Laughter, jeers, mocking whispers filled the air. Most of the employees watched with gleeful anticipation, while only a few—those who had once been close to me—cast uneasy glances my way.
It was pathetic. Just moments ago, these people called me "Sir Desmond." Now, not one of them had the guts to stand up for me.
So this was the so-called professionalism of employees in a top-listed company?
In my opinion, the Whitaker Family’s rapid rise over the past three years had been far too easy.
Gideon, growing impatient at my silence, clicked his tongue.
"Hey, Des! I’m talking to you. Are you pretending not to hear me?"
I smiled, looking at him with complete composure.
"What if I refuse?"
A flicker of irritation crossed his face before he scoffed, his eyes brimming with arrogance.
"You're the first person who's ever dared to talk back to me. I don’t know who gave you the courage."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to a condescending drawl.
"Boy, even your wife doesn’t want you anymore. What right do you have to act high and mighty in front of me?"
I chuckled.
"Who told you that I needed to rely on Everett?"
As soon as the words left my mouth, Gideon’s lackeys immediately jumped in.