"Have a seat."
Rosalind Lowell pursed her lips and glanced at the sofa. She saw a fluffy white Samoyed lying on the soft cushions. Other than its big, bright eyes darting around, it was as still and quiet as a stuffed animal.
'Its fur is so glossy. Its owner must take wonderful care of it.'
Rosalind Lowell glanced at Alaric Davenport before sitting down beside the dog. It was too adorable; she couldn't help but reach out and stroke its fur.
Alaric Davenport, perhaps sensing where she had sat, finally lifted his gaze. His eyes briefly landed on the woman petting Hope with a sweet smile.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. A man carrying a stack of files entered, approaching Alaric Davenport's desk timidly. "Sir, this incident has caused the stock to plummet. The public outcry is..."
"Bury it. Create a new headline."
"Mr. Davenport, if this is about what happened last night, I..."
The male secretary noticed Rosalind Lowell on the sofa. He knew she had just entered the president's office—gossip was already making its way through the company. Unsure of her relationship with his boss, he felt it wasn't his place to interrupt her.
"Speak," he said, a hint of displeasure on his face. It was his sister's scandal that had affected the company's stock; now he'd see what this woman had to say.
Before she could finish, Alaric Davenport cut her off.
"What's done is done. You can suppress the story, but you can't suppress the public's dissatisfaction as it snowballs. Onlookers just want an outcome they feel is satisfactory. Speaking as an observer, I would only feel disappointed in the event organizers. If the charity was genuine, why suppress the story? Shouldn't you be guiding the narrative in a more positive direction? Or was this charity event just for show?"
"Nonsense! Mr. Davenport is truly doing charity work!" the male secretary explained agitatedly. "Hiring celebrities was just to leverage their influence to draw attention to the cause. The charity organizations will be coordinating with our company for the follow-up."
'The president has always disliked high-profile events. Upper management only approved this because they thought it could promote charity and bring some buzz to the platform. Who knew it would backfire because of some minor influencer?'
Rosalind Lowell blinked, averted her gaze, and went back to stroking the little furball's head.
"If you're here to speak for your sister, you can leave," Alaric Davenport said, his gaze still cold as he looked at her.
Rosalind Lowell stood up and chuckled softly. "You're overthinking it, Mr. Davenport. I'm just here to keep up appearances. I have no intention of helping her, not that I think I could. With the trouble she's caused, she's lucky if you don't go after her. And I promise, I won't use my connection to you to bother you."
Alaric Davenport raised an eyebrow. 'She's the adopted daughter, but she isn't on good terms with her sister?'
After Rosalind Lowell left, Alaric Davenport put down his files. "Have Ethan Lockwood look into their family for me."
"Yes, Mr. Davenport..."
Alaric Davenport frowned slightly and looked up at his secretary. He saw the man's hand trembling as he pointed to the empty cushions on the sofa. "Hope... seems to have gotten out."
...
Rosalind Lowell was about to cross the street when she saw a white furball dart past her and rush into the road. Rosalind took a closer look. 'Isn't that the little furball from Alaric Davenport's office?'
"Little Furball!"
"HONK..."
The sharp blare of a horn cut through the noisy street.
Rosalind Lowell dashed forward, shielding the little furball, which had frozen, bewildered, in the middle of the road.
"THUD!"
Rosalind Lowell was knocked to the ground. The intense pain shooting up her leg made her face twist in agony.