In his spacious, dimly lit office, Vincent who was reading a report regarding the recent development of the company, which was showing sign of decline, suddenly received a call on his private phone. The number was not visible even, so he barely reacted at first.
But the moment he heard the voice on the other end, his expression subtly shifted.
After hearing Christian's demand, Vincent slowly pulled the phone from his ear and stared at the screen, as if double-checking the caller ID… confirming something. Then he returned the device to his ear and said calmly,
"Consider it done. But, what—"
A soft beep cut him off. The call had ended without warning.
Vincent stared at the phone for a moment, then placed it down with a sigh. A deep frown creased his brow.
When has someone dared to treat him like this?
He… Vincent Quinn?
Running a hand through his neatly combed hair, he reached for the internal line and pressed a button.
"Layla," he called.
