Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 241

Abbott’s pupils contracted sharply at those words.

Across the table, one of the project managers—Carlson—went pale, the blood draining from his face. Instinctively, his gaze flicked to Abbott.

Their eyes met. Abbott, gaze razor-sharp, gave the slightest shake of his head. The message was unmistakable: *If you so much as think about owning up to this, I’ll ruin you right here and now.*

Moments later, the conference room screen lit up with the project directors’ scores—specifically, the ratings for Isadora’s firm.

Nearly everyone had given Seafarer Designs a score north of 95. But then there was Carlson, who’d dragged the average down with a glaringly low 30.

The disparity was impossible to ignore. A wave of uneasy murmurs rippled through the room.

Forcing down his fear, Carlson got to his feet and tried to defend his score, voice strained but defiant.

“Mr. Oakley, the scores are purely subjective. Personally, I just don’t like Seafarer Designs’ proposals!”

Isadora studied Carlson. She didn’t recognize him and had no idea why he was singling out her team.

Calm and collected, she spoke up, “May I ask, Mr. Carlson, given how similar the designs from Seafarer and Gemini Collective are, what is it about ours that you dislike so much?”

Her words seemed to jolt everyone awake.

After all, the whole point of this meeting—the reason representatives were here defending their firms—was precisely *because* Seafarer Designs and Gemini Collective had submitted such similar proposals.

Carlson’s excuse didn’t hold water.

Jonathan’s face turned thunderous. He glared at Carlson. “Carlson, I suggest you think very carefully before you answer.”

From the head of the table, a man’s careless, icy laughter cut through the tension.

“So this is your management style, Jonathan?” Victor’s tone turned glacial.

His voice carried an innate authority, cold and commanding—every word seemed to strike Jonathan like a bullet.

Jonathan’s heart, already sinking, lodged in his throat. He knew Carlson was the problem, but admitting it now would be like shooting himself in the foot.