak.
"Sheryl, I thought you were a good person, didn't expect you..." Summer murmured.
Evening.
Half dead, Summer pushed open her home door, kicked off her shoes, and walked barefoot to the sofa, collapsing onto it, unwilling to get up for a long time.
"A mere director position is enough to wear you out like this?"
A voice, all too familiar and unexpected in this place, startled Summer. She quickly sat up, glaring at the source of the voice, "Why are you here?"