The Substitute Wife My Poor Husband is a Billionaire novel Chapter 142

Tiffany had a pretty clear understanding of what Kaya was doing.

Unfortunately for the girl, she hated it the most when her subordinates were playing tricks to get ahead of their peers.

Tiffany raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If you‘re so worried," she said impatiently, then why don‘t you repair it yourself? If you can, then I will give you due credit for it."

Kaya blinked, speechless.

But Tiffany wasn‘t done yet.

She added, "Since it was you who broke the laptop last night, make sure to compensate the company for loss of property, and do it as soon as possible."

With that, she turned away and headed in Janet‘s direction.

Computers played a big role in their job as designers, and the Larson Group had spared no expense in equipping them with the latest tools the market had to offer.

All in all, the damages would cost at least a month‘s worth of Kaya‘s salary.

She glared at Janet, her hands clenching into fists.

It irked her to realize that she would have to lose a large amount of money without even accomplishing anything.

Janet, on the other hand, was about to leave after seeing that the matter had been resolved.

To her surprise, Tiffany stopped in front of her.

"Hurry and get back to redoing your drafts.Tomorrow‘s meeting will be at ten in the morning." Tiffany glanced at her watch.

"You still have twenty–four hours left.I look forward to your designs."

"Yes, Ms.Fisher.I‘m going back to work now."

Janet left with a wide smile on her face.

As soon as Janet got home, she made a beeline for her room and dove into her drafts.

The window was open, letting in a soft breeze that played with the white lace curtain.

A beam of sunlight poured into the room and landed on the desk, where she was hunched over, drawing.

Janet rolled her long hair into a haphazard bun and used one of her pencils to hold it in place.

Now and then, she would stand and walk around to stretch her muscles, and then she would get right back to her sketches.

This was decidedly more taxing than preparing for the final exams back at the university.

It felt as though she was racing against time, and both her hands were barely enough to keep up with the ideas that constantly came to mind.

Soon, the light outside dimmed, and rain began to pour.