Chapter 88 Crazy Madness
Scarlett's fork froze midair as she shot Cleo a look. "What are you even talking about?"
"I'm telling you—you've got this glow going on. Like you've got a boyfriend or something." Cleo's gaze swept over her face with absolute certainty.
"You know exactly what my situation is right now." Scarlett picked up her utensils with studied casualness, spearing a piece of fish and transferring it to her plate before focusing intently on her meal.
Watching Scarlett's relaxed demeanor, Cleo dropped her interrogation.
Scarlett delicately removed a fishbone and set it on the side plate, her lips curving into a smile. "After leaving the Ross Group, I'm stress-free. Of course, I feel better."
"True that. Not having to deal with those insufferable jerks every day does wonders for your mood." Suddenly, Cleo's eyes lit up. "Oh! Bianca quit."
Wesley had already tried using Bianca's departure from the Ross Group as bait to trick Scarlett into giving up her shares. The news didn't surprise her in the slightest.
"You're not even shocked," Cleo observed.
"People leave companies like the Ross Group all the time. What's so unusual about that?" Scarlett's expression remained perfectly neutral.
"Sure, but Bianca was sleeping with Mr. Ross. For that kind of relationship to end in her leaving? She obviously got dumped. Though honestly, given Bianca's skill level, making her design department manager was Mr. Ross's most irrational decision yet." Cleo's tone dripped with contempt. She added, "With the Powell family's precious daughter in the picture, Bianca was always going to get the boot eventually."
"Did they hire a new manager?" Scarlett steered away from the topic—she genuinely couldn't care less about their personal drama.
"Nope. The design department's a total mess right now. They've lost a ton of contracts lately. The whole company looks ready to collapse, honestly. I'm planning to resign too." Cleo sighed.
Scarlett glanced at her friend. Meeting her gaze, Cleo continued, "Truth is, I've been thinking about leaving since you did. Seeing the Ross Group like this now? I should probably get out sooner rather than later."
"The Ross Group definitely has no future." Scarlett nodded in agreement.
"Scarlett, have you ever thought about starting your own company?" Cleo finished her soup and looked up.
The thought had crossed Scarlett's mind, but with the deal with Ambrose still pending, she simply didn't have the bandwidth.
"With your connections, your own firm could easily rival the Ross Group." Cleo pressed on persuasively.
Scarlett set down her utensils and met her friend's eyes seriously. "I have thought about it, but not right now. I need to finish what I'm working on first before I can free up the time."
"What are you working on?" Cleo asked curiously.
"A project."
"What kind of project?" Surprise colored Cleo's voice.
Scarlett pursed her lips, hesitating for a few seconds. "I promised confidentiality, so I can't say anything yet. When the timing's right, I'll fill you in."
Seeing her reluctance, Cleo let it go with a sigh. "Scarlett, that's actually why I wanted to have lunch today—to talk about starting a company. Think about it: we're working for other people, making peanuts. We've got design skills. Why not open our own design firm? With our combined abilities, we'd have no shortage of clients. But now you're tied up with something, and who knows how long we'll have to wait."
Watching Cleo's disappointed expression, Scarlett fell silent for a moment before asking, "Starting a company requires capital. How much do you have?"
"I can invest about a hundred thousand dollars," Cleo replied.
"I don't have much either. It probably won't be enough to launch properly. Once I wrap up what I'm doing and I'm more financially comfortable, that would be a better time to start a company."
Cleo saw the logic. "Alright, we'll wait a bit longer. But we can start researching all the preliminary work. There are tons of procedures involved in starting a business."
Over lunch, they'd at least sketched out a business plan. Though nothing concrete had materialized, it gave them something to look forward to.
After finishing their meal, both women rose from the table. They'd barely taken a few steps when they ran straight into Ulysses. Spotting Scarlett, he blocked her path.
"What a coincidence. We meet again." Ulysses smiled at her, but his eyes were ice-cold.
One look at Ulysses brought back memories of that night. Scarlett's gaze hardened several degrees.
"Move."
Ulysses didn't budge. He simply adjusted his glasses, his smile taking on an unsettling quality.
"So you turned me down to go work for Ambrose instead. Scarlett, you missed an opportunity to save your father."
She turned her head, fixing him with a frigid stare.
At the Four Seasons Hotel last time, he'd claimed to have evidence that could save Owen. She hadn't taken it seriously then. Now he was bringing it up again—was he trying to manipulate her with this tactic?
"Mr. Mitchell, do I look like an idiot to you?" Scarlett's voice was laced with mockery.
Ulysses's smile turned sinister and disturbing. He leaned close to her ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your father's imprisonment—the Reynolds family orchestrated that. But do you know who gave the Reynolds family their evidence?"
"The Mitchell family provided it. So tell me—don't I have proof?"
Scarlett stood motionless, her head tilted as she stared at him intently, trying to see past his glasses into his eyes, to figure out what game he was playing.
Meeting her gaze, Ulysses straightened and resumed his refined demeanor. "I know you don't believe me," he said coolly. "But someday, you will."
With that, he strode away.
Scarlett watched his retreating figure, her brow furrowing. What was Ulysses playing at? Or did he actually possess evidence?
Her mind began retracing the past. Owen's imprisonment—that had indeed been the Reynolds family's doing. But she'd never known where they'd obtained their evidence.
Could Ulysses's claim that the Mitchell family provided it be true?
Even if it were, why would Ulysses help an outsider destroy everything the Mitchell family had worked so hard to achieve?
"Scarlett, you know the Mitchell Group's CEO?" Cleo quickly looped her arm through Scarlett's once Ulysses had left.
Scarlett snapped back to the present. "We've met."
But that interaction looked like way more than a casual acquaintance. And he'd mentioned Ambrose too. What kind of entanglement did Scarlett have with these people?
Scarlett pulled her toward the exit. "Let's go."
"What did he mean just now? I thought Ambrose blacklisted you?" Cleo asked quietly as they walked side by side.
"It's complicated. When the time's right, I'll explain everything." Scarlett didn't want to reveal her work at the Boleyn Group yet, afraid word might leak and sabotage the situation.
Being perceptive, Cleo dropped the subject. The two women left the restaurant together.
But Scarlett's composure had been shaken. That evening, she dialed a number. When the call connected, she said, "Hello, this is Scarlett. I'd like to arrange a visit with my father."
"Ms. Mellon, I'll make the arrangements. Please be patient." A man's emotionless voice came through the line.
"Thank you."
After hanging up, Scarlett stood by the window, gripping her phone, staring out at the ink-dark night sky. Her eyes were shadowed and unreadable.