?Chapter 475:
As Marissa reached for her phone, the elevator doors slid open. Without a nce at Franco or Rita, she stepped out decisively and made her way to the stairwell, seeking a secluded spot to eavesdrop on rissa.
Watching her leave, Franco muttered under his breath, “How rude! How unprofessional! I’m your boss. I haven’t even left the elevator yet. How dare you walk out like that?”
Then, remembering something, he called out to Marissa’s departing figure, “Tiffany, where are you going? I’m supposed to show you around our workspace. Who’s going to see it if you’re not there?”
Marissa, not looking back, casually waved her hand. “Let Rita substitute me,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the stairwell.
Franco clicked his tongue, a mix of anger and resignation coloring his tone. In his mind, Tiffany was wasting her potential. At her age, Dr. Finley had already be a global legend in the chip industry, while Tiffany seemed lost.
He couldn’t understand Arabe’s favoritism towards Tiffany, a woman whocked initiative and couldn’t do anything right. Arabe had even coerced Connor into marrying her. Franco pitied his cousin deeply.
Determined, Franco nned to befriend Dr. Finley and introduce her to Connor, convinced that once Connor met such an exceptional woman, he would let Tiffany go. Joziah had once described Dr. Finley as not only charming but also a dedicated workaholic. In Franco’s eyes, she was a goddess, the epitome of perfection, almost celestial in her grace.
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Reflecting on this, Franco felt an increased eagerness to meet Dr. Finley. His heart was a tumultuous mix of anxiety and disappointment as he pondered when he might finally meet his idol face-to-face.
Collecting his thoughts, Franco turned to Rita, poised to take her on a tour of the office. However, before he could speak, Rita’s t tone cut through the air. “Mr. Britt, why do you resemble a stupid kid from middle school? This isn’t the image of a high-tech elite.”
Stunned into silence, Franco struggled for a response. Was he really acting like a stupid kid from middle school? He couldn’t ept that image of himself. Trying to regain hisposure, Franco cleared his throat awkwardly. “Rita, it’s not typical of me to seem so stupid. Tiffany has been getting under my skin,” he exined, standing taller in an attempt to exude calm and maturity.
“Let me show you where Tiffany sits,” he added, leading the way with a renewed sense of purpose, with Rita trailing behind him.
Meanwhile, Marissa slipped through the door to the stairwell, finding herself alone. She cranked up her phone’s volume to the maximum, keenly listening to the soundsing from rissa’s end.
The locating software indicated that rissa was in the president’s office at the top of the Peridot Consortium building. With the office presumably sealed shut, no ambient sounds leaked through—only rissa’s voice, which was fierce and explosive.
rissa maintained a facade of refinement whenever Bu was around, but behind closed doors, she became noticeably irritable, hernguage coarse and unrefined. Earlier, while Franco had been with her, Marissa hadn’t heard what rissa had said, missing the reason behind her fury. However, once Marissa tuned in, it became clear that rissa was furiously berating Tiffany.
From rissa’s tone, it was evident she despised Tiffany deeply. “Tiffany Nash, you bitch! I swear you’ll suffer horribly. You fucking bitch! How dare youy im to what’s mine! Ugh! I’m the one boss raised personally. I’m the rightful daughter here. Who do you think you are? Don’t even dream about…”
After her tirade, Marissa heard the sound of something breaking—clearly, rissa was releasing her anger by shattering ssware or porcin. Frowning, Marissa pondered the depth of rissa’s animosity towards Tiffany.
Just the day before, rissa had mistaken her for Tiffany and used her of stealing someone else’s father.
Marissa spected whether Tiffany, too, aspired to be considered the boss’s daughter, fueling rissa’s jealousy.
Why would Tiffany desire such a title?
Who exactly was rissa’s boss?
Amidst her confusion, Marissa suddenly heard an odd noise—something rhythmic and persistent. It sounded like a tapping or clicking from somewhere nearby.
Marissa strained to identify the source, trying to discern if it was rted to the ongoingmotion or something entirely different
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