Chapter 297

Latisha felt a deep sense of reluctance. Although she had grown up under Wallace's roof, she could barely recall ever having a conversation with him. In his eyes, she was practically invisible. Her impression of him was that of a stern, demanding man. She was terrified she would mess up and he would fire her on the spot.

"Latisha?" Selah called her name again.

Snapping back to the present, Latisha forced a smile, picked up a pen, and signed her name before handing the document back.

Selah glanced at it. "Okay, you can pack your things now and go report upstairs." Latisha nodded and went back to her desk to pack. She had only been working for a few days, so she didn't have much. Everything barely filled a small box.

Carrying her belongings, Latisha took the elevator to the top floor. She had thought the lower floors were quiet, but the top floor was practically silent. There wasn't a soul in sight, and the entire space felt vast and empty. Light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a cool glow on the polished floors. The soft taps of her flat-soled shoes were the only sound.

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the central office. Before she could raise her hand to knock, the door swung open.

“Ma'am?" Ziven said, emerging with a stack of files.

Latisha was just as surprised to see him. She instinctively tried to peek inside the office, but the door blocked her view.

Ziven noticed the box in her arms and quickly put two and two together. "Ma'am, have you been transferred up here?"

Latisha nodded, unsure of where she was supposed to go.

Ziven didn't seem to know either. “You should go in and ask Mr. Lambert,” he said with a smile. “He can tell you where to set up."

Latisha's heart skipped a beat. Although Wallace's last name was also Lambert, she had a strange feeling that the “Mr. Lambert" Ziven was referring to was not Wallace.

"It's probably for the best," Ziven added. “Working up here should be easier. There's not much to do."

In truth, any job would be easy for her since she didn't know how to do anything. But up here, with no one to supervise her, she would have more freedom.

Latisha clutched the box tighter and nodded in understanding. Ziven didn't linger; he was genuinely busy, having been run off his feet for the past two days.

After he left, Latisha finally raised her hand to knock, only to find the door wasn't fully closed. It swung open at her touch.

Her eyes scanned the office, finally landing on a row of bookshelves on the left wall: She froze. The man who claimed to be jobless and in debt was standing there, dressed in a sharp silver vest over a black dress shirt. His tall, imposing figure was turned away from her as he flipped through a document.

Latisha couldn't begin to describe the feeling that washed over her. He hadn't exactly lied—he was no longer the CEO-but the plaque on the door clearly read: CHAIRMAN'S OFFICE.

Just as her mind was reeling, Clifford turned his head. His deep eyes met hers, and her heart clenched. She walked into the room with her box and stopped in front of

him.

Clifford glanced at her face, then went back to reading the file in his hands. Latisha stood silently beside him, waiting. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only ten minutes, he finished, closed the file and looked at her again.

His gaze fell to the box in her arms. "Throw that trash out."

Latisha blinked, looking down at the box. It contained her training materials, a few pens, and a water cup. How was any of that trash?