Chapter 127
The tension in the room was suffocating.
A mistake like this could cost them everything. If word got out about Raphael Davenport’s complaint, it wouldn’t just damage the company’s reputation—it could send stocks crashing.
Isabella Sinclair parted her lips to speak, but before she could, one of the junior perfumers snapped.
“Marcus, how can you say this isn’t your fault?” The woman’s voice was sharp, her glare unwavering. “You led this project. I was there. Ms. Sinclair only assisted with blending the sample. The errors that followed weren’t hers.”
This was the first time anyone had openly challenged Marcus Wainwright.
“You took credit for her work before,” another chimed in, crossing her arms. “Now you’re trying to shift blame? Pathetic.”
The floodgates opened.
“Exactly! From formulation to coordination, Isabella did the heavy lifting. You hogged the praise, but now you’re running from responsibility?”
“Mr. Kingsley, check the records. Marcus reported 4,500 bottles initially. The numbers don’t lie.”
Marcus’s face burned crimson. “You’re all lying!” He hadn’t expected this mutiny.
Isabella observed coldly. Some defended her out of principle, others out of self-interest. It didn’t matter. She’d learned long ago that loyalty was fleeting.
Alexander Kingsley remained eerily calm. He tossed the project file onto the table. “The math is simple. Yet you failed. Why? Because you’re too busy playing office politics.” His voice was ice. “If you can’t handle the job, leave.”
Marcus scrambled to backtrack. “Mr. Kingsley, I—I just forgot. I didn’t mean—”
The room’s collective eye-roll was almost audible.
Isabella silenced him with a look. “Right now, damage control matters more than blame. Raphael Davenport is meticulous. If he spreads word of this mishap, we’re finished.” She straightened. “We need to compensate him and fast-track production.”
Alexander nodded, approving of her clear-headed approach.
“Ms. Sinclair is right. Focus on solutions.”
After the meeting, Isabella took charge. “Follow the revised production schedule. No deviations. If issues arise, alert me immediately.”
Then she grabbed her bag and headed to meet Raphael.
The moment she entered the teahouse, she bowed slightly. “Mr. Davenport, I apologize for our oversight. There’s no excuse. We’ll make this right.”
She poured his favorite tea—a blend with top notes of bergamot and jasmine.
His eyebrows lifted. “How did you know?”
“The last time you visited, you wore a cologne with this tea’s essence.” She smiled faintly. “Perfume is a person’s silent introduction.”
His irritation visibly eased.
Then she presented a small vial. “A personal creation. Top note: black tea. Base: aged sandalwood.”
Raphael inhaled, his expression softening. “Exquisite.”
“Consider it an apology gift. As for your order, we’ll complete it within 24 hours.”
He laughed, tension dissolving. “A minor hiccup. I’m impressed you came personally.” He slid his card across the table. “Join my company. Your talent deserves better compensation.”
