?Chapter 652:


    ni gave a softugh. She knew Minna’s antics all too well. “Don’t bother; Minna is just stirring up drama,” she said.


    But Martha’s worry lingered. That scream had sounded genuinely miserable. As the cleaning team’s leader, she felt a duty to act. She cared about people and was always ready to help when someone was in need.


    “I’ll take a quick look,” she said, going inside the restroom. The restroom had multiple stalls, and Martha couldn’t pinpoint the one Minna was in. “Is everything alright in here?” she called out.


    In one of the stalls, Minna had been waiting, her n already in motion. She sat theatrically on the toilet, clutching her ankle in a dramatic pose. She was betting on whether Ethan cared about her even a little bit.


    As thepany’s CEO, wouldn’t he at least check on an employee injured on the job?


    In Minna’s mind, if Ethan stormed into the women’s restroom, even out of mere concern for an employee, it would prove he wasn’t entirely indifferent to her.


    Hearing footsteps, Minna’s hopes red. Even if it wasn’t Ethan, the person could fetch him for her.


    “I’m in here,” she called out.


    Martha followed the voice and found Minna gripping her ankle, which appeared swollen.


    “Oh, goodness,” Martha eximed. “What happened? Is it bad?”


    Minna’s eyes darted past Martha, searching for Ethan, but he was nowhere in sight. None of the other secretaries or cleaners were here either.


    Frustration and bitterness churned within her. Hadn’t anyone heard her cry out? How could her coworkers be so cold as to not even check on her? Especially ni—they shared an office. How could she be so heartless?


    Minna’s resentment toward ni deepened.


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    She also looked down on Martha. She believed Martha seemed tidy andpetent, yet she was doing such a lowly job, cleaning.


    Minna’s tone turned sharp and impatient. “I’m fine. I just twisted my ankle by ident. Can you go get Mr. Mitchell for me?”


    Martha blinked, puzzled. Minna seemed like a smart person, but her request was utterly ridiculous.


    “This is the women’s restroom. It’s not proper for Mr. Mitchell toe in here,” Martha said.


    Inwardly, she saw the truth. She could tell Minna was doing this on purpose.


    No wonder ni had told her to ignore Minna earlier.


    Minna, undeterred, exaggerated her pained expression, convinced that the more pitiful she looked, the more others would want to help her. “It’s fine! Mr. Mitchell’s mother already sees me as her future daughter-inw. Just ask Mr. Mitchell toe, and he will do it. Hurry!” she said.


    Martha nearly burst outughing at the absurdity. This girl was delusional. She was expecting the CEO to barge into the women’s restroom for her.


    Still, Martha’s kindness held firm. She kept her tone gentle. “Let’s get you out of here first. There’s a first aid station in the building with ointment and bandages. I’ll take you there.”


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