Chapter 291

Isabella pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her voice remained steady. “Ms. Worthington wishes to terminate the contracts?”

She paused for a brief moment. “That is acceptable.”

“Acceptable?”

Did Isabella Montgomery just say it was acceptable?

Adrian Sinclair stared at her in disbelief. He quickly moved to her side, his voice a hushed, urgent whisper. “Have you completely lost your mind, Isabella?”

Julian Hawthorne looked equally distressed, his face etched with a deep frown. Terminating these contracts meant a staggering ten-billion-dollar loss. Their artists would also lose their chance to attend the prestigious event.

There seemed to be no way to recover from this.

Isabella walked calmly to the head of the conference table and took the president’s seat. Her gaze was fixed on Beatrice. “Ten billion is not a problem for me. I can arrange the payment immediately.”

She leaned forward slightly. “However, you should consider this. I will only be losing ten billion. You, Ms. Worthington, will be losing an invaluable opportunity at the Celestial Gala in three days.”

With a sharp flick of her wrist, she pushed a proposal folder across the polished table.

Skreet.

The folder slid smoothly directly toward Beatrice. Beatrice picked it up and opened it. Her eyes widened as she scanned the contents.

The proposal was… exceptional.

Even under immense pressure, Isabella had devised a truly ingenious strategy.

The entire plan, however, hinged on Arabella’s innocence. Beatrice lifted her eyes to meet Isabella’s. “Harrison Winslow has already given his public statement. How can you claim Arabella was deceived? Do you possess any proof?”

“The evidence will be here within the next forty-eight hours. You should review my track record, Ms. Worthington. I have never failed to deliver on my word,” Isabella stated, her confidence radiating an almost regal authority.

It was intimidating.

“Under different circumstances, I would not hesitate to take this risk,” Beatrice conceded. “But the Celestial Gala is different.”

She placed the proposal back on the table. “Every costume for that event is custom-made for each specific artist. My team would need to work non-stop for a minimum of three days to produce just one garment. This is precisely why the liquidation damages are so extraordinarily high.”

Her tone was final. “Therefore, I must terminate the contracts with your artists today. I need to immediately begin searching for suitable replacements. I apologize, but this is the only logical course of action.”

Isabella’s expression darkened. She had not anticipated such stubbornness. Beatrice doubted her capabilities and distrusted her guarantee. The apprehension was understandable; even a one percent chance of failure could catastrophically damage the Celestial Gala.

It seemed termination was the only option left. Just as Isabella was about to reluctantly agree…

“Ms. Worthington, surely there’s no need for such haste? Can we not discuss this further?” A deep, magnetic voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

All heads turned toward the door.

Alexander Whitmore walked into the room, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit.

Isabella frowned. What was Alexander doing at her company?

Beatrice, however, immediately stood up, a surprised smile gracing her features. “Alexander! What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?”

“I heard you were paying a visit, Ms. Worthington. It seemed only right that I stop by to say hello. You are an exceptionally busy woman. You never seem to have time for me these days.” His tone was warm, laced with a hint of playful humor.

Beatrice chuckled softly. “Look at you, still such a charmer! I wouldn’t be where I am today without your help all those years ago. I’ve just been preoccupied with some minor issues recently.”

There was a history between them. Years ago, Beatrice had been hiking in a remote wilderness area. She had run out of oxygen near a mountain peak and was close to death. Alexander had been there. He provided her with an oxygen tank and stayed with her until she recovered.