Three hours later.
Tristan was half-way through the clothing sets on the rack when a new person entered—marched into—the photo set.
It was a tall woman in her mid-fifties with black hair held up with a pair of chopsticks. Despite her age, her style of clothing and makeup was youthful without being gaudy—a colorful skirt and a cardigan over a shirt with a flower pattern on it.
She held herself with dignity and self-assurance. Like a leader.
Tristan felt apprehensive the moment she appeared. Not only because she was a woman, and those usually spelled trouble. There was too much anger radiating from her.
"Mr. Joyland! I can't believe you would greenlight this photo set entirely on your own. What have you been thinking?!" the woman said right from the door.
