Alan Morgan nodded. These young girls were always warm towards him, and he had gotten used to it over ti.
"Um, Nia Mitchell..." He hesitated, looking at Nia Mitchell, who was sitting to one side with reddened eyes. He felt utterly helpless.
The boss made his sister-in-law unhappy, so why should he, of all people, have to bear the brunt of the fallout and investigate?
Nia Mitchell lifted her head, just in ti to see Alan Morgan’s distressed expression. Huh, what was wrong with him?
When Alan Morgan didn’t speak for a while, Nia Mitchell asked, "Is there sothing you need, Special Assistant Morgan?"
Alan Morgan coughed awkwardly. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to ask her, in front of the entire Secretary Departnt, if she was angry with the boss? Was he supposed to ask her directly if her burned tongue still hurt? No, no, no, that would be terribly unwise. Both she and the boss would kill him.
"Um... nothing." Right, nothing. It wasn’t like he actually had any business here.
Nia Mitchell’s lips twitched. Then why was he here?
Phoebe Walker’s smile gradually stiffened. Was Special Assistant Morgan here just to ss with this newcor?
Phoebe Walker stood up, walked over to Alan Morgan with a beaming smile, and said, "Special Assistant Morgan, let make you a cup of coffee."
Alan Morgan turned to look at the eagerly attentive Phoebe Walker and didn’t refuse. "Sure."
Upon getting the answer she wanted, Phoebe Walker happily walked over to the counter to make coffee.
"Still no sugar, Special Assistant Morgan?" Phoebe Walker asked. Holding a sugar cube, she looked at Alan Morgan, and he nodded.
While the coffee was brewing, Phoebe Walker smiled and ca over to Alan Morgan’s side.
"Oh, right," Phoebe Walker said, then quickly walked over to her desk and took an invitation out of her bag. "You’ll honor with your presence, won’t you, Special Assistant Morgan?"
Alan Morgan raised his eyebrows, took the invitation, opened it, and glanced at it. It was for a twenty-sixth birthday.
"Of course! I will definitely co to support Secretary Walker’s birthday."
Alan Morgan nodded, accepted, put the invitation away, and then left the Secretary Departnt.
Nia Mitchell looked up at the ceiling speechlessly. Alan Morgan and Maxwell Peary are both nuts, so inexplicable.
After Phoebe Walker served coffee to Alan Morgan, she took a stack of invitations and began distributing them to everyone in the Office Room, including, of course, Diana Hill and Nia Mitchell.
"Nia Mitchell, you ntioned yesterday that you’re married. I wouldn’t mind if you bring your husband along." She placed the invitation before Nia Mitchell with an air of superiority.
Nia Mitchell bit her lip. There’s no way I’m going with my husband. Not only that, I won’t even go myself!
"Secretary Walker’s birthday party will surely be filled with Upper-class people. A person like attending would only tarnish your image and make you feel embarrassed, wouldn’t it?"
Nia Mitchell wasn’t the type to hold grudges; she often forgot many occurrences almost as soon as they happened. Especially unpleasant things, like argunts with friends—the next day, she’d act as if nothing had occurred.
But her fuming argunts with Phoebe Walker—who always seed to look for trouble and insist on a quarrel whenever she appeared—were not sothing Nia could easily forget. Even the most forgetful person wouldn’t forget such things easily, right?
"How could that be?" Phoebe Walker responded, wearing a broad, magnanimous smile. "You’re all my colleagues; I would definitely welco you to my birthday party. How could you think that, Nia Mitchell?"
She feigned an incredulous look, which then morphed into a sudden expression of realization. "Oh, I see. Nia Mitchell, it must be because you’re too insecure, lacking confidence, and that’s why you feel you’d be embarrassed."
Phoebe Walker then tapped the invitation on the table. "You need to be a bit more confident, okay? Make sure to co on Saturday."
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