The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 113

The man in the glasses was practically vibrating with righteous indignation.

He clutched his thick, dazzling stack of resume papers, glaring at Celia with unadulterated bitterness.

"If this interview was just a meaningless formality, you didn't need to put on this whole charade, Mr. Zucker! You could have just handed her a desk!"

He shot Celia a venomous look, his eyes dropping to the single, flimsy sheet of paper she had brought. "And even if it is a formality, the least she could do is act like a professional! Showing up with one piece of paper—who does she think she's insulting?!"

The other candidates gathered around, whispering among themselves, eager to watch the drama unfold.

Alistair's expression remained perfectly unreadable. He raised an elegant brow, his voice chillingly apathetic. "Shimon. Graduated from Seaport University with a degree in finance. Previously employed at Forrester Group."

Shimon's eyes went wide. He stared at Alistair in absolute shock. "How... how did you..."

"Your failure to pass this interview wasn't just because you couldn't handle the pressure of Zucker Corp. HR ran a background check. Your hands weren't exactly clean during your time at Forrester."

Alistair leveled a glacial stare at the man. "Do you have any other questions?"

Shimon went pale, but he stubbornly gritted his teeth. "E-even if that's true, what about her?! How does she beat me with one piece of paper?!"

"Because that piece of paper only needs one line."

Alistair paused, his tone indifferent but absolute. "Currently serving as the Vice President of the Stafford Group."

Shimon's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

"Furthermore, let me make one thing very clear to everyone here," Alistair said, his voice calm, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with a frosty edge. "With her capabilities, she hardly needs to rely on connections."

He had simply stepped in because he didn't want her enduring the grueling psychological stress of the company's interviews.

—She was still young, after all.

Having cleared the air, Alistair led Celia away from the stunned crowd and into his private elevator. The doors slid shut, and they began their smooth ascent.

Inside, Celia stood beside him, a faint smirk playing on her lips. She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. "Uncle Alistair, were you worried about me?"

His dark lashes fluttered slightly as he turned his head to look at her. "I wasn't worried. I knew you'd pass the interview."

He just didn't see the point in letting her face that kind of ruthless interrogation.

Celia smiled, her eyes curving sweetly. "You know, people are going to say you're playing favorites."

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