The dead silence in the Gold Group conference room was broken by a cold laugh.
"President Gold, I heard that the Nance Group pulled out because you had their eldest daughter hospitalized over some woman?"
The CFO pushed up his glasses, his gaze behind the lenses as sharp as poisoned needles.
"We've been with you for eight years—eight years of hard work. And it's all worth less than a single tear from your First Love?"
"Exactly!"
The marketing director slammed his hand on the table.
"Who was Gwen Nance? The top PR mind in Victoria City! Three years ago, she cleaned up the Browns' mess by drinking until her stomach hemorrhaged. Last year, when our stock price crashed, she stayed up three days and three nights straight to stabilize things!"
He pointed at Frank Gold, his finger shaking.
