Nelson was the first to leave the office. Jaquan got pulled back by Mr. Sherman, who warned him, “I’ll talk to you about this later. When you talk to him, be careful with your words!”
Jaquan didn’t respond, just yanked his sleeve back with a look of disdain.
In the private elevator, the tension between the two men was thick. Jaquan’s face was grim as he tried to regain control of the situation.
“Nelson, you really went hard on your wife, giving her a debt of a billion dollars. That’s practically a death sentence.”
Nelson smirked coldly. “In business, even facing your own wife, you can’t afford to be soft-hearted. Besides, didn’t you cause all this?”
The sarcasm was biting.
The media had gone crazy.
Reporters swarmed the CBD area, desperate to capture a high-level executive looking dejected.
Callie stayed locked in her office with the curtains drawn, isolating herself from the world.
She couldn’t afford to lose her composure; she needed to stay calm and figure out what went wrong. Even if she couldn’t solve it, deep reflection would help.
As Nelson had said, she had been careless in many details. If this were a graded test, she wouldn’t even pass.
Her assistant sent a message: as of now, Shamar was two billion dollars in debt.
Callie eventually faced Nelson.
Three hours before the stock market opened the next day, before dawn, she finally opened her office door. Meeting Shamar’s worried eyes, she nodded slightly to indicate she was fine, then walked aside and dialed a familiar number.
In the brightly lit office floor where no one slept, everyone stared at the suffocating data on their screens, contemplating their next move in a few hours.
Seeing Callie’s figure brought a faint sense of confidence. Her thin back looked frail, but her presence instilled some hope.
The phone was answered after just two rings, as if the person had been waiting.
Callie stared at her pale reflection in the glass and slowly spoke, “I need to see you.”
A curt reply came from the other end: “Half an hour later, Oconnor Group.”
Shamar’s office was not far from Oconnor Group. Unlike Shamar’s brightly lit offices, Oconnor Group’s building was dark with no one working overtime. Callie stood at the bottom and looked up until her neck hurt, finally spotting a few lights on the top floor.
It was too high; he stood too high.
At this hour, even the secretary wasn’t there.
Nelson sat in the executive office, watching surveillance footage on an LED screen. He squinted at Callie entering the private elevator and ascending slowly. He couldn’t see her expression but could guess it.
She must be biting her lip very reluctantly.
Sure enough.
The automatic door opened slowly. Nelson raised his eyes, a trace of surprise flashing through them.
Callie’s eyes were almost bloodshot, and she looked exhausted.
Without greeting him, she sat directly across from him, her gaze indifferent and calm. “State your terms.”
He didn’t move, scrutinizing her closely before mocking, “Who gave you the confidence to take this attitude when asking for help?”
Callie glared at him fiercely, trying to maintain her composure but couldn’t help biting her lip. “Nelson!”
He suddenly barked, “Smile!”
She froze, taking a moment to understand what he meant before slowly releasing her bitten lip.
What followed was a desperate silence.
On his desk was a bottle of whiskey, with half a glass left in a transparent cup. The ashtray was empty.
He hadn’t smoked; only the smell of alcohol filled the air.
The scent of alcohol permeated the room, intoxicating anyone who breathed it in.