Mirabe didn''t know anyone named Presley, so she squinted slightly at the mention of the name. She remembered how Grant had been dodging her messages all day yesterday, and when he finally called today, he was hemming and hawing. He even used the excuse of needing some meds to lure her to the association, without exining a thing beforehand... It all seemed a bit too nned.


    Sensing Mirabe''s sharp gaze, Grant instinctively looked away, avoiding her eyes. He knocked on the office door instead.


    Only once he heard a voice from inside say, "Come in," did he turn the knob and push the door open.


    Mirabe stood there for a moment, thinking. "Is David not here?" she asked.


    Grant hesitated, finally managing a soft "Hmm," without going into details. "Please, head in first," he suggested.


    It wasn''t that he didn''t want to exin, but what good would it do? Even the president couldn''t handle Presley, and Mirabe was just a regr student. If things got messy with Presley, it wouldn''t end well for her. Better to go along with it than fight a losing battle.


    Catching a glimpse of Grant''s conflicted expression, Mirabe thought for a moment but didn''t press further. She stepped into the office.


    Grant closed the door behind her, silently hoping Presley wouldn''t stir up trouble. He leaned against the door, feeling a bit guilty. After a couple of minutes, he pulled out his phone and opened Devon''s Messenger. He sent a quick message:


    **Ms. Mirabe is at the association.**


    This was Presley''s second time meeting Mirabe. The first was during the pharmacy association''s assessment day, and she seemed to have some connections with the Shepherd family. She carried herself with a certain pride.


    Ignoring Mirabe''s cool demeanor, Presley shed a friendly smile, stood up from behind his desk, and gestured to a chair. "Please, take a seat. Let''s talk."


    Mirabe''s gaze brushed over Presley before she turned and sat down, skipping the small talk. "Why did you want to see me?" she asked.


    Presley didn''t seem bothered by her directness. He slowly picked up a French press, boiled some water, and started making coffee. "It''s nothing major. I just wanted to chat about some new rules and policies at the association."


    Mirabe leaned back, her dark coat making her seem even more aloof. Her fingers, resting on her knees, were delicate and fair. She flicked away an imaginary speck of dust and asked, "Oh? What kind of rules and policies?"


    Presley poured the coffee, then walked over to his desk, pulled out a document, and handed it to Mirabe.


    Mirabe nced at the document, her eyebrows arching slightly. After a brief pause, she took it.


    Presley sat back down, took a sip of his coffee, and spoke, "The contract Mr. Boyd signed with you before was a bit sketchy, pretty much just his personal deal."


    Mirabe skimmed through the document in half a minute, then looked up at Presley with a half-smile. "So, what''s the deal? You want me to sign a new one?"


    "Given your performance in thest assessment, you''re definitely qualified to be the official Vice


    President, Presley said slowly,


    pondering his words. "Besides


    wouldn''t you prefer to be more than just a Vice President in name?"