Under the curious, suggestive gazes of nearby employees, Samuel Grant guided her toward the elevator as if escorting a prize.
She had prepared herself for humiliation today.
But when his hand slid lower, pressing against her in a way that crossed the final line, she finally spoke.
"President Grant," she said coldly, her voice steady despite the tension coiling in her chest. "I'm here to submit a proposal, not to endure disrespect. Tea is acceptable. Anything else is unnecessary. Please maintain some self-respect."
Samuel Grant's smile twisted, turning sharp and ugly.
"Self-respect?" he scoffed. "You're already sleeping around, aren't you? Do you think I don't know why Young Master Hughes dumped you?" His gaze was full of contempt. "Since you're no longer his fiancée, what exactly are you pretending for in front of me?"
Her fingers curled tightly at her side.
