<b>When </b>Soren <b>said </b><b>that</b><b>, </b><b>Gregory </b>suddenly realized <b>why </b>Mr. <b>Fawkes </b><b>was </b>in such a foul <b>mood</b><b>. </b>
<b>It </b>seemed Mr. Fawkes and Miss Whitmore had fallen out again.
But honestly, he’d gotten used to it by now.
Ever since the whole business with the marriage, Soren had always been resentful–he’d never given Evangeline an easy time.
Yet no matter how unreasonable Soren got, Evangeline never lost her temper. She just quietly swallowed her feelings and carried on.
So, even after the stormiest arguments, they would always slip back into their usual routine by the next day.
Their marriage had settled into a strange, delicate bnce.
Despite the doubts and gossip from outsiders, Gregory couldn’t help but feel that their rtionship, for all its friction, might actually go the distance.
Besides, he knew Mr. Fawkes well enough–if Soren truly hadn’t wanted this marriage, it never would havested this long.
“How’s the search for Poppy’s new apartmenting along?”
Lost in thought, Gregory was startled when Soren suddenly spoke.
He quickly replied, “I’ve found a ce that matches Miss Yates’s requirements. The purchase isplete and the deed’s in her name now.”
Soren nodded, satisfied.
That reminded Gregory of something else. “By the way, Mr. Fawkes, I’ve tracked down the address for Mrs. Fawkes’s new rental. Would you like to take a look?”
He started to hand over the freshly printed document.
Soren didn’t even nce up. “No. Take it away.”
Gregory hesitated, then silently withdrew the file.
He was used to his boss’s unpredictable moods when it came to Evangeline. Without surprise, he said, “If there’s nothing else, Mr. Fawkes, I’ll be heading out.
Soren gave a brief nod, and Gregory let himself out.
<b>22:01 </b>
<b>As </b><b>he </b><b>closed </b><b>the </b><b>office </b><b>door </b><b>behind </b><b>him</b><b>, </b>he nearly <b>bumped </b>into a young. <b>hovering </b><b>awkwardly </b><b>in </b><b>the </b><b>hallway</b><b>, </b><b>shifting </b>her weight <b>from </b><b>foot </b>to foot as if sh <b>couldn’t </b><b>decide </b>whether <b>to </b>enter <b>or </b><b>flee</b><b>. </b>
<b>“</b><b>What’s </b>going <b>on</b>?” Gregory asked, a little puzzled.
The secretarytched onto him like a drowning woman grabbing a <b>life </b><b>preserver </b>hurrying over and thrusting a folder into his hands. Her tone was desperate, <b>as </b><b>if </b>she were facing the end of the world.
“Gregory, please, can you do me a favor and take this in to Mr. Fawkes<b>?</b><b>” </b>
He frowned, sensing her panic. “What is it? Did one of our projects tank?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then what?”
“It’s a bomb, Gregory. It’s not going to go off right now, but sooner orter, it will.<b>” </b>She sighed heavily.
Now even more curious, Gregory opened the folder. Inside, he found a funding proposal from the Whitmore family.
Unlike the previous brief applications, this time the Whitmores had included an extra page listing all thepanies that had recently invested in their projects. Sure enough, Winston–the investor Gregory had dug up earlier–was on the list. The secretary let out another sigh. “No matter how you carve a lump of chalk, it’s never going to turn into jade, right? I’can already tell–if we approve another round of funding for the Whitmores, we’re just going to throw more good money after
bad.”
“But if I hand this in, Mr. Fawkes is guaranteed to lose his temper. If I don’t, I’ll be in even more trouble.”
After all, Soren’s attitude toward Evangeline was so unpredictable that the rest of them could only guess where they stood.
He imed not to care, but he’d bailed Whitmore Industries out more times than anyone could count and never once asked for repayment. But if he truly cared, why had he once cut off Evangeline’s allowance and never restored it since?
Messy, half–personal, half–business matters like this were way above her pay grade. She was just a secretary, and this was far beyond anything she’d signed up for. “Gregory, Mr. Fawkes is in a terrible mood today. I’m really afraid he’ll take it out on
<b>22.01 </b>
rrie
<b>Soren </b><b>never </b><b>used </b><b>foul </b><bnguage</b><b>, </b><b>but </b>his <b>words </b><b>were </b><b>always </b><b>razor </b><b>sharp </b>cutting <b>straight </b><b>to </b>the bone. There wasn’t a soul in the <bpany </b><b>who </b><b>didn’t </b><b>fear </b>his têmor <b>Just </b>thinking about it made the secretary shudder. “You’ve worked <b>for </b><b>Mr. </b>Fawkes <b>so </b>long–you know how to handle him. Please, just take the file <b>in </b><b>for </b><b>me</b><b>.</b><b>“</b>