Chapter 125
Three days later, the moment Raphael Davenport had been anticipating finally arrived—the day to collect his custom perfume.
He turned to Marcus Wainwright with a skeptical expression. “The perfume I commissioned—is it ready?”
“Indeed, Mr. Davenport. Ms. Sinclair has prepared it personally,” Marcus replied, barely containing his glee. He exchanged smug glances with the other technicians, relishing the impending humiliation of Isabella Sinclair.
When Raphael was ushered into the meeting room, he found Isabella seated calmly at the table, a delicate glass bottle resting before her. His skepticism deepened as he took in her youthful appearance.
“So, this is how Charisma Company treats its clients?” Raphael scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “Sending a child to deceive me? Do you take me for a fool?”
Before Isabella could respond, Marcus interjected with false concern. “Oh, we wouldn’t dare! This is Ms. Sinclair, our newly appointed lead perfumer. She managed to recreate your requested formula in just two hours!”
Raphael’s face darkened. “Two hours? Absurd! I paid a fortune for this commission precisely because it’s impossible. Multiple perfumeries have already failed—some outright refused the challenge!” The audacity of this young woman claiming success in mere hours was beyond comprehension.
Unfazed, Isabella lifted the bottle and extended it toward him. “Judge for yourself, Mr. Davenport. The scent will speak louder than words.”
Raphael scoffed. “If this is a fraud, I’ll sue your company into oblivion!” He snatched the bottle and sprayed a mist into the air. Marcus held his breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion of fury.
But as the fragrance enveloped him, Raphael froze. His brows knitted in shock, then lifted in awe. His eyes gleamed with sudden exhilaration.
Marcus, feigning concern, stepped forward. “Mr. Davenport, if the scent is too overpowering—”
Raphael shoved him aside. “No! This—this is it!” His voice trembled as he cradled the bottle like a sacred relic. “Our master perfumer left only fragmented notes. We believed it was lost forever. But you—you’ve resurrected it flawlessly!” He turned to Isabella, his earlier disdain replaced with reverence. “Charisma Company’s reputation is well-earned.”
The room fell silent. Marcus gaped, his smugness crumbling into disbelief.
Isabella remained composed. “We take our commitments seriously, Mr. Davenport.”
Then, with a faint smile, she gestured to a second bottle. “You might also appreciate this variation.”
Raphael hesitated before lifting it to his nose. His breath caught. “This is—”
“An enhanced version of your original formula,” Isabella explained. “I adjusted the ratios, particularly the iris extract. The core remains, but the complexity has deepened.”
Raphael’s astonishment erupted into laughter. “Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!” He seized both bottles, his earlier hostility vanished. “I’ll take this one as well. Consider Charisma my first choice for all future collaborations!”
As he departed, radiant with satisfaction, Marcus and his cronies stood dumbfounded. In two hours, Isabella had achieved what their entire team had failed to accomplish in weeks.
What kind of prodigy was she?
Only one word fit—genius.
