Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 72

Isadora, it seemed, was no fool.

On the contrary, she understood business operations better than most of them.

Valery, on the other hand, had just been called out by Isadora in front of everyone. Her face flushed an ugly shade of purple, the kind that only comes from stifled humiliation.

Valery wasn't just some ordinary employee-she was a senior figure, one of the founding members of the Vaughan Group. Isadora, who hadn't even been in the business as long as Valery had been alive, actually had the nerve to question her competence.

Valery's brows knit together, her voice tight with anger.

"Ms. Vaughan, what makes you so sure we haven't made an effort? If every store performed this poorly and we bailed them out each time, do you think the mall would survive? Why don't you stick to shuffling papers in your office and leave the on-the-ground management to those of us who've been around a while?"

Her words were a not-so-subtle dig, implying that Isadora was just an armchair executive with no real experience, and she ought to stop meddling.

Isadora gave a cold, dismissive laugh, her gaze sweeping over Valery with icy indifference.

replied. "In that case, Director Valery, please prepare a detailed spreadsheet of this year's promotional activities and exactly which

it was Valery's turn to be

hadn't been for several years running. All the coveted slots for special promotions had gone to brands who'd slipped her a little something extra under the

was targeting her, and she wasn't even

Isadora become the new master of the Vaughan

that, Isadora didn't spare her another glance. She headed off with the other managers

as alert and careful as before. No one dared try to gloss things over after seeing how

Footwear. It's a luxury brand from Northmarch; all their shoes are custom-designed and have become a favorite among the city's socialites. They're one

it as she walked, eyes

out from one of the stores. "Isadora! Get in here,

looked up. An elderly woman stood framed in the boutique's entrance, dressed in a tailored rose-colored velvet dress, large floral patterns swirling across the fabric. On

was none other than

out sounded less like a greeting, and more like a mistress