Chapter 572 Picking Up Albert from Work at the Valdemar Group
Albert was a man who lived by the clock. When he said thirty minutes, he meant exactly thirty minutes—not thirty-one.
Everyone at the Valdemar Group knew this about him, so they timed their silence perfectly, scrambling to look productive before his return.
When Albert pushed through the conference room door, everyone stole glances from beneath lowered lashes, careful not to make direct eye contact.
Meeting his gaze now felt as dangerous as being called on by a teacher when you hadn't done the homework—that familiar cocktail of dread and the desperate hope to remain invisible.
Albert settled into his chair at the head of the long table, his expression carved from stone. His eyes swept the room with predatory precision, taking inventory of each person like a hawk surveying its territory.
"I don't want to see any more garbage," he said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Each word landed with surgical precision, leaving no room for argument or excuse.
Despite the collective urge to shrink into their chairs, the team consisted of seasoned Valdemar Group veterans who had weathered Albert's storms before.
The project manager cleared his throat and began walking through their revised approach, his voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air.
Albert listened with the intensity of a master craftsman examining flawed work. Every detail mattered to him; mediocrity was not just discouraged—it was forbidden.
When the presentations concluded, Albert's voice sliced through the silence: "Is this really the best you can do?"
The room fell into uncomfortable quiet, everyone exchanging helpless glances. Then Albert's phone buzzed against the table. He glanced down, and his entire demeanor shifted when he saw Yvette's name on the screen.
The message was simple: [How late are you working tonight?]
The change in Albert was immediate and unmistakable. The arctic chill that had surrounded him began to thaw, his rigid posture softening just slightly.
Vincent, ever the keen observer, caught the transformation and confirmed his suspicions with a quick glance at the phone screen.
Seizing the moment, Vincent spoke carefully, "You have that meeting with Mr. Turner first thing tomorrow morning. Perhaps we should call it a night—give everyone time to refine their proposals."
Albert's gaze lifted to meet Vincent's, those dark eyes unreadable as still water. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Vincent felt a familiar prickle of danger.
But whether it was exhaustion or Yvette's message working its magic, Albert didn't explode.
He checked his watch, his brow furrowing slightly. "How long do you need?"
The conference room held its collective breath. Vincent swallowed hard. "We'll call you back if we have a breakthrough tonight."
Albert gave a curt nod, rose from his chair, and left without another word.
The moment his footsteps faded down the hallway, the room exhaled as one.
"Vincent, you're a lifesaver," someone whispered, giving him a grateful thumbs-up.
"God, I hope he doesn't go back to those midnight marathon sessions," another colleague muttered.
"Less talking, more working," Vincent said, gathering his files. "I'd rather not pull an all-nighter."
As Vincent headed for the door, Albert's volatile mood weighing on his mind, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Yvette.
Sometimes being Albert's right hand meant playing matchmaker to save everyone's sanity.
Yvette sat curled on the sofa, her phone clutched in her hands like a lifeline, anxiety gnawing at her chest.
The memory of their argument played on repeat—how something so trivial had exploded into a full-blown fight, leaving Albert working late into the night instead of coming home.
She'd sent him a message hours ago: [How late are you working tonight?]
But instead of Albert's reply, Vincent's text appeared on her screen: [Mrs. Valdemar, Mr. Valdemar has finished his meeting. Would you like me to arrange for his pickup?]
The message hit her like a revelation. Of course—the whole argument had started because she'd forgotten to pick him up from his appointment. How had she not thought of this solution sooner?
Yvette felt the familiar sting of regret. She should have been the one to make things right, not Vincent cleaning up her mess.
Albert wasn't the type to be easily appeased with a few apologetic words—he needed actions, not promises.
Without hesitation, she grabbed her coat. She'd considered bringing BoBo and CiCi, but they were already fast asleep, and this was something she needed to do alone.
The ride to the Valdemar Group felt endless. When she finally stood before the towering glass building, a bitter wind cut through her coat, making her shiver. Even at this late hour, the offices blazed with light—a testament to Albert's relentless standards.
Yvette took a steadying breath, clenched her fists for courage, and walked inside.
Back in the conference room, the team worked with renewed urgency. Laptops hummed, keyboards clicked, and the air thrummed with focused energy.
Albert had returned and was methodically reviewing their revised proposals when a soft knock interrupted the silence.
Everyone froze. Who would be foolish enough to disturb Albert at this hour? They mentally prepared to witness someone's professional execution.
The door opened, and a gentle, hesitant voice drifted in: "I'm sorry to interrupt."
Every head turned toward the doorway. A woman stood there in an elegant cream wool coat, her dark hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Even without makeup, her natural beauty was undeniable—the kind that made rooms go quiet.
The atmosphere shifted instantly, like a stone dropped into still water. Despite their attempts to appear professional, curiosity radiated from every corner of the room.
Albert looked up from his documents, irritation flickering across his features until his eyes found the woman at the door. His expression transformed completely.
"Yvette?" His voice carried surprise and something softer. "What are you doing here?"
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
