Harold's POV
I watched Atlas glance between me and Phoebe, who stood nearby with that unreadable expression I'd learned to recognize. My anger was still burning hot, and apparently Atlas could feel it too—he actually shivered.
"Mr. Harold Bailey, may I call Mr. Hans Bailey to report this?" he asked.
Smart move. This mess was way above his paygrade, and I knew Hans would want to handle it personally.
I gave him a curt nod. "Make the call. And tell Uncle Hans's team to run an internal check too."
Atlas practically sprinted away to make the call, not bothering to hide anything as he delivered his full report.
Even from where I stood, I could hear Hans's fury exploding through the phone. "What... Atlas, are you dumber than Hardy? How could you let something this stupid happen under your watch?"
