Serena adjusted her blazer as her assistant, Emma, stepped into the office, a clipboard in hand.

Her presence reminded Serena of the embarrassing scene earlier. She avoided Emma’s gaze, forcing herself to maintain composure.

“Emma,” Serena started, pretending to be engrossed in the files on her desk, “what’s next on my schedule for today?”

Emma hesitated, her usual cheerful demeanor a bit restrained.

“Well, you have a dinner meeting with Mr. Pierre Rousseau from Paris. He flew in specifically for this meeting, so—”

Serena sighed heavily, cutting her off. “Cancel it.”

Emma blinked in surprise. “Cancel it?”

“Yes,” Serena said briskly, still not looking up. “Tell him something came up....