Wendy finally felt vindicated as she saw the results-her earlier frustration melted away into pure relief.


    Her intuition had been spot on.


    Maybest time, when thepany''s golden boy helped her and Isadora avoid that round of drinks, it could''ve been a coincidence.


    But today? Today''s decision was a clear, deliberate act of favoritism.


    Wendy nced at Isadora, her eyes sparkling with envy and admiration.


    I wish I had a prince charming looking out for me, too...


    "Isadora, Rowena-we won! We actually did it!"


    Wendy couldn''t hold back her excitement. "See? I told you there was foul y, but no one believed me! Now look-the truth is out. Seafarer Designs really is the


    best!"


    Abbott''s expression darkened, his lips curving into a cold, bitter smile.


    So what if they''d won this round? He still had onest card to y.


    His gaze darted menacingly toward Rowena, making his intentions clear.


    Meanwhile, everyone in the conference room who''d just been mocking Seafarer Designs was suddenly eating their words.


    After the meeting adjourned, Jonathan rushed over to Victor, desperate to exin himself.


    "Mr. Fitzgerald, I swear I had no idea Carlson was up to something. Our group has been absolutelymitted to a fair, transparent selection process. There''s been no personal agenda-none at all..."


    Victor cut him off with an icy impatience, his voice heavy with authority. "Bring him here."


    Within seconds, Carlson was ushered back in to stand before Victor.


    Carlson''s legs trembled uncontrobly, his head bowed so low it nearly touched his chest, unable to meet the intimidating man''s eyes.


    Victor''s voice sliced through the silence, cold and razor-sharp. "Subjectivity, was it?"


    Carlson froze, a chill running from his feet to his scalp, his mouth opening and closing without a single word escaping.


    Victor lounged back in his chair, then leaned forward, long fingers holding his phone, which he pressed beneath Carlson''s chin, forcing his head up.


    A shadow of a smile yed on Victor''s lips. "Tell me about your so-called subjectivity. For instance, what is it you dislike so much?"


    The tension in the air was suffocating, and Carlson could barely breathe-he felt like someone was squeezing the life out of him.


    Panic flickered in his eyes, and suddenly he copsed to his knees.


    "Mr. Fitzgerald, I swear-I won''t do it again! Please, just give me another chance. I''ll have no preferences, no bias, nothing-ever again!"


    Victor turned to Jonathan, who was standing to the side looking utterly lost. "You have two options: deal with him, or face the consequences yourself."


    With that, Victor stood, adjusted his jacket, and strolled out with a slow, deliberate grace.


    A momentter, amotion erupted inside the conference room.


    Jonathan kicked Carlson, who was still crumpled on the floor, and snarled, "You idiot! You''ve ruined thepany''s reputation!"


    Out in the hallway, Abbott was getting angrier with every step. Halfway down the corridor, he stopped abruptly.


    Clenching his fists, eyes wild with frustration, he smashed his knuckles into the wall.


    Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!


    His assistant, trailing behind, gulped nervously and kept a safe distance, worried Abbott might turn that fury on him instead.


    As Victor passed down the corridor, his casual gazended on Abbott and the dent he''d left in the wall.


    Victor stopped, towering over Abbott, a cold, mocking smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Your mother''s not here, Abbott. No need to show off your filial devotion to the wall."


    Abbott jolted at the sound of Victor''s voice, suddenly realizing he''d been caught losing hisposure. He quickly dropped his hand.


    "Mr. Fitzgerald... I, uh, I just got carried away. That''s all, really-don''t read too much into it."