Chapter 40
Cressida pushed open the door, her eyes landing on Chairman Dawson, sitting on the sofa with a neutral expression, facing the entrance. With Amabel beside him, her legs crossed and hands folded across her chest, her right foot tapping out a slow rhythm.
The creak of the door announced Cressida’s arrival, and Amabel's gaze flicked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tracked Cressida’s approach.
“Why have you decided to starve us?” Chairman Dawson’s question hung in the air, his voice low and even. Though his eyes remained fixed on some point ahead.
Cressida’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Hun?” She replied, her tone questioning.
Chairman Dawson’s gaze finally lifted to meet hers, his expression unchanging. “I’ve been informed you’ve forbidden the maids from preparing meals without your authorization.” He explained.
“Yes, sir,” Cressida confirmed, her face cast downward, bracing herself for a scolding. The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with expectation. Cressida sensed the chairman’s unspoken demand for an explanation and prepared to offer one. “Actually, sir—”
Chairman Dawson cut her off, his voice firm. “I’m not asking for an explanation.”
Amabel’s eyes widened in shock, and she turned to the chairman, her foot dropping to the floor. “You-” she opened her mouth to protest, but the chairman’s sharp gaze silenced her.
“Did I ask you to speak?” He snapped, and Amabel instantly subsided, her eyes flashing with anger.
Her gaze drifted to Cressida, and her expression darkened as she took in the faint smile playing on Cressida’s lips. Her hands clenched into fists, her teeth grinding in frustration.
She couldn't bear the smug look on Cressida’s face and sprang to her feet. Her heels clicked loudly as she stormed across the room, yanking open the door to her bedroom before slamming it shut behind her.
Chairman Dawson glanced over his shoulder, waiting for the door’s slam to fade into silence before turning back to Cressida. His gaze locked onto hers, his expression unreadable. “I’m not questioning your authority,” he stated calmly. “I don’t care about the power dynamics under this roof, as long as they don’t affect mine,”
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m impressed by how you’ve asserted yourself, and I understand the situation. But you should have instructed the maids to prepare breakfast before you left the house,”
“Everyone doesn’t have to suffer the consequences of an individual’s action.” He made a point.
Cressida’s neck bent slightly, her hands clasped together between her thighs. “I’m sorry, sir…” she apologized. She raised her head, adding, “I’ll go to the kitchen now and prepare something for you, sir.”
Before she turned in the kitchen direction, Chairman Dawson’s voice stopped her.
“It’s too late for that.”
Cressida turned back to him, her face apologetic. “I’m sorry, sir,” she repeated, wondering if his anger was affecting his appetite.
Chairman Dawson shited forward on the sofa, reaching for the file on the table before him. He handed it to Cressida, his expression serious. “Collect,” he ordered.
As she took the file, he explained, “this is a proposal for a contract you’ll be defending in a week. That project will be one of the major breakthrough for the organization, so you must do everything in your power to secure it,”
Chairman Dawson stood up, releasing a soft sigh as he walked toward the door while Cressida’s eyes followed him, her mouth agape, clutching the file tightly with both hands.
She watched in stunned silence as he reached the entrance, his hand grasping the door lever. Without looking back, he declared, “no one will accompany you—not Alaric, nor his assistant.”
The door swung open, and Chairman Dawson walked out calmly, leaving Cressida staring after him.
Her gaze lingered on the door for nearly a minute, her mind reeling with surprise and confusion.
What’s going on? This feels like a setup. Why would he suddenly task her with defending a contract and insist she go alone?
Cressida’s thoughts swirled as she finally tore her gaze away from the door. With a sense of urgency, she hurried into her room, slamming the door behind her.
She burst into the room, eager to share the news. “You—” she began, but her words caught in her throat as she realized Alaric wasn’t there.
The sound of running water in the restroom caught her attention, and she sat down on the edge of the bed, her nerves on edge, unable to shake off the feeling of unease, no matter how hard she tried.
Alaric emerged from the restroom, a smile spreading across his face as he saw Cressida. “You’re back…” he uttered, his eyes lighting up with excitement, but Cressida’s urgent tone cut him off.
“I think there’s a problem!” She exclaimed, springing to her feet.
Alaric’s eyes narrowed. “A problem?” He repeated, his brow furrowing with concern.
Cressida nodded jerkily, rushing toward him as he moved to meet her halfway. The distance between them seemed to stretch on forever, Alaric’s worry growing with every step.
As they finally stood face-to-face, he snatched the file from her outstretched hand. But before he could open it, his gaze locked onto her face, his voice filled with concern. “What happened?”
Cressida’s silence heightened his worry. He lowered his gaze to the file, his hands shaking slightly as he opened the cover. His restlessness caused the pages to rustle, and before he could steady himself, the file slipped from his grasp.
It fell to the floor, and he bent to retrieve it, but her hand beat him to it. She handed the file back to him, explaining, “It’s a proposal for a contract, and the chairman wants me to defend it instead of him.”
Alaric’s eyes snapped up, surprise etched on his face.
“What is it?” Cressida asked, her curiosity piqued.
Alaric placed a hand on his chest, exhaling a sigh of relief. “You scared me,” he admitted, offering a reassuring smile. “Defending a contract is no big deal. He’s probably just testing your abilities. Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out. You can do it. Trust me.”
Cressida remained silent, her gaze fixed on Alaric as he returned his attention to the file.
As he flipped through the pages, his expression transformed from calm to concern. His eyes widened, and he snickered softly. “What’s this old man thinking?” He muttered.
“What happened?” She asked, her brow furrowed. “Didn’t you just said it’s not a big deal?”
Alaric looked up, his expression serious. “Yes, I said it wasn’t a big deal, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “This proposal is incomplete. It’s missing crucial information. For him to put you in charge of this... something’s definitely gone wrong.”
“What?!” Cressida exclaimed.
Alaric nodded grimly. “Yes, that’s exactly what's happening,” he confirmed, explaining, “we’ve got no chance of winning, so he's passing the buck to you. He’ll use you as a scapegoat and make you take credit for the failure.”
Cressida’s expression turned incredulous as she scoffed. She wrapped her arms around her waist, taking slow steps backward until she felt the bed frame behind her. She sank into it, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought as much... This is a setup.”
Alaric nodded in agreement. “Yes, it is.”
The room fell silent, with Cressida’s mind reeling in confusion and Alaric’s racing with thoughts of a way out. After a minute of intense contemplation, Alaric shook his head firmly. “No.” He said, his voice rising.
Cressida looked up at him, and Alaric’s gaze locked onto hers, his head still shaking. “We can’t risk it. You’ve got no chance of winning, so you can’t take charge of this.”
Her eyes searched his face as she asked. “So, what’s the way forward? Is there anything we can do to get out of this?”