Chapter 199

Sophia Reynolds flipped open the report in her hands, her fingertips lightly tapping the data.

"The new collection exceeded sales expectations within hours of launch this morning."

Evelyn Sullivan took the document, her eyes swiftly scanning the numbers.

"It's not enough. What MY needs most right now is a stable supply chain. Any progress with the fabric suppliers?"

Silence filled the conference room.

Simon Reynolds cleared his throat.

"Ms. Sullivan, with raw material prices skyrocketing, our current budget makes it difficult to secure quality suppliers."

Evelyn lifted her gaze, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Do you have a solution, Mr. Reynolds?"

"I happen to know a few textile merchants who might be willing to work with us."

"Show me the quotes first."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Simon's face.

"I'll contact them immediately."

After the meeting, Sophia hurried into Evelyn's office.

"Evelyn, don't trust my uncle. He's pulled this bait-and-switch before—our store ratings plummeted last time."

Evelyn twirled a pen between her fingers.

"I'm aware."

"By the way, that new designer you hired is impressive. She submitted two drafts before lunch."

"She's naturally talented."

Evelyn recalled Bianca Quinn's defiant gaze during the interview. If not for her mother's medical bills, the girl would never have settled for ghostwriting.

Sophia had barely left when the housekeeper called.

Victoria Farley's hysterical sobs pierced through the receiver.

"Evelyn Sullivan! Are you trying to kill me?! Your father said he'll divorce me if we don't secure the Sullivan Group project!"

Evelyn's fingers stilled.

"Ms. Farley, you should be speaking with Ethan Sullivan."

"He said he won't reconsider unless you forgive us!" Victoria's voice trembled. "He won't even see Isabella now!"

Evelyn's brow furrowed.

"Ethan's decisions have nothing to do with me."

She ended the call and flipped her phone facedown.

Victoria hurled the device against the wall, shattering the screen.

"That ungrateful wretch! I should've smothered her at birth!"

Isabella Jackson handed her mother a steaming cup.

"Mother, don't upset yourself."

Turning to the housekeeper, she said gently, "I'll compensate you for the phone."

The housekeeper stared at the blackened screen, lips pressed tight. It had contained the only photos of her grandson's first month.

Once alone, Isabella rubbed Victoria's back.

"The project... it's hopeless now."

Tears splashed onto Victoria's knuckles.

"Are we really getting divorced?"