Chapter 5
James's fingers clenched the pen tightly.
In less than a month, she'd vanished and come back like a completely different person.
Facing James's gaze that seemed ready to devour her, Isabella stayed utterly calm.
"Mr. Sinclair, it's an honor. I'm Isabella Tudor, chief design director at Northstar Architecture. I'll be presenting our proposal in depth to your company today."
The conference room lights dimmed. The projector's cool beam hit the screen.
Isabella held the laser pointer. The red dot landed precisely on the intricate architectural blueprints.
"Please take a look, everyone. For the Amber District multinational commercial arts complex project, Northstar Architecture's core concept is the 'symbiotic flow.' We've broken away from the rigid grid layouts of traditional commercial spaces. On the west side, we've made minor adjustments to the load-bearing structure to introduce a sunken outdoor exhibition area..."
"Ms. Tudor's plan is truly impressive."
After the presentation, during Q&A, several executives from the Amber District branch fired off sharp questions about engineering structures and cost calculations.
Isabella didn't flinch. She answered fluidly, earning nods even from the pickiest veterans.
Just as the mood warmed up, a woman to James's right spoke softly. "Isabella—no, Ms. Tudor."
Charlotte wore a demure Chanel suit today. She'd been invited as the Sinclair Family's private art consultant.
"Your blueprints are beautifully drawn, full of artistic flair. But as a commercial space, won't this massive sunken outdoor plaza sacrifice too much prime retail footage for profit?"
"You've been out of the workforce for six years. Are you still viewing the current commercial landscape through too idealistic a lens?"
The room's atmosphere shifted subtly.
James's brow furrowed slightly. He didn't interrupt, as if waiting for Isabella's response.
Isabella met Charlotte's eyes. A fleeting smirk crossed her lips.
"Ms. Johnson's concern is valid. Anyone who only understands 2D floor plans would typically worry about that."
"Please look at the financial model on the big screen. With this sunken plaza and the flow-optimizing escalators, we've turned dead zones on the second and third floors into prime display spots."
"Overall store visibility jumps by a full 40 percent."
She leaned on the podium, looking down at Charlotte. "In this era where experience rules, that 40% visibility boost means brand premiums and rent hikes worth five times the lost square footage."
"Ms. Johnson, if you're not up on architectural finance basics, I suggest reviewing the appendix data before speaking next time."
Charlotte's smile froze. Her face flushed, then paled.
She didn't know design at all. She'd just wanted to undermine Isabella. Now, her ignorance was exposed in front of everyone.
"James." Before James could respond, Joshua Thomas, the Amber District partner to his left, slammed down his pen.
"We're evaluating a multibillion-dollar project here. The so-called art consultant you brought in can't even grasp basic sales-per-square-foot logic and wastes our time?"
"If you're mixing favors with professionalism, I need to rethink my branch's investment in this."
Joshua always prioritized profit. He spoke without mercy.
Humiliated publicly, Charlotte's eyes welled up. "James, I just thought..."
James cut her off in a low voice. His sharp brows shadowed with gloom.
He turned to Joshua. His tone deepened. "Mr. Thomas, that was a misstep. It won't happen again."
After the meeting, Isabella headed to the restroom on the same floor.
She'd just washed her hands and was drying them with a paper towel when heels clicked behind her.
"Isabella, don't think showing off in that boardroom changes a thing."
Charlotte approached the sink. She deliberately raised her wrist, flashing a dazzling custom pink diamond bracelet.
In the mirror, she eyed Isabella, her tone laced with smugness.
"This bracelet? James flew to the source two days ago and bid two million bucks on it for me at auction. He even said Jasper's about to start calling me Mom."
Isabella tossed the damp towel precisely into the trash. She turned slightly and let out a soft scoff.
"Charlotte, did you dig that superiority complex out of the dumpster?"
Isabella stepped closer. Her gaze held a lofty pity.
"A two-million-dollar chain makes you strut like you've got a golden ticket? If James loved you that much, he wouldn't have married me six years ago."
"The Mrs. Sinclair spot? I ditched it because it felt dirty and nauseating. You want it? Kneel and scrub it clean. Don't get in my way."
"You—!"
Isabella didn't spare her another glance. She smoothed her suit jacket and strode out.
Unbeknownst to her, the clients had just witnessed the exchange.
At the corridor's end, James stood quietly in the turn.
He held an unlit cigarette between his fingers. His stare fixed on Isabella's retreating figure.
"James." Arms wrapped anxiously around his waist from behind.
James stayed silent.
His eyes remained locked on the spot where she'd vanished. His Adam's apple bobbed.
Charlotte waited seconds for a reply. "James, what are you looking at?"
James snapped back. He glanced at the hands on his waist, his brow twitching faintly.
He didn't answer. He pocketed the unlit smoke. "Let's go. This isn't the place to talk."
He pried her hands away and headed for the elevator in long strides.
Charlotte froze. Her nails dug into her palms.
That night, in Novaria at Sinclair Villa.
James got home near ten.
Jasper sat cross-legged on his bed in dinosaur pajamas. He watched cartoons on his tablet, munching half a cookie.
"So late and still up?" James took the tablet away.
"Dad!" Jasper reached for it, annoyed. "Five more minutes!"
James ignored him. He set the tablet on the cabinet and sat on the bed's edge.
He paused. Then asked, "Jasper, have you called Mom lately?"
Jasper halted mid-chew. Cookie crumbs fell. He brushed them off his pajamas, mumbling irritably. "Yeah."
"What'd she say?"
"Not much to say." Jasper hung his head, brushing cookie crumbs off his pajamas with an irritable tone. "I called several times but no one answered. They're probably busy."
No answer.
James's eyes darkened.
He left Jasper's room and entered his own bedroom. He shut the door.
He sat on the bed for a long while. Finally, he pulled out his phone and scrolled to Isabella's number.
He stared at it for ten seconds. His thumb pressed the call.
The line went dead. Hung up.
James's gaze grew stormier.
The old Isabella kept her phone on 24/7. She'd pick up his calls in a heartbeat, desperate not to miss a word.
Now, she wouldn't even connect.