Chapter 502 Layla Doesn't Dare to Face Rachel
Rachel gripped her phone a bit tighter and replied calmly, "Yeah. What's wrong? Are you trying to mess with the Davis Group's personnel changes, Mr. Wright?"
Charles chuckled softly. "Seems like Nancy and Layla have been getting on your nerves lately. And now you're taking it out on me."
Rachel paused, hearing the amusement in his voice, then said, "I'm not. Firing Shirley was a well-thought-out decision. She just isn't the right fit to work with me."
After she finished, Rachel realized she didn't need to explain herself so much to Charles. She took a deep breath, feeling a dull ache in her chest.
Charles spoke gently, "I know, you're always so composed, never acting on impulse. I brought her back to help you, but if you say she's not suitable, sending her back to Yaradia is fine. I called not to question you, but because I was worried you might not trust me."
Rachel bit her lip lightly and replied calmly, "Mr. Wright, if I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be working with you. I might not be able to go to Yaradia anytime soon, so I'll need you to help keep those entrepreneurs steady for me. Once the Kasfee issue is sorted, I'll head to Yaradia to thank you."
After she finished, she heard Charles's low laughter through the phone. "Then, Ms. Davis, you better hurry up. The entrepreneurs here are getting impatient."
"Okay," she responded in a deep voice.
Charles said, "Then I'll wait for you in Yaradia."
Rachel responded, "Okay."
She was about to hang up when Charles's deep voice came through the phone again, "Rachel, I hope you'll still be single when you come to Yaradia. I'll be waiting for you."
Rachel's heart skipped a beat, and she immediately ended the call.
Meanwhile, at the Wright Manor, Charles sat on the sofa, staring intently at Rachel's phone number on the screen.
His assistant stood beside him, respectfully asking, "Mr. Wright, do you need me to arrange a flight to Kasfee for you?"
Charles didn't answer but got up and walked into his study.
In his study, the shelves were filled with magazines featuring Rachel's interviews, each cover showcasing her different styles throughout the years.
He stood in front of the shelf for a long time, reaching out to take the magazine from Rachel's first financial interview, clutching it in his hand.
On the cover, Rachel's photo still looked youthful. She was staring straight at the camera, but her expression was not yet as cold and aloof.
Charles stared at the magazine for a while, then put it back in its place and spoke in a deep voice, "Go ahead and arrange it."
His assistant immediately understood Charles's intention and made the arrangements.
On the other side, after hanging up Charles's call, Rachel threw her phone onto the bed and walked to the balcony. She was only wearing a thin nightgown, letting the cold wind blow as if that was the only way to keep herself awake.
That night, Rachel had insomnia. She lay in bed, unable to sleep, so she got up and went to study to work.
At five in the morning, the servants had already started to get up to prepare breakfast and clean.
Casey, lugging her cleaning tools upstairs, spotted Rachel in the study, still in her nightgown, and was taken aback. "Ms. Rachel Davis, didn't you get any sleep last night?" she asked.
Rachel glanced at Casey, then at the clock on her desk, realizing it was already five a.m. She showed a hint of fatigue, rubbed her temples, closed her laptop, and said softly, "I'm going to rest for a bit. Don't touch the documents on my desk."
Casey nodded seriously. "Don't worry, Ms. Rachel Davis, I won't touch anything. I know how important those documents are."
Rachel nodded, got up from her seat, and left the study.
As she passed Casey, she said softly, "Thanks for your hard work."
Casey's face lit up with a bit of joy. "Ms. Rachel Davis, you're too kind. It's part of my job."
Casey watched Rachel head back to her bedroom, her eyes full of excitement.
Rachel was probably really tired, so she had no defenses at that moment.
Casey walked into the study, first looking at the documents on Rachel's desk, her mouth slightly agape. She had been worried about not having a chance to finish the task given to her last night, but now she had such a good opportunity.
The study was empty except for Casey. Susan would usually be helping in the kitchen at this time. So Casey quickly took out her phone and started snapping pictures. She photographed every page of the documents and sent them to the other party.
When Amelia got up, Rachel's bedroom door was closed. She took Anna downstairs for breakfast but noticed Rachel's seat was empty. "Has Rachel already gone out?" she asked.
Vincent replied softly, "Casey said Rachel was working in the study all night and only went back to her room to rest when she got up to clean this morning. Rachel must be very tired, so I didn't call her down for breakfast."
Amelia looked upstairs and sighed quietly. This period was indeed critical; it was a matter of who would lose their composure first.
After breakfast, Amelia was about to leave when she saw Layla getting out of a car at the door.
Layla had a smile on her face, holding a gift box. As soon as she saw Amelia, she greeted, "Amelia, off to work?"
Amelia had the driver stop the car, her eyes coldly falling on Layla, and she asked in a cold voice, "What are you doing here?"
Seeing Amelia's unfriendly expression, Layla smiled. "I got some supplements recently. Isn't your dad not feeling well? So I thought I'd bring them over."
Amelia's eyes grew colder as she said, "No need. Who knows what's really in these? Rachel is still at home. You can toss those supplements in the trash or keep them for yourself."
Layla's face changed slightly, looking at Amelia with some displeasure. "Amelia, no matter what, I'm still your mom. How can you talk to me like that? You..."
Before she could finish, Amelia had already rolled up the car window and told the driver to go.
Layla watched as Amelia's car drove away, gritting her teeth. She felt a bit apprehensive, knowing Rachel was also at home. She still didn't quite dare to face Rachel.
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