The Wife He Dumped, The Queen She Returned As novel Chapter 315

The venue fell completely silent almost instantly.

The massive outdoor space, packed with serious faces, naturally carried a suffocating sense of pressure.

But the moment Chloe's voice echoed through the speakers, Isabella instinctively whipped her head around to stare at her.

Across the crowd, heads turned, eyes searching for the interpreter's booth.

A reporter lowered his voice, muttering, "That delivery is flawless..."

"Doesn't she sound familiar? Isn't this the new girl?"

"Wait, there were rumors Caroline Monet was making a comeback. Could she be Caroline?"

Isabella's brow furrowed sharply at the comment.

What a ridiculous joke.

Even if their voices shared a similar cadence, comparing this assistant to a legend was absurd.

It took a true professional to recognize the nuances, and this wasn't it.

Yet, as the opening remarks continued, she could tell Chloe was completely dialed in.

It was obvious she was desperate to prove herself.

Let's see how long she lasts before she burns out in the second half, Isabella thought.

She arched an eyebrow and calmly looked away.

Chloe was indeed giving it everything she had.

She was forcing herself to use a completely new rhythm and translation style.

Erasing her old signature cadence wasn't something she could do half-heartedly.

The translation flowed seamlessly, and the VIPs in the audience grew increasingly captivated by the speech.

Her voice seemed to carry a magnetic pull. Even Isabella, who had started out highly skeptical, found herself unknowingly drawn into the flawless rhythm.

The way Isabella looked at Chloe began to shift.

From what she could tell, this level of execution wasn't just competent—her fundamentals easily surpassed most senior interpreters. She was entirely too overqualified to just be a secretary.

Realizing this, Isabella became even more convinced of one thing: Chloe was definitely circling Quentin with an ulterior motive.

Chloe didn't notice the shifting dynamics beside her.

She remained entirely focused, pouring herself into the work.

Isabella yanked off her headset and shot her a glacial look. "This is not a game. If this is your idea of professionalism, you need to go back to the training room before you ever step foot in a booth again!"

Her tone was sharp enough to draw the attention of several nearby reporters.

Sensing the drama, cameras swung their way, flashes firing as journalists instantly began drafting headlines about the rookie blunder and Isabella's swift save.

Chloe knew exactly how amateur her mistake had been.

She didn't try to defend herself. She just lowered her head and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Isabella stared at her. "Your fundamentals are actually solid. But sometimes, when you try too hard to show off, it blows up in your face."

"You can leave. I'll take over the second half."

Chloe tightened her grip on her documents.

She looked back up at the crowd.

The familiar figure was gone.

Suddenly, a tall silhouette stepped directly in front of the flashing cameras.

The reporters' complaints died in their throats the moment they recognized the man's face.