The elevator dinged softly, announcing their arrival. Betty stepped out, her heels clicking with exaggerated confidence. Behind her followed a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sleek suit, his bald head gleaming under the lights. He moved with calm authority, a leather briefcase in one hand and intelligence etched into every line of his composed expression.
The receptionist looked up from her desk. "Hello, ma'am. How can I help you?" she asked as Betty made a direct path toward Philip's office.
Betty paused, arching a brow. "Excuse me? Are you new here?"
The young woman stood, smiling as she extended a hand. "Nicole. I started working here last week."
Betty didn't take the hand. She glanced at it, then nodded curtly. "That explains the interrogation. I'm his ex-wife. And this"—she gestured beside her—"is my lawyer, Mr. Reginald."
Nicole's smile faltered slightly. "My apologies, ma'am." She turned toward the man and offered her hand again. "Welcome, sir."
