Chapter 126
The conference room buzzed with anticipation as Alexander Kingsley took his place at the head of the table. The air was thick with unspoken tension—every executive present knew the stakes of today’s meeting.
Raphael Davenport was infamous in the fragrance industry for his impossibly high standards. Countless brands had tried and failed to impress him, but this time, Charisma Company had succeeded. Rival firms were already scrambling to uncover how they’d managed it.
Alexander was well aware of who truly deserved the credit—Isabella Sinclair. He intended to make sure she was recognized.
“The project was executed flawlessly,” he announced, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Who led this initiative? The bonus for this success will be substantial.”
Before Isabella could respond, Marcus Wainwright rose from his seat, chest puffed out with misplaced confidence.
“I took charge of this one,” he declared, his tone dripping with false modesty. “Mr. Kingsley, we appreciate the acknowledgment, but it’s simply part of our job. I won’t lie—the pressure was intense when we first approached Mr. Davenport. But seeing the results now? Worth every sleepless night.”
His words were carefully crafted—just ambiguous enough to imply leadership without outright stealing credit. After all, he had been the one to establish initial contact with Raphael and oversee the early stages of the perfume project.
But his attempt to undermine Isabella had backfired spectacularly.
“So it was you,” Isabella remarked coolly, her gaze slicing through him like ice. She could see the smug satisfaction in his eyes—he truly believed she wouldn’t challenge him in front of the entire team.
And she wouldn’t.
Arguing over praise was beneath her. She was a leader now, not some petty supervisor scrambling for recognition.
Yet the others exchanged uneasy glances. Marcus’s behavior wasn’t just unprofessional—it was dangerous. Taking credit for someone else’s work was a career-ending move in their world. If he could do it to Isabella, who was to say he wouldn’t do it to them next?
The tension in the room thickened.
“Is that true?” Alexander’s voice turned razor-sharp, his piercing stare locking onto Marcus.
Isabella intervened smoothly. “It was a team effort.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed. He knew she was deflecting, but the truth needed to be acknowledged.
“Then by company policy, everyone involved will see a bonus.”
Silence.
The executives blinked in surprise. The rumors about Isabella—cold, ruthless, an ice queen—had painted her as someone who clawed her way to the top without regard for others. But here she was, refusing to take sole credit, ensuring her team was rewarded.
She didn’t notice the shift in their perception.
Just as she was about to move on to the next agenda item, Sebastian Harrington burst through the doors, urgency written across his face. He leaned in, whispering something that made Alexander’s expression darken instantly.
“Don’t celebrate yet,” Alexander said, tapping his pen against the table. The cheerful atmosphere evaporated like mist.
“Mr. Davenport just called.” His gaze swept the room before landing squarely on Marcus. “The fragrance sample was perfect, but they’ve only received 4,500 of the promised 5,000 bottles. We have one day to deliver the remaining 500.”
Marcus paled. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
“This was your project,” Alexander continued, voice dangerously low. “How could you make such a mistake? Did you forget basic arithmetic?”
Marcus hadn’t seen this disaster coming. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
“N-No—I oversaw the initial stages, but Ms. Sinclair handled the final approval!” he blurted, desperation clawing at his throat. “This isn’t my fault!”
Instead of basking in praise, he was now scrambling to save himself—and his first instinct was to throw Isabella under the bus.
