Wife 85


    “Got it!” Noelle hung up quickly and fixed her gaze on the unexpected visitor, squinting slightly, “Mr.


    Harris, did you need me?”


    Meanwhile, Charles, who had just ended the call, still had a yful smile lingering in his eyes. He


    swiped at his phone screen, but soon, the smile vanished. “Enter!”


    Ronald walked in with Jenson, “Mr. Hoffman, Mr. Lowry has arrived.”


    “Right!” Charles acknowledged with a nod and gave Ronald a look. Ronald understood. “I’ve got


    stuff to handle, so I’m heading out.”


    Once Ronald was gone, Charles tossed his phone aside and rxed on the couch, coolly eyeing


    Jenson. Jenson was drenched in sweat. He had been warned on his way over, since Ronald had


    escorted out Joey from the secretarial team. As to where Joey was brought, that was anybody’s


    guess.


    Jenson was a bundle of nerves the entire way, but Charles would not throw him a bone. The trek


    from the finance department to the big boss’s office was not exactly a marathon, but it sure felt like


    an eternity. He had enough time to run through every possible scenario in his head, even trying to


    figure out how to turn the tables in his favor.


    Charles, just stared him down with his poker face, leaving Jenson’s mental scriptpletely


    useless.


    Figuring Charles out was like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded. Even the old–timers at the


    company who were not exactly fans of Charles would not dare to butt heads with him. Crossing


    Charles was like painting a target on your back in Brookville.


    Sure, some of the gossip was probably blown out of proportion, but a lot of it was urate.


    Jenson kept his gaze glued to the floor, sneaking peeks at Charles but never daring to meet his


    eyes.


    Charles, cool as a cucumber, watched him. When Jenson mmed up for too long, Charles


    squinted and threw a curveball, “Mr. Lowry, are you keeping track of time?”


    “Wha–what?” Jenson’s head shot up, baffled, “Mr. Hoffman, what do you mean?”


    “Time’s up,” Charles announced, drumming his long fingers on the desk before letting them fall with


    a thud. It was not a grand gesture, but it was enough to make Jenson jump like a scaredy–cat, his


    face going ghost–white.


    “You had a full ten minutes to make your case, but you just stood there silently without a word in


    your defense, owning up to your mistake, or spilling the beans.” Charles rose to his feet, hands


    casually tucked into his pockets. “So, what happened? How much did he pay you?”


    “What?” Jenson’s hand flew to his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to dab at the sweat on his


    forehead.”


    -I didn’t get any pay!”


    “Really?” Charles arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the desk with an easy grace that belied


    the intense pressure he was exerting. His legs were crossed, and though he looked the picture of


    ease, his presence was sharp enough to slice through steel, leaving Jenson shaking in his boots.


    “Yes, yes, Mr. Hoffman, what can I do for you? I’m clueless about what you’re implying, Mr.


    Hoffman!”


    “Oh, acting clueless, are we?” A cold smile flickered across Charles’s face, which had been all


    sunshine and lightness moments before. His brows knitted together, and his gaze cut right through


    Jenson.


    1/2


    +15 BONUS


    “How much did Robert line your pockets with?”


    Belonging to N?velDrama.Org.


    “Mr. Hoffman.” Jenson’s head snapped up, shock written all over his face. He had not expected


    Charles


    to drop that name so openly, and he certainly hadn’t anticipated that Charles was onto Robert’s


    involvement. “I’m not sure I follow you. Mr. Harris never…”


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