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Chapter 615
Chapter 615:
“I… I do my best to support the company’s vision, ma’am,” she stammered, her voice thin and trembling.
Beatrice’s hand came down on the table. The crystal goblets shuddered. “This is a dining room, not a venture capital pitch,” she snapped. “Do not recite your pathetic PR scripts to me p>
She leaned forward, her eyes pinning Belle to the chair. “Explain to me the exact mechanism you intend to use to solve the thermal shock disintegration problem in the Phoenix-X7. Because according to the patent filings you submitted, your design lacks an active cooling loop—which means the casing will catastrophically fail within four seconds of reaching Mach 3 p>
Belle’s mouth opened. No sound came out.
She had no idea what Beatrice was talking about. She did not understand the mathematics. She had stolen the designs from Isolde’s discarded sketchpads and placed her own name on them. Panic seized her chest. She looked frantically at Grayson, her eyes begging him to intervene—to say something, anything, to save her.
Grayson stared down at his plate and slowly, methodically cut a piece of meat. He had witnessed this kind of surgical precision before—at The Institute, where Isolde had dismantled Belle’s credibility in front of the country’s finest scientific minds. But here, in his family’s home, the brutality was of a different order. This was not an academic refutation. It was a public execution, and his grandmother had handed Isolde the axe. He knew he should intervene. The crushing weight of Beatrice’s threat held him perfectly still. He did not look up. He abandoned Belle completely, and in the silence of that cowardice, he understood with cold clarity that he had not only lost Isolde—he had forged her into something merciless and untouchable.
Beatrice smiled. It was a terrifying sight.
“It appears the journalists were mistaken,” she noted coldly.
She turned her head and looked at Isolde, her tone shifting to one of quiet, respectful inquiry. “Isolde,” she said. “You have always had a keen mind for our investments. What is your professional assessment of Miss Escobar’s technical capabilities p>
The entire room held its breath.
Beatrice was handing Isolde the executioner’s axe.
о𝗿𝗴а𝘯𝗶𝗓𝘦 𝘺о𝘶𝗿 𝗹𝘪b𝗿𝘢𝘳𝘆 𝗼ո 𝗀а𝗹ոо𝘷e𝗅ѕ.c𝘰𝗺
Isolde picked up her linen napkin and dabbed the corner of her mouth with unhurried elegance. She placed it back on her lap and looked down the long table at Belle. Because of the NDA, she could not mention the affair. She could not mention the stolen designs. She did not need to.
“The InnoTech propulsion model is fundamentally archaic,” she stated, her voice calm, authoritative, and devastatingly precise. “Miss Escobar failed to account for the non-linear drag coefficients in the upper atmosphere. Her entire business model relies on a structural integrity that simply does not exist in her schematics p>
She paused, allowing the heavy silence to amplify every word.
“In my professional opinion,” Isolde concluded, her eyes settling on Belle’s terrified face, “Miss Escobar possesses a certain talent for aggressive marketing. But placing her in charge of core engineering is a catastrophic misallocation of resources. She is a public relations liability masquerading as a technical officer p>