You're Quite Pitiful, Let Me Give You a Hand

In the early morning, Jerome's office was still illuminated.

Jerome's gaze remained fixed on the computer screen, his eyes painfully weary. Pinching his nose, he picked up a cup, frowned, and dialed the internal line, "Celia, coffee."

Due to a sudden accident, the entire MFC Building was brightly lit.

All relevant personnel were working overtime to investigate safety hazards, design solutions, handle public relations attacks, and prepare for the upcoming inspections from higher authorities.

In the past few days, Jerome had been staying late at the office, waiting for Vivian.

The consecutive days of overtime, coupled with today's exposure to the scorching sun, left him physically exhausted, and his spirits were deteriorating.

There were two knocks at the door.

Jerome didn't divert his gaze, pointing to the desktop to signal Celia to place the coffee there.

However, after waiting for a while, there was no sound.

Feeling a bit strange, Jerome impatiently raised his head.