Aria, meanwhile, looked like she'd been struck by lightning.
Doesn't ring a bell...
He forgot her?
It was incomprehensible.
How could he possibly forget who she was?
She had spent her entire miserable exile fantasizing about their grand reunion.
As the heavy awkwardness suffocated the air, Melanie helpfully chimed in.
"Don't you remember? She's the daughter of the mistress my dad married."
At her prompt, Preston let out a mocking sound of realization.
"Ah, her. But didn't your father exile her to the countryside?"
As Preston delivered the deadpan question, Melanie responded with an exaggerated, bewildered shrug.
Aria's face cycled rapidly between flushed red and sickly pale, a suffocating wave of humiliation washing over her.
The two colleagues exchanged desperate glances, wishing the floor would swallow them whole.
Even without all the gritty details, the implication was crystal clear.
Their new boss was the product of a homewrecking affair.
And she had been kicked out of her own family in disgrace.
Was a woman like that really fit to be their Director?
A mutual judgment passed silently between the two women.
But at the end of the day, Aria signed their paychecks.
They couldn't afford to offend their new superior right out of the gate, not if they wanted to keep their jobs.
The corporate job market was brutal right now; a stable paycheck wasn't something to gamble with.
So they communicated through frantic eye contact, debating whether to slowly back away or say something to diffuse the radioactive tension.
Fleeing the scene would be too obvious and leave their boss completely isolated.
But if they intervened...
What exactly were they supposed to say to fix this?
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