Chapter 112: Foolish Armand

Chapter 112: Foolish Armand

This guy had a silver tongue and could talk his way through anything.

As he spoke, he kept a close eye on Isabelle's reaction.

That was his specialty.

He had a whole playbook: use the right words to make his boss feel appreciated, then read the room to figure out what else needed to be said.

"Protecting the company's interests? Armand, how noble of you. Selfless employees like you are a dying breed."

Isabelle's face was stone cold. She said it through clenched teeth, her expression tight. But anyone could tell she was being sarcastic.

Seeing that his apologies and soft words weren't working, Armand started to panic.

This approach had never failed him before.

It was exactly this kind of flattery that had gotten him promoted so fast.

But that same success had made him arrogant and lazy.

He wasn't stupid, though.

The moment he caught Isabelle's sarcasm, his stomach dropped. He knew right away that his usual tricks weren't going to cut it.

He needed to change tactics, fast.

He took a breath, then plastered on a smile.

"Ms. Isabelle, has someone been bad-mouthing me? I honestly have no idea who your VIP guest is. Could it be Mr. Fasiri here?"

"He runs a farm, raises a whole herd of dairy cows, very profitable. He's looking to buy property with us."

"And this distinguished gentleman, Mr. Olirei — he's a top sales king in the home appliance industry..."

Armand kept going, pointing out one person after another.

In his mind, the VIP had to be one of these potential buyers.

But then he noticed something odd — Isabelle hadn't glanced at any of them.

That threw him completely.

He stood there, at a loss for what to do next.

Then he caught Isabelle's gaze drifting toward Anthony, who was standing not far away. It nearly made him burst out laughing.

"Wait — Ms. Isabelle, you don't mean him, do you? Ha!"

Armand actually laughed out loud. "Ms. Isabelle, you don't know this, but he's the black sheep of the Bruce family. That's Anthony — just got out after three years in prison."

He'd let himself go a little wild just then, mainly because he was dead certain that a freshly released ex-con couldn't possibly be Isabelle's VIP guest.

"Ha, Ms. Isabelle, the three people I pointed out earlier — they're all potential clients for us. Real purchasing power. Any one of them could write a check for a property today."

"But him? He's a convicted criminal who just walked out of prison, and there are questions about where his money even comes from."

"If he's really Ms. Isabelle's VIP guest, I'll eat my words..."

Before he could finish — smack.

Someone got slapped hard, right there in front of everyone. It stunned the whole room.

When people looked over, they saw that Isabelle — who had just arrived — had slapped Armand clean across the face.

"What just happened? Why did Ms. Isabelle just slap the sales manager?"

"I have no idea either."

The clients who had come to look at properties started murmuring in shock.

"I get that Armand may have offended Ms. Isabelle's guest, but a public slap? That seems like a lot."

"He's still the head of this sales center."

"Exactly. After being slapped in front of everyone, how is he supposed to manage his team with any authority?"

The buyers were completely bewildered.

But by then, Isabelle — barely in her twenties — was already speaking through barely controlled anger.

"Armand, you've got some nerve. You stood right in front of me and mocked my guest."

"What? He — he's really your — VIP guest?"

Armand stood there holding his burning cheek, feeling sorry for himself. Only now did it sink in how badly he'd misjudged the situation.

He had been so sure, no matter what, that Anthony couldn't possibly be Isabelle's VIP. Turned out he couldn't have been more wrong. He'd walked right into it.

"But Ms. Isabelle... him, your VIP guest? How is that possible?"

"Not possible?"

Isabelle snapped back: "You shallow, judgmental fool. What made you so sure he wasn't my guest?"

"Let me be very clear — Mr. Bruce is my guest."

"I came to check on how things were running here. I hadn't even made it through the door when I saw you giving my guest a hard time. You've got some real nerve..."

"Wait — Isabelle, you've been here this whole time? How did I not know?"

Armand went pale.

If Isabelle had been standing outside for a while without coming in, she had probably watched the whole thing play out.

Everything he'd done to Anthony — she'd seen all of it. He had just kicked a hornet's nest, and now he was drowning in regret.

He raised his hand and slapped himself across the face. Twice.

"Ms. Isabelle, I was blind. I had no idea Mr. Bruce was your guest."

He kept apologizing and slapping himself.

He did it because he knew how Isabelle operated — decisive, zero tolerance, no room for excuses.

He'd insulted her guest. If she didn't see genuine remorse, she'd come down on him even harder.

Terrified of being fired, he kept hitting himself.

"Ms. Isabelle, I had no right to judge people like that, to look down on someone just because of where they came from..."

But the more he said, the more hollow it sounded.

At the end of the day, he had offended Isabelle's guest. The problem was finding a way to spin it, to shift the blame, and leave Isabelle with nothing to hold over him.

His eyes darted around — and landed on Rihanna standing nearby.

Right. His old ally and bed partner.

She'd make the perfect scapegoat.

It would cost her, sure. But the sales center was never short on young, pretty girls. They cycled through like models at a fashion show. Lose one Rihanna, and ten more would show up. As long as he kept his sales manager title, women would never be hard to come by.

What Rihanna never saw coming was that the man she'd relied on as her biggest protector was now figuring out exactly how to throw her under the bus.

"Ms. Isabelle, I have something to say!"

Armand shouted suddenly, pulling everyone's attention to him.

A second later, his finger was pointing straight at Rihanna.

"Ms. Isabelle, you see her? She's the one who misled me. Everything that just happened — it's all Rihanna's fault."

Being called out in front of everyone was bad enough. Being called out by the person she'd trusted most was something else entirely. Rihanna was completely blindsided.

In that moment, it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. She was cold all the way through.

She almost couldn't process what was happening.

Was this really the same man who had whispered sweet nothings to her in bed? The moment things went sideways, he kicked her out without a second's hesitation...