Chapter 601:
On the top floor, Zuri opened the door to the grand meeting room. The place was completely empty. Not a soul inside.
Rylie checked her watch. Less than ten minutes until the meeting began. Exactly as she expected. They wanted to make her feel small. But she didn’t flinch. She walked to the head of the table and sat down.
This meeting wasn’t just about reports. It was about testing the waters. Who would stand with her? Who would need to be cut loose?
By refusing to attend, they thought they were putting her in her place. But in the end, who would bow to whom? Time would tell.
After another round of reminders from Zuri, fewer than ten people trickled in. Most were middle managers with shifty eyes — obvious stand-ins, sent as cannon fodder.
The real seats of power — Laurel, the Garrett family members, and their allies — remained empty.
A few minor supervisors from the Garrett family factions, thinking they were safe in the corners, whispered among themselves, their voices just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Hah, she thinks a tiny bit of authority makes her a queen? Holding a meeting here of all places? Does she think she’s worthy?”
“Watch and see. With the vice president absent, she’ll be the only leader at the table. That’s a heavy crown for someone like her.”
“What does a country girl know about management? Or fashion? She’s bound to make a fool of herself.”
“I heard she came from nothing. The fact she’s here at all is a miracle. And now she dares to dream of running the company? Ridiculous.”
At the head of the table, Rylie sat with perfect composure. She ignored the chatter, her fingertips gliding lightly across the glossy surface. Calm. Steady.
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Untouched.
Then, after a pause, she slowly lifted her head.
The last few minutes ticked away. The final person to arrive was Alyssa, carrying a notebook and pen. Unlike the others, she had come prepared. She quietly took a seat, keeping her head down. Someone beside her sneered, “Didn’t you want to resign? Now you’re groveling to the new director, hoping she’ll shield you?”
Alyssa bit her lip. She shot back, “I’m not currying favor. I’m doing my job. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
The man — a petty supervisor from the design department, and a Garrett loyalist — snorted with contempt, “Oh? Your job? Don’t make me laugh. You’re just a fabric developer who wastes money on useless materials! How much production have you slowed? How much profit have you burned? You’re nothing but a thorn in the side of the vice president. And now, you’re trying to cozy up to the new director? Too late. Stop pretending to be some innocent little lamb.”
The room fell silent, every pair of eyes fixated on Alyssa and the man sitting next to her. A few stole furtive glances at Rylie, who sat at the head of the table, wondering how she would respond to such a direct challenge.
Alyssa, visibly trembling with anger, held onto her pen so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were red, and the weight of the humiliation left her struggling to find words. The air was thick with tension.
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