Except for Kingston Howard.
There was another person at Lawrence Headquarters who was closely watching Enna Clark.
In the ultra-luxurious President's office on the 88th floor with 360-degree panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, the neatly-suited man glanced at his phone from time to time.
After waiting for half an hour, he had not received any text messages.
Finally, unable to contain his irritation, he slammed his hand on the desk and dialed his assistant's intercom, "Where are you, get in here now!"
In less than a minute, the assistant had walked in, wiping his sweat, "Lord, what would you like me to do?"
The haughty man stood up, his noble brow so furrowed it was almost knotted, his handsome face filled with displeasure, "Didn't I tell you to go to the Planning Department and tell them they could take the day off today? Why haven't you gone? If you can't handle this simple task, do you even want your job?"
