Evening in the city center.
In the large mansion of the Redgrave Family, Ariel Chandler urged in the kitchen for the third ti, "How long does it take to make a pot of black chicken soup?"
"Madam, Mr. Ingram insists the black chicken soup must be simred for two hours, or he won’t drink it." The servant was troubled, "The timing is out of my control; you ntioned it too late."
"Alright, alright, just let know when it’s done." Ariel turned away in frustration, avoiding taking it out on her.
She had just rembered to make chicken soup for Lydia and thought of taking the opportunity to check out the company.
While waiting, she paced the living room, her mind filled with visions of Monica Usher.
Glancing at her watch intermittently, she saw it was getting past dinner ti.
Until a full moon hung on the tree and the stars dotted the sky, with the city encircled by lights, she finally slled the rich aroma of chicken soup.
He should be working late today, still not a shadow of him in sight.
"Madam, the chicken soup is ready."
Ariel took the thermal bowl from the maid’s hand and quickly headed to the yard.
The driver opened the car door for her as she carefully held the thermal bowl and hurriedly got in, "To the company, quickly!"
"Yes, Madam." The driver closed the door for her and swiftly returned to the driver’s seat.
About ten minutes later, the car ca to a stop in front of R-Alan’s main building.
Ariel opened the car door, swiftly got out with the thermal bowl, and walked briskly towards the company, racing against ti.
Upstairs.
Lydia Ingram was in a good mood, holding two freshly brewed cups of coffee as she walked into the deputy’s office.
Hearing footsteps, Monica Usher, who was busy working, looked up to see the middle-aged man smiling broadly.
"Here, have a cup of coffee, I made it myself."
"Thank you." Monica didn’t refuse as she was feeling a bit sleepy.
Lydia placed one of the cups near her right hand and then propped on the desk with one hand, her gaze falling on Monica’s open computer screen, "What’s this?"
"I’ll report to you once I finish it." She picked up her cup, gently stirring with a silver spoon.
Lydia’s gaze lingered on Monica’s increasingly slender face, "I heard from Joe that you were eating bread this afternoon. Are you getting hungry easily? Should I get you sothing more?"
"No, no, no need." She felt awkward, "I don’t actually eat much; occasionally I get a bit hungry, but it’s nothing serious."
However, Lydia was very attentive to her matters.
The elevator doors opened outside.
Wearing a cheongsam and high heels, Ariel Chandler, ticulously dressed, was carrying the thermal bowl and heading towards the president’s office.
As she passed by the deputy office, she inadvertently turned her gaze, just right to see a scene—
Her husband was propped on the desk with one hand, slightly bending his body, while holding a coffee cup in the other.
The woman sitting in the office chair looked up, and they were conversing about sothing.
Even though it wasn’t clear what they were saying, it appeared very intimate.
Ariel didn’t stop walking, just slowed her pace, observing the scene thoroughly.
When she walked into the president’s office with a restless heart, Joe imdiately stood up, "Hello, Madam."
"Hello." The woman gently placed the bowl on Lydia’s desk and smiled, "Where’s Lydia? I brought chicken soup for her."
Joe felt a bit worried, didn’t she see when she passed the deputy office?
But not seeing was perhaps better.
"Probably in the eting room, please wait a mont, I’ll go get her now." With that, Joe quickly left.
He hurried into the deputy office and leaned near Lydia’s ear, whispering, "President, Madam is here."
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