Chapter 695:
He clung to the promise from the Crolens contact—two million once the deal was sealed, enough to raise a mansion back in the town.
With the ordeal behind her, Rylie settled into dinner at one of Malvren’s best restaurants. Patrick treated her with easy warmth. “Tourism’s really picking up here. We’ve opened a handful of new attractions. You came at just the right time, Miss Owen. Tomorrow I’ll have a local guide take you through the mountains—show you how stunning they are.”
Rylie answered, “Thank you, Mr. Avila, but my main purpose for this trip is still the fabric issue.”
Patrick’s smile wavered, as though the topic pressed against a sore spot. “I’d like nothing more than to help, but this isn’t something I can control. The Malvren Dyeing Factory used to work solely with Elegance and Sweetberry, both under Ms. Garrett. But lately, Sweetberry has been cutting off ties with a lot of factories—ours included.”
Rylie dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I see. I should’ve thought that through better.”
Her remark drew a few sidelong looks from nearby diners, the kind that branded her as nothing more than a pretty face without much sense.
Patrick jumped in quickly. “You might try reaching out to Ms. Garrett directly. If she gives her approval, we can pick up our partnership again.”
Another official leaned closer, his tone lightly edged. “Why not ring her now, Miss Owen? You’re family, aren’t you? Sometimes a little humility works better than anything else.”
Before Rylie could speak, Patrick was already fishing out his phone. “No better time than now. I’ll call her.”
Almost instantly, the line connected. To her surprise, it wasn’t just a call but a video chat.
Laurel’s face filled the screen, framed by a sleek black gown and flawless makeup. Patrick made to pass the phone to Rylie, but Brad stepped forward, his glare sharp and unyielding.
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Even a man as seasoned as Patrick felt a chill from the bodyguard’s stare and quickly backed off.
“Rylie? And from Patrick’s phone, no less?” Laurel’s tone carried practiced surprise, pitched just loud enough for the well-dressed women around her to overhear.
Rylie lifted a brow, her voice unhurried. “Laurel, are you at some sort of event?”
Maintaining her polished smile, Laurel said, “Elegance is hosting a private soirée this evening for select high-end clients—most of them personal friends. Now, what exactly brings you to call?”
Before Rylie could answer, Patrick jumped in. “Mrs. Laurel Owen, Miss Owen is requesting a fabric from the Malvren Dyeing Factory. It used to be reserved for Elegance, but Sweetberry ended the contract on their own. She wants it now, and I’m unsure how to proceed.”
Laurel turned the phone’s volume higher, making sure the women nearby could hear every word.
Putting on a mask of polite confusion, she asked, “As far as I’m aware, Sweetberry hasn’t released new designs or needed specialty fabrics lately. What would you use it for?”
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