Chapter 181

Olivier sank into the leather armchair in his study, unbuttoning his shirt collar as Margarette entered, carrying his jacket. He waved her away without thanks, stretching his legs.

“That woman is something else,” he said, rubbing his temple. “Acting like she knows everything just because she closed a few property deals and landed one contract. Suddenly she thinks she’s a mineral rights expert?”

Margarette hung the jacket neatly over a chair and faced him. “She does act a little… confident,” she said carefully. “You were right not to let her speak much in front of Father. It was disrespectful.”

Olivier scoffed. “It’s not just disrespect. It’s delusional. She thinks that because she talks fast and quotes reports, she understands real business. That’s the problem with women like her; they confuse book knowledge with experience.”

Margarette nodded. “That’s why I wanted my niece for Liam. She knew how to stay quiet; she wouldn’t have challenged him.” Liam, however, disliked the idea and even bullied her niece out of the industry. Margarette regretted her actions, knowing Liam's rejection irrevocably harmed her niece.

“Your niece would have made sense,” Olivier muttered. “But Liam’s always been difficult. Always doing the opposite of what’s expected. Just like his mother.”

He leaned forward, pouring himself a drink. “But it doesn’t matter now. Father signed off. The money’s coming. I don’t need anyone’s approval—not Liam’s, not hers.”

Margarette moved to the couch. She folded her hands and nodded. “You’ve always known what you’re doing. You’re just ahead of everyone else. They can’t see it yet.”

Olivier downed half his drink. “Exactly. I’ve been in this industry longer than she’s been out of school. But suddenly everyone wants to hear what she thinks.”

“You should do whatever you want,” Margarette said, refilling his glass. “Don’t let them get in your way.”

“I won’t. Let her play the clever wife. It won’t last. The moment something goes wrong, she’ll realize no one’s impressed anymore. Least of all in this family.”

Margarette nodded quietly. “She’ll learn. They always do.”

“Miss, here’s an invitation from Mr. Weiss,” Anna said. “It’s for the engagement party this Friday.” She gave Izzy a hesitant look before handing her the pink envelope.

“Thanks, you can put it on the table,” Izzy said. She was putting final touches on her report, due before she left the company on Friday. She needed to ensure a smooth transition, not for the company, but for her colleagues who chose to remain.

Izzy continued typing, focused on her document. She barely glanced at the pink envelope. The engagement party wasn't her concern.

Seeing her preoccupation, Anna quietly left, closing the door. She spotted Albert outside, looking uncertain.

Anna raised an eyebrow. “Do you need something?”

Albert cleared his throat. “I was just wondering… how did Miss Rossi react?”

Anna frowned. “React to what?”

Albert shifted. “To the invitation.”

Anna crossed her arms. “She didn’t react. She’s working. What exactly was she supposed to do?”

Albert nodded quickly, muttered something, and left. Anna watched him go, confused.

A moment later, Pamella Johnson strode into the hallway. Ignoring Anna, she headed straight for Izzy’s office.

“Excuse me,” Anna said, stepping in front of her. “You don’t have an appointment.”

Pamella pushed past. “Don’t waste my time.”

Anna turned to follow but stopped, stunned.

Inside, Izzy looked up from her desk. She stared at Pamella, her expression unreadable. “Anna, call security…”

Pamella remained standing near the door, arms folded.

“I’m here because of Calen,” she said.

Izzy leaned back, tilting her head slightly. After a pause, she gestured toward the chair.

“Fine. Sit down.”

Pamella looked around. “Nice office,” she said. “Too bad you won’t be needing it soon.”

After a moment, Pamella sat and turned to Anna.

“Get me a coffee,” she said.

“Don’t bother, Anna,” Izzy said. “I wouldn’t want her to accuse me of poisoning her or something.”

Pamella’s jaw tensed. “You’re petty.”

Izzy shrugged. “Maybe. Now tell me why you’re here.”

Pamella exhaled, pulling something from her purse. “I came to deliver this personally.” She looked at the pink envelope. “Glad to see you didn’t throw it away.”

Izzy glanced at it, then back at Pamella. “Why would I? It’s just an invitation. Not like it means anything.”

Pamella held out another envelope. “This one’s special. It’s our wedding invitation. I want you to be there… as one of my bridesmaids.”

Izzy didn’t take the envelope. She leaned back slightly. “I’ll have to decline.”

Pamella tilted her head. “Still bitter about Calen marrying someone else?”

Izzy chuckled, her expression clear. “Where exactly are you getting that idea? And what makes you think I care?”

Pamella didn’t respond immediately. She tapped the envelope. “If you’re not bitter, then what’s the problem? Isn’t being my bridesmaid the perfect way to show everyone you’re fine with it?”

“Do I look like Calen’s mother? Why would I need to bless your marriage?” Izzy thought Pamella, a well-known socialite, was behaving oddly, seemingly intent on provoking her. Izzy struggled to understand Pamella's motives. Had she missed something?

“Well, my dearest, our world is a bit different, isn’t it?” Pamella said, ignoring Izzy’s tone. She shifted. “In our world, face matters. You know that. It would be better for everyone if you stood up there as a bridesmaid. It shows there’s no bad blood. That everything is fine between us. Obviously, this is beneficial to both our families.”

Izzy said nothing, watching Pamella, trying to recall any past interaction that might explain this sudden focus on appearances. They weren't friends; in fact, Pamella had schemed against her recently. Her behavior made no sense.

She tilted her head. “Why is it so important to you that I look like the bigger person? We’re not close. You tried to throw me under the bus more than once. So what’s the big deal now?”

Pamella didn’t answer immediately. She stood and circled the table. Izzy stood as well; she disliked people looming over her.

“What’s your deal, Pamella? This is tiring and frankly, you are disturbing me,” Izzy asked.

Pamella didn’t answer immediately. She extended her hand.

“I’m marrying Calen,” Pamella said. “It makes sense to settle the past. We’re women. Women should stand next to each other, not against each other. Don’t you think so?”

When Izzy didn’t take her hand, Pamella smiled and grabbed it before Izzy could move.

The door opened. Calen entered and stopped. His eyes fell on their joined hands.

“What are you—” he began, then froze, seeing what looked like a handshake.