I picked up my new bag, drove my new Aston Martin, and headed straight to the Austin Group.
Speaking of which, although this was Sarah’s family company, it was my first time coming here.
Looking at the magnificent building in front of me, I fell silent. Now I agreed with what my roommate said.
The Carlson family was indeed slightly inferior to the Austin Group, just a little bit.
I walked into the gate and went to the front desk to report my name.
I didn’t know if it was just my imagination, but I felt like she became even more polite after hearing my name.
“Miss Carlson, please wait a moment.”
“Okay.”
The receptionist made a phone call, and soon someone came down to pick me up.
Were interns treated so well now? Was there someone specifically here to pick them up?
I took a look and felt like my soul was about to leave my body.
Why did a lowly intern like me need Elvis’ assistant to pick up?
Dad, what kind of job did you find for me?
