?Chapter 481:


    The person darted past Franco and surged into the administrative office, swift as aet. The suddenness of the event left Franco momentarily bewildered. Upon recognizing the intruder, he stopped dead, incredulity etched across his face.


    Just then, Rita appeared, mop in hand and freshly rinsed. Franco extended the takeout box towards her. “Here’s your lunch, Rita.”


    Without a word, Rita epted the box and offered a brief thanks before continuing into the office, mop still in hand. Franco lingered at the doorway, unwilling to step inside. He peered through the ss wall, observing the unfolding scene.


    Inside, the visitor was none other than Araceli, his sister who had been doted on by almost everyone. Her presence puzzled him. She was often glued to his side, yet today, she had bypassed him to meet with Marissa at Daniels Group.


    His curiosity was piqued as he watched Araceli greet Marissa with a beaming smile. “Good day, Tiffany!”


    Marissa, who had been engrossed in her phone while nibbling on her lunch, looked up at the sound of Araceli’s voice. Recognition shed in her eyes, and she returned a courteous smile. “Why are you here, Araceli?”


    “I came to see you, Tiffany,” Araceli chirped as she took a seat across from Marissa. Leaning forward, she peered into Marissa’s lunch box and patted her stomach yfully. “I haven’t eaten yet, Tiffany. I’m so hungry,” she cooed.


    At that moment, Rita ced Franco’s takeout box on the desk. Marissa gestured toward it. “Then, this one’s yours.”


    Outside, Franco was at a loss for words. Araceli shot a questioning look at Rita and asked incredulously, “Really, I can take it?”


    “Absolutely,” Marissa responded.


    “And what about her?” Araceli gestured towards Rita. “What does she eat?”


    “She doesn’t need to eat anything,” Marissa replied nonchntly.


    As she spoke, her eyes flickered toward Franco, who was visible through the ss wall. With a shrug of amusement, she continued eating and fiddled with her phone.


    Without dwelling on it, Araceli promptly flipped open the takeout box. She made small talk with Marissa as they ate, while Rita continued mopping the floor.


    Franco, observing silently, felt a pang of frustration. The coffee he’d bought for Rita ended up with Marissa, and the food intended for Rita was now being devoured by Araceli. He pondered what, if anything, Rita managed to eat or drink.


    With a sense of resignation, Franco turned and left once more. Shortly thereafter, he reappeared with another box of takeout. However, Rita was nowhere in sight this time. Marissa and Araceli had finished their lunch and continued their lively conversation, finding plenty ofmon ground.


    Franco scanned the room, but Rita was missing. He walked into the office and asked, “Rita, where is she?”


    “Oh, Rita?” Marissa replied casually, without looking up at him. “I sent her to pick up my parcels.”


    Franco couldn’t contain his anger. “Tiffany Nash, even though Rita works for you, she deserves to be treated like a person. She’s so young, yet you make her work like a machine. Why can’t she have a moment to rest?”


    Marissa responded nonchntly, “She doesn’t need a break.”


    Franco’s frustration grew. “Everyone needs a break now and then. Why can’t Rita have one?”


    Before Marissa could respond, Araceli chimed in, puzzled, “Franco, why are you so upset? Rita is just doing her job as Tiffany’s employee. What’s wrong with her fetching parcels?”


    Franco shot back immediately, “You don’t understand. You weren’t here this morning. Since Rita stepped into the Research and Development Department, she hasn’t stopped working.


    She’s been on her feet all day, hasn’t had a bite to eat or even a sip of water. She’s young, she’s industrious, and Tiffany treats her like she’s disposable.”


    Araceli blinked, turning to look at Marissa, incredulous. “Tiffany, isn’t that a bit cruel?”


    Marissa’s expression shifted slightly, but she offered no exnation.


    Just then, Rita returned, burdened with parcels. Arge box in her left hand and another bnced on her right shoulderpressed her small frame, painting a picture of a person exploited beyond measure


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