At the morning meeting of Gong Group, everyone could feel that the man sitting at the head of the table was in a foul mood; a low pressure seemed to shroud him, making the air in the conference room refuse to circulate.
The Asia-Pacific region manager spoke in a trembling voice, terrified of saying even a single wrong word.
Gong Ting held a fountain pen in his hand, unconsciously twirling it, his gaze occasionally pausing on his phone. The news had broken, and it had been delivered to a certain someone with exactly the effect he wanted.
Having lost that hope called The Queen, she was probably like an ant on a hot pan at this very moment.
His thin lips curled slightly, but the moment he thought of Su Yu coming to beg him for another man, his handsome face darkened again. Gong Ting, what meaning does a victory like this have?
He suddenly tightened his grip on the pen, so forcefully it seemed he might snap it in half.
