A sharp exmation pierced the air, the second fall proving even more jarring than the first, likely


    leaving behind a painful lump on her skull.


    Summoning an unwavering strength, Millie stood, determined to rise above the difort. Casting her


    gaze about the restroom, she identified no one in sight, yet the telltale evidence of deliberate


    malfeasance was unmistakable-the floor awash with hand sanitizer.


    Son of bitch!


    Uttering an internal curse, she inhaled deeply, regaining herposure as she cleansed herself at the


    sink. With a swift motion, she tamed her tousled hair, surveying her reflection in the mirror.


    Lips pursed in defiance, Millie’s thoughts gathered. A mere return to work had been met with such an


    unweing reception, suggesting an unsettling eagerness for her return on someone’s part.


    A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y


    Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    Determined to prioritize her own well-being, Millie took a detour to the infirmary. Ointment for her


    bruised skin was procured, followed by a visit to the logistics department, culminating in the acquisition


    of a fresh chair.


    As they traversed back to the design domain, Millie unceremoniously deposited the new chair and slid


    it into ce.


    Emerie, observing from her peripheral vision, noted Millie’s unwavering persistence. She couldn’t help


    but admire Millie’s resilience-rather than retreating to recover from the ordeal, Millie pressed on.


    Undeterred by the noise generated by the chair’s movement, Millie continued to exert her resolve.


    Approaching Emerie’s workspace, Millie halted.


    Slightly perturbed by Millie’s scrutiny, Emerie turned her head impatiently.


    “What’s the matter?”


    With aposed demeanor, Millie leisurely ced a bottle of hand sanitizer onto her desk.


    “Emerie, consider this hand sanitizer a gift from me to you.”


    Millie’s voice, devoid of anger, resonated with a distinct note of consideration.


    Emerie’s guilt was palpable as she blinked at the sight of the hand sanitizer bottle. Though her


    conscience weighed heavily, she remained resolute in her decision to withhold any admission of her


    involvement in both the chair incident and the hand sanitizer spill.


    Emerie’s retort carried a certain vehemence, her wordsced with a facetious tone.


    “Who needs this? Do you think I can’t manage it on my own?”


    Nancy’s calcted announcement of Marcus’ absence on a business trip together with other senior


    executives assured Emerie that her actions would go unnoticed. Additionally, Millie’s status as an intern


    designer, coupled with the allegations of giarism, further rendered her a target.


    Seizing the opportunity to redirect the conversation, Millie focused on Emerie’s appearance.


    “Emerie, have you noticed the surprising number of gray hairs on your head?”


    What! Emerie’s brow furrowed in disbelief as her hand instinctively reached for her hair, her disbelief


    tangible.


    Maintaining her innocence, Millie nodded affirmatively.


    “There really are quite a few. I’m not exaggerating.”