Chapter 108
At those words, Charlotte's expression darkened immediately.
By now, if she still couldn't see this was a trap, she'd have to be completely blind.
And it was a vicious one. Before Nora was transferred out, she had deliberately left the project handover unfinished.
Carl and the others had quietly agreed to let the project slip through the cracks, then just sat back and waited for something to go wrong.
The worker's death might have been an accident, but this setup had been arranged in advance.
If nothing went wrong, they'd never need to play this card.
But the moment something did, the blame would land squarely on Charlotte.
While Charlotte's face was still dark with anger, Mr. Moreland spoke again.
His voice was low and flat. It was an ultimatum.
"The media is already camped outside the site. The victim's family is furious. If this blows up, not only will this project get shut down — it'll drag our other projects down with it."
"I'm not interested in figuring out whose fault this is right now. You're sitting in that director's chair, so you're the one who's going to fix it."
"If you can't handle it, pack your things and go. The Langley Group doesn't carry dead weight."
The office went completely silent. Charlotte's fingers tightened slowly around the file, her knuckles going white from the pressure.
But she knew there was nothing useful she could say right now.
Mr. Moreland wasn't looking for an explanation. He wanted a scapegoat — someone to absorb the fallout.
After a long moment, Charlotte took a slow, deep breath and let out a single word.
"Fine."
She looked up and met Mr. Moreland's cold gaze without a flicker of panic.
"I'll go deal with it now."
"But Mr. Moreland — I will be investigating where the responsibility actually lies."
"The people who are truly at fault cannot be allowed to walk away clean."
She didn't wait for a response. She turned and walked out.
In the elevator, after Charlotte filled her in, Mireille's eyes were already turning red.
"Ms. Johnson, are you really going? This is clearly a trap they set for you."
Charlotte gave a faint smile at that — though if you looked closely, it never quite reached her eyes.
"It's fine. Isn't this exactly what they wanted?"
"Get the legal team to pull together the relevant workers' compensation terms."
"And send me everything on the Lakeside Estates project — from the initial proposal to now. Contractor qualifications, supervision reports, safety inspection records. All of it. I'll need it."
"Yes, Ms. Johnson." Mireille nodded, her expression serious.
......
Half an hour later, the Lakeside Estates construction site on the west side of the city was already in chaos.
Outside the perimeter tape, a crowd of reporters had gathered with cameras and microphones, flashbulbs firing nonstop at a group of workers in their site gear.
The workers were shoving back and forth with the security guards. Somewhere nearby, a woman was screaming — raw, heartbroken cries that cut right through everyone there.
When Charlotte's car pulled up, a few sharp-eyed reporters spotted it immediately.
"Someone from the Langley Group is here!"
"Who's in the car? Is that the project manager?"
"Come on, move — get there first!"
The door hadn't even fully opened before dozens of microphones were thrust toward Charlotte's face, every reporter's eyes lit up with that particular hunger.
"Are you the Langley Group's representative? What does your company have to say about this serious workplace accident?"
"Workers on site say there have been safety hazards here for a long time with little oversight. Can you confirm that?"
"The victim's family says the company cut corners on safety equipment to meet deadlines, and that this was a direct cause of the accident. As the newly appointed investment director, do you take responsibility for that?"
The questions came one after another, each one sharper than the last.
Every single one was aimed straight at the same two targets: negligence and indifference.
Charlotte stood in the middle of the crowd, slight in frame, her face a little pale under the flashing cameras — but completely calm.
She raised one hand.
The noise died down almost instantly. Every eye locked onto her, unblinking.
"My name is Charlotte Johnson, Investment Director of the Langley Group." Her voice came through a small amplifier, steady and clear. "First, on behalf of the Langley Group, I want to express our deepest condolences to the worker who lost his life in this accident — and our sincere sympathy to his family."
She bowed deeply.
"In response to the questions raised, I can make the following commitments."
"First, the Langley Group will not dodge any responsibility. Under the supervision of the relevant government authorities, we will form a dedicated investigation team to get to the bottom of what caused this accident — whether it was an equipment failure or a management lapse. We will have a full answer for the victim's family and the public."
"Second, we will initiate our highest-level workers' compensation process. We will do everything we can to support the family and take care of everything that follows."
"Third, effective immediately, all work on the Lakeside Estates project is suspended for a full safety review. We will not resume operations until every issue has been properly addressed and certified by an independent third-party authority."
Charlotte was clear, composed, and took none of it as a chance to deflect. Several reporters who had arrived ready to push hard gradually settled down.
Just when Charlotte thought she had things under control — something went wrong.
"You heartless woman — give me back my son!"
From somewhere in the crowd, a white-haired woman with tears streaked down her face suddenly broke free from the people holding her back. She was swinging a masonry trowel she'd picked up from somewhere, and she was charging straight at Charlotte with the look of someone who had nothing left to lose.
Her eyes were wild with grief and desperation. The trowel cut a dangerous arc through the air.
"Ms. Johnson, watch out!" Mireille screamed.
The reporters stumbled backward in a panic, nobody wanting to get caught in the middle.
Charlotte watched the trowel coming down, her pupils snapping tight, her heart lurching into her throat. She was already twisting to dodge —
But when the trowel was less than half a meter away, a dark figure appeared out of nowhere.
A dull thud.
The figure moved with precision — one hand knocked the trowel aside, the other caught the woman's wrist and twisted.
The trowel clattered to the ground.
It all happened in the span of a single heartbeat, too fast for anyone to react.