Bernard checked the time, then turned to Taylor, "Planning to mooch off my lunch, are you?"
Taylor waved his hand nonchalantly, "Nope, my wife's bringing me lunch. I'll hang here for a bit then take off."
Bernard blinked, "Your wife... delivers your lunch every day?"
Taylor beamed, "Yeah, she insists outdoor food is sketchy, so she prefers to deliver it herself."
As if on cue, a graceful figure emerged outside the CEO's office. There stood Taylor's wife, lunch box in hand, waving at him.
Seeing his wife, Taylor sprang up, "Time for me to split. Don’t forget to eat."
As Taylor accepted the lunch box from his wife and they strolled hand in hand towards the elevator, Bernard's expression subtly changed.
He picked up his phone on the table, hesitated for a few seconds, then texted Eleanor.
[Eleanor, the grub at the company canteen sucks.]
Eleanor, who was busy painting, blinked at the unexpected message.
[Well, how about eating out? There are plenty of posh restaurants near Laurence Group. Take your pick.]
Bernard raised an eyebrow before typing back.
[No, the food outside sucks too.]
[What about takeaway then?]
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