Victoria's wine glass slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor, deep red wine splattering all over her gown.
"Impossible… This defies all business logic. How could a receptionist be Mr. K…?" she mumbled, her face as pale as paper.
I pulled the expired plastic employee badge from my chest and tossed it casually onto the dining table. The cheap badge landed on the plate of delicate foie gras.
"Ms. Hale's version of common sense is indeed somewhat different from everyone else's. The so-called business loop you are so proud of would not even earn a passing grade as a project proposal in my eyes."
My voice remained flat, void of any emotion.
Seated in his wheelchair, Harold gasped violently. He lifted a trembling finger and pointed at me. "If you held such status, why did you stay
