Anderson
I stared at the glaring screen of my laptop, my eyes fixed on the email I had sent to Mr. Davis nearly a week ago. No response. Not even a polite acknowledgment. My fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk as frustration struck in my chest. How could someone ignore an offer like mine?
The demand for my latest collection was already faltering, and the clock was ticking. I couldn't afford to lose momentum now, not when so much was riding on this deal.
My phone buzzed on the desk beside me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen: Mom.
The frustration in me spiked. I let the call ring out, ignoring it completely. She called again, her name flashing insistently.
"Not now," I muttered, shoving the phone onto the desk as I grabbed my keys and stormed out of the house
