In the conference hall of the Carlton Grand Hotel, the crystal chandelier refracted a cold light.
Reporters from all directions had already set up their cameras, long guns and short cannons aimed at the podium, with a tense sense of oppression filling the air.
Evan Palmer, dressed in a well-tailored dark gray suit with a meticulously tied tie, stood at the side of the stage, frowning occasionally as he checked the time, a hint of a cold smile on his lips.
"The press conference will begin in five minutes,"
He turned his head to Adam Willow beside him and said,
"Where is Carlos?"
Adam Willow whispered,
"The PR department has been trying to contact him all day, but his phone has been unreachable."
Evan Palmer let out a sneer,
"It seems he's scared, doesn't dare to come."
At this moment, Adam Willow's gaze swept over the venue, suddenly paused— the door of the conference hall was pushed open, and Emily Parker walked in alone.
