Molly Wellington finally calmed down to look around; this was indeed the guest room she was staying in, and the overcoat she wore yesterday was lying at the foot of the bed.
She was wearing a blouse and a fitted skirt, her shoes left at the bedside.
Her notebook was on the bedside table, with a stack of printed documents underneath it.
Documents? When did she print those?
Molly Wellington felt like her memory had a lapse; she pulled out the documents from beneath the notebook and quickly went through them.
The more she looked, the more astonishment shone in her bright almond-shaped eyes.
This was indeed the negotiation materials she rushed out last night.
Yet, it wasn't completely the same.
Much more detailed than her draft, it supplemented areas she hadn't had time to ponder over, while cutting out parts that could be easily exploited by the opposing side.
