Ryan was mid-meeting when Mark burst in after a frantic phone call. Leaning close, he hissed, "Madam's hurt—she's back at the house."
A glacial silence fell as Ryan's steel-cutting gaze swept the room. The team held their breath, exchanging nervous glances.
"PR Department—finalize endorsements by Friday. We're done here." His dismissal came like a guillotine drop.
Bewildered staff scattered as the scheduled overtime dissolved. When the door clicked shut, Ryan's palm hit the table with a bang. "Mark," he seethed, "since when do you interrupt for petty incidents?"
Mark practically folded in half. "Sir, you'd ordered that Madam's affairs—"
"She got injured at a South Club activity?" Ryan's jaw clenched. "Get the car. Now."
Valerie's ankle had swollen grotesquely by the time she reached
