"A misunderstanding?" the owner repeated with an icy chuckle, dripping with disbelief.
"So, I must be hearing things now? You told a customer this car is not for sale, but it's sitting on my VIP showroom floor. Do I need my ears checked, or are you just that stupid?"
At that moment Harrington's breath hitched as the voice on the other end of the line roared through the phone.
"If you know what's good for you, sell that Lamborghini to the rightful buyer immediately!"
The anger in his boss's tone sent a sharp chill down his spine.
"And listen carefully—if you don't want to be sacked on the spot, you will apologize sincerely. If not, consider yourself jobless!"
Without waiting for a response the call ended abruptly.
A suffocating silence followed, but the weight of the words crashed down on him instantly.
For a brief moment, he just stood there, his face paling, his hands trembling.
Then—panic.
