But no matter what, he couldn't let Peter take advantage of Agnes.

If Mr. Whitfield ever came asking questions, The station manager didn't want to take the blame.

At dinner, Peter was pushing drinks on Agnes, but Agnes wasn't having any of it.

The station manager, bless him, stepped in to deflect for her more than once.

For that, deep down, Agnes felt a hint of gratitude.

Peter, though, he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her.

He was constantly drumming up some excuse to chat her up.

And with the liquid courage, he even started getting handsy.

Agnes was utterly repulsed. She dodged his advances with a dancer's grace.

But Peter was increasingly crossing the line, and Agnes was about ready to snap.

Thankfully, right when dinner seemed to drag on forever, Ryder called.

The ringtone was like a chorus of angels to Agnes' ears.

She popped up, excusing herself, "Sorry, I need to take this."

Once Agnes was out, even the station manager let out a sigh of relief.

Peter's intentions were as clear as day.

Seems he was clueless about Agnes and Jared's relationship.

The way this was going, it looked like trouble brewing.

Sure, having Agnes come was supposed to be a smart move.

But who knew it'd turn into such a nail-biter.

Agnes was walking out.

Peter squinted after her retreating figure, his face clouding with displeasure.

Out in the corridor, Agnes walked as she talked, drifting to the far end.

"What are you doing?" Ryder's voice came through, all soft and concerned.

Agnes let out an exhausted sigh. Must be the relief of escaping that dinner table.

"I'm at dinner," she breathed out.

Ryder picked up on the strain in her voice, "Why do you sound so beat from just a dinner?"

"Because there's a creep, okay? Being ogled by that type of guy, who wouldn't be tired?"

Agnes was venting, but the second the words left her mouth, she remembered she was talking to Ryder.

Complaining about this to him felt a bit... off. Plus, Ryder was the big cheese at the Tim Group now. And that creep was the marketing manager.

Sure enough, Ryder's voice turned dark as a storm cloud, "What creep? Where are you right now?"

Agnes sighed, "Forget it, don't worry about me. I can handle a sleaze like that all on my own. I won't be taken advantage of."

But Ryder insisted, "Tell me where you are. I'll come get you."

"It's really not necessary, I've got this."

Ryder went quiet for a moment, then relented, "Alright then."

They chatted a bit more, and then Agnes hung up.

She kind of regretted bringing it up with Ryder.

But whatever, after today, she and Peter wouldn't cross paths again.

Having already left the private room, Agnes had zero intention of going back.

But as she turned around, there was Peter, not far off, heading her way.

Agnes frowned. And sure enough, Peter closed the gap.

"Ms. Pritchard, was that your boyfriend on the line?" he slurred, booze on his breath, but edging way too close for comfort.

Agnes stepped back, her voice dropping a few degrees, "Mr. Peter, I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Don't be so cold, Ms. Pritchard, I'm just looking out for you."

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