The assistant hummed in acknowledgment and then stepped out of the conference hall once more.


    Presley turned around, preparing to sit down at the conference table, when his pocket vibrated with the sound of his phone.


    He paused for a moment, took out his phone, and saw an unknown number calling. Without much thought, he pressed the decline button.


    But just as he did, a message popped up on the screen with just two words.


    "Prescription."


    Presley''s pupils constricted at these words, and the first person he thought of was Mirabe.


    And looking at the number of the iing message, it was the same number he had just declined.


    Holding his phone, Presley stood still for a moment, pondering. With about twenty minutes left until the meeting officially started, he tapped the screen twice and hit redial.


    Soon, the call connected, and a clear, cold female voice came through:


    "I''m in your office."


    Hearing this familiar voice, Presley knew it was that girl.


    He opened his mouth, about to speak, when the next second, all he heard was the beep of the line being disconnected.


    The other party had hung up.


    Presley was ustomed to being ttered and rarely experienced such rudeness. However, thinking of the prescription in Mirabe''s hands, he quickly suppressed his displeasure.


    She must be seeking him out not just to get the medicine to save James but perhaps also to disrupt today''s presidential reelection.


    Presley could see through her intentions. A slight smile yed on his lips as he looked up at the people in front of the conference table and then strode out of the conference hall.


    He needed the prescription, and the presidency could only be his.


    *


    The assistant, seeing Presley suddenly emerge, asked in surprise, "Where are you going?"


    Presley raised his hand, "I''m heading back to my office. Keep an eye on things here and call me if anything happens. I''ll be back down in a bit."


    The assistant nodded in response, quickly acknowledging. Soon, Presley was taking the elevator up to the third floor.


    The second-tost office in the corridor was his. The door was closed Just as Presley was about to swipe his card to unlock it, he paused, remembering what Mirabe had said on the phone.


    In his office?


    Presley''s gaze narrowed slightly, but he proceeded to swipe his card on the door.


    The lock clicked open, and he pushed the door and entered.


    Upon entering, he saw a slim, tall figure standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, back to the door, wrapped in a ck coat exuding a cool aura.


    Presley, observing the figure''s back, spoke in a steady voice, "How did you get in?"


    After a half-minute pause, the cold figure finally turned around nonchntly, and Mirabe''s delicate features came into Presley''s view.


    "I can get in whenever I want," Mirabe said, a seemingly harmless smile ying on her lips.


    She walked a few steps forward and


    casually sat down on the couch.


    Presley, watching her unreserved demeanor, frowned slightly but decided not to


    waste words with Mirabe, "Where''s the prescription?"


    Mirabe crossed her legs,


    embodying a certain indolence. She tilted her head, looking at Presley, and instead of answering, she asked I''m quite curious, howe none of the people behind you have given you a few prescriptions?"


    Hearing this, Presley''s brow furrowed deeper, noticing that Mirabe''s attitude


    was clearly different from what he had expected.


    It was as if... she wasn''t here to beg for medicine, nor to interfere with today''s presidential election.