The door swung open, revealing Freda, the head cleaner, and a young lady from the clothing design department.
They were too engrossed in their lively conversation to notice what was happening inside the office.
With lightning reflexes, Charles dropped to the floor, slipping under Augustine's desk-the only hiding spot that came to mind in his panic.
Augustine swiftly rose from his chair, forcing a deep frown across his face.
He cleared his throat, the low rumble slicing through the room. "Umm… excuse me," he drawled, his voice sharp and cold. "Isn't it basic courtesy to knock before barging into my office?" His words cut through the air, heavy with irritation.
The three women froze mid-step, their eyes widening in pure shock as they quickly shifted their gaze from each other to Augustine.
A cold shiver ran down their spines, the weight of Augustine's icy glare pressing down on them, sharp and unforgiving—like he could burn them alive with just a look.
