After all, a man who is poor, ugly, and old wouldn’t have the confidence to appear at her birthday banquet, filled as it was with an upper-class ambiance. Truthfully, she had been very reluctant to invite this group from the Secretary Department in the first place. Having such people at her banquet would be far too humiliating. However, to thoroughly crush someone’s self-esteem, this invitation was essential. She wanted everyone to know: Mrs. Peary—that position was hers and hers alone. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⚫𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⚫𝕟𝕖𝕥 Regardless of what Phoebe Walker was saying, Nia Mitchell was already like an ant on a hot pan, completely flustered. What should I do? What should I do? She looked helplessly at Alan Morgan. However, Alan had already blanked out, bidding farewell to his future and counting down to the upcoming nightmare. Phoebe Walker smugly admired Nia Mitchell’s expression, her mood soaring. Even the stinging pain in her arm seemed to lessen. Alan kept his eyes glued to the entrance of the Secretary Department, where Maxwell Peary would first appear. The moment he spotted Maxwell Peary’s figure, he immediately went to greet him. Maxwell Peary didn’t even glance at Alan. He then noticed the unlit cigarette still in his hand and casually tossed it to the ground. His demeanor truly resembled that of a gang boss, spoiling for a fight and ready to wreck the place. Maxwell Peary threw open the Grand Gate and immediately saw Nia Mitchell standing by the pool. "What happened just now?" Maxwell Peary scowled. He knew Nia Mitchell was reluctant to publicize their relationship, so he hadn’t approached her. Phoebe Walker turned to look at Maxwell Peary standing there. Has CEO Peary already found out what happened earlier? Her face suddenly flushed, and she was ecstatic. Clearly, she had misunderstood, believing Maxwell Peary had come because he knew she had been scalded. "CEO Peary, it’s nothing serious, just a minor injury. I’m just worried it will leave a scar." Phoebe Walker looked at Maxwell Peary with an aggrieved expression. Her helpless gaze was fixed on her scalded arm. It was still very red, but thankfully, there were no other symptoms. Maxwell Peary wrinkled his brows in displeasure and turned to look at Phoebe Walker. He remembered her voice from the phone call just now. So, it was an employee his company had supported for all these years, calling him ugly, poor, and old? "What’s all this nonsense? I’m talking about the call just now!" Maxwell Peary radiated a dark aura, and the intense cold air caused the temperature in the Secretary Department to plummet by several degrees in an instant. Everyone felt their hearts clench, their blood seeming to run cold as their fingers grew icy and numb. Phoebe Walker’s mind went blank, somewhat unable to comprehend Maxwell Peary’s words. Maxwell Peary struggled to suppress his anger, shifting his gaze to Alan Morgan. "Alan, since you’re here, give me an explanation!" Alan abruptly lifted his head and coughed once. "There was a small dispute over here just now, and then..." "Enough with the nonsense." Maxwell Peary rudely interrupted Alan, his gaze cold. Today, even if he wanted to shield Phoebe Walker, he couldn’t. He wished he could downplay major incidents and smooth over minor ones, but alas, he simply didn’t have that ability. Nia Mitchell suddenly spoke up, her legs shaking. She had never seen Maxwell Peary so angry before. Her small face was ghastly pale. The oppressive atmosphere around her allowed her only enough courage to utter that single sentence; all other words caught in her throat. "Do you take me for a fool?" Maxwell Peary glared at Nia Mitchell in displeasure. With such a commotion here, and after he’d been insulted over the phone, she still dared to claim nothing was wrong?