Fiona held the silver tray, standing a short distance behind Arthur.
The firelight gleamed on her face, her expression serene, as if she were just a dutiful hostess.
Her gaze lingered for a moment among the police officers at the table, then fell back on Arthur.
Everyone in the room sensed that subtle tension and grievance, but no one dared to speak a word.
The officers either buried their heads in documents like ostriches or smiled awkwardly while fanning themselves with their tall helmets, exclaiming how strong the fire in the room was burning.
Seeing that they did not intend to stand up for her, Fiona gently placed the tray down, curtsied gracefully, and excused herself, "The tea and snacks for the officers are ready, and I will not disturb the ensuing meeting."
Though her words were courteous, her steps were quicker than usual as she left, leaving the atmosphere in the room suffocating.
Tom wanted to say something, but before he could speak, Tony stepped on his shoe.
