Chapter 52

Chapter 52

"Hello, Ms. Taylor."

The murmuring in the conference room gradually died down, and everyone's eyes fell on Isabella in unison, filled with curiosity and scrutiny.

The woman didn't stand up. She looked up with a stern gaze, sizing Isabella up and down. After a moment, she said, "Ms. Taylor, my name is Rainey Ward. You can call me Ms. Ward."

She didn't even bother to stand, just gave a brief introduction, her eyes carrying a hint of contempt as she looked Isabella over.

She clearly looked down on Isabella a bit.

Isabella didn't seem to care. She sat down on a nearby chair and nodded as a response. Her attitude angered everyone in the conference room.

"Ms. Taylor, shouldn't you at least explain the leaked design?"

Rainey's face darkened, her eyes cold and sharp.

"We trusted your design skills, which is why we put such an important project in your hands. But who knows what Ms. Taylor was thinking, leaking her own design."

She leaned forward, not hiding her intimidating presence at all, staring at Isabella and speaking word by word.

"I'm really curious, Ms. Taylor, why would you do this? Once you finish this design, you'll naturally have chances to become famous. Why be in such a hurry?"

Rainey's words lit a fire among the people in the conference room. Anger appeared on their faces, and a few voices, neither too loud nor too soft, began mocking Isabella.

These people had been working overtime for months on this haute couture theme. Success was right in front of them, but then someone blocked their light. How could they not be angry?

Facing everyone's angry stares, Isabella remained calm, looking up at Rainey with composure.

"Ms. Ward, do you have solid evidence? Are you that certain I'm the one who leaked it? Like you said, what would I gain from leaking my own design?"

Rainey was stunned, seemingly not expecting her to question back. She mistook Isabella's response as avoiding the issue, and the contempt in her eyes deepened as she threw the documents on the table directly in front of Isabella.

The documents landed on the table. "You submitted the final draft yourself. Apart from Daphne, your project partner, me, and a few executives in the company, no one else has access. The login records also show that only you logged into your own account. If not you, then who?"

Rainey crossed her arms and sat back down, her tone sharp.

"Do you have any explanation, Ms. Taylor?"

There was a hint of mockery in her tone. Isabella pushed the documents in front of her.

"Ms. Ward, didn't you just say I'm not the only one who could see the final draft? There's you, the company executives, and Daphne. So many people had access. Why are you so sure it was me?"

Her tone was frighteningly calm, her eyes deep and intelligent, as if she could see through everything. Meeting her indifferent gaze, Rainey's accusations suddenly caught in her throat.

The conference room fell into dead silence. Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and Daphne hurried in, holding a stack of documents.

"I just had a meeting with the PR department. Sorry, I'm late."

As soon as she appeared, Rainey's expression softened for a moment. She snorted coldly.

"Ms. Taylor refuses to admit this is her problem. Daphne, you handle it yourself."

Seeing this, Daphne looked at Isabella beside her, frowned, then let out a deep sigh. She distributed the documents in her hand and spoke earnestly.

"Isabella." She suddenly switched to calling her Isabella. "I want to believe you didn't leak the final draft, but all this evidence points to you. Everyone in this conference room has been working on this haute couture design for almost three months. We were so close to success, and now we're back to square one."

Daphne smiled, her face warm and her tone gentle, yet every word pushed Isabella forward as the biggest villain in front of everyone.

Sure enough, as soon as she said this, the faces of everyone in the conference room changed again, glaring at Isabella with resentment.

"Isabella, I know you're under a lot of pressure right now. How about this—I'll have the PR department write an apology in your voice and release it. If you admit your mistake voluntarily, we can go easy on you. Don't worry, I'll talk to the company and try not to hold you responsible, okay?"

Daphne was quite understanding. She walked over to Isabella, patted her shoulder, her face showing just the right amount of concern.

"So many people are waiting to resolve this. You can't hold everyone up. The final draft was in your hands. The executives in our company didn't even have time to look at it. Maybe you accidentally leaked it—that's fine too. I'll put in a good word for you and minimize the impact."

With just a few light words, Daphne firmly pinned all the suspicion on Isabella, speaking in a gentle and considerate manner.

Isabella suddenly laughed. Her laughter was jarring in the silent conference room. Rainey, sitting across from her, turned red with anger, wishing she could slap the documents in Isabella's face.

Isabella slowly stood up and looked directly at Daphne, her eyes calm and emotionless, but her words made Daphne's heart skip a beat.

"Then who logged into my account before submitting the final draft last night? Wasn't it you?"

As the words fell, the conference room suddenly fell into dead silence. Everyone had different thoughts. A few quick-witted people already had a guess. Rainey also sensed something was wrong and immediately sat up straight.

Daphne's heart sank. The smile on her face became strained. She gripped the documents in her hand tightly, her fingertips turning slightly white, forcing herself to stay calm.

"Logged into your account? What are you talking about? I don't understand."

Her eyes darted around, her whole body tense, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear to cover her panic.

Isabella raised an eyebrow and opened her laptop, projecting the evidence she had already prepared onto the conference room screen.

"I did log into my account yesterday as you arranged and submitted my final draft. But after submitting, I suddenly had something come up and forgot to log out. Then I saw something surprising."

She moved the mouse to display the unusual login record from last night. The login location and device information were all clear. The mouse pointed to a string of numbers next to the login address.

"I specifically called your company today to ask about this string of numbers. Your employee told me this number is your computer ID."