Harrison’s sight. Mark even added the foolish excuse that I wasn’t feeling well, which was why my face was pale and lifeless. He tried to divert Mr. Harrison’s attention back to him, talking about the sales targets for the next month that he had already surpassed, but Mark’s efforts were in vain. Mr. Harrison did not listen at all to Mark’s ramblings about sales figures or marketing strategies. Mr. Harrison raised his hand slightly, a firm signal for Mark to be quiet. Mark’s mouth closed instantly. His sentence was cut off mid-thought. The room fell silent again. It even seemed like people were holding their breath. Mr. Harrison moved past a petrified Mark and walked directly towards me.
I felt my heart stop. I dared not look him in the eye and lowered my head, afraid of making some mistake that could anger Mark even more or even get him fired. My hands, holding the tray, trembled more forcefully, causing the teacup on it to clink slightly. Mr. Harrison stopped right in front of me. An elegant and expensive cologne emanated from his body, masking the smell of food that permeated my clothes. Unexpectedly, Mr. Harrison extended his hand, not for the teacup, but to steady the tray that was about to fall from my trembling hands. His touch was firm and warm, conveying a strange sense of security.
He took the tray from me and placed it himself on a nearby table, an action that stunned everyone in the room. The president of a major corporation serving the host. Mark almost choked seeing the scene. Jessica watched with her mouth slightly open. Mr. Harrison looked at me again, not caring about the confused glances of the guests. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and resonant as he asked a single sentence question that pierced straight through the heart of my emotional defenses. “Why are you crying, ma’am?” he asked gently, but with authority. That question, filled with a genuine fatherly concern, broke down the wall that had been cracking since morning.