Every time Sara walked into a senior management meeting, she swore it felt like stepping into a den of ancient foxes.
One time Patricia had asked her what that even meant.
Sara, in her calm but slightly unhinged way, replied, “It’s like a mountain full of sly old foxes, all scheming together.”
At dinner, the conversation bounced all over the place. Eventually, someone brought up Martin Group’s financial problems. One person admitted they’d looked into the numbers out of boredom and figured the company couldn’t survive much more chaos.
Patricia just sat quietly off to the side, listening in.
The meal dragged on for two hours. Oliver took every congratulatory toast with a smile, never refusing a drink. He was clearly in a great mood, genuinely happy.
When everyone moved to the lounge for tea, Patricia reached out to steady him. “Did you drink a little too much?” she asked gently.
Oliver grinned at her. “It’s not every day you get to celebrate.”
Before Patricia could reply, he leaned in, still a bit tipsy, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her—hard.
The whole room froze for a second. Then someone started clapping, and laughter and applause filled the room.
Patricia’s face turned bright red. She buried herself in his arms, trying to hide from everyone’s eyes.
—
At the lounge entrance, someone grabbed Hector’s arm, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.
Hector shot him a look. “What are you staring at? I don’t have anything you want.”
“Are you even human?” the guy shot back.
“I’m not. And if you are, please keep your distance,” Hector said, sighing. “And maybe stop talking for once.”
The other man looked at him like he was crazy. “What did I even say? I just want you to get my leave form signed while Mr. Padilla’s in a good mood. My wife and kids have been in Sydney for two months. If I don’t go soon, I might not have a family to go home to.”



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