Fiona lowered her voice.
"She's in her own office."
Tristan Lowell pushed the door open and took a look.
Cora Lowell was sprawled in the boss's chair, her feet propped on the desk, watching a drama, with three bags of chips and two bottles of drinks beside her.
Her left foot gently tapped to a rhythm, while she hummed an unknown tune.
Holding a tablet, a popular urban romance drama was playing on the screen.
The chip bag crinkled loudly as it was squeezed, each bite savored enjoyably.
The cap of the drink bottle was open, and ice cubes gently swayed in the glass bottle.
As soon as the person following him entered, their face changed immediately.
The few middle-level managers who followed him froze instantly as they stepped over the threshold.
It's over, this situation is likely to explode.
Cora Lowell's state was anything but that of someone responsible for a major project that was about to determine the future strategic direction of the Group.
