Chapter 627
Chapter 627:
The woman remained stationed at the entrance, her tone sharp with authority as she barred the way. “Shiloh, have you forgotten the rules here? Ms. Cooper is taking her afternoon tea now. Whatever business you have can wait until after dinner p>
Shiloh’s pulse quickened. He knew these routines all too well. Cold sweat beaded his forehead as he forced an uneasy smile, his posture deferential. “I understand Ms. Cooper doesn’t receive visitors during her private hours, but this situation demands exception… I’ve brought her favorite delicacies from Alis Bakery, the freshly baked peach crisps she adores. Siena, might you inform her? I have urgent matters to report p>
Siena Collins’ eyes dropped to the elegant paper box cradled in Shiloh’s trembling hands. Without a word, she extended her palm.
Relief flooded through Shiloh as he surrendered it, watching it disappear into her grasp.
“Wait here,” Siena commanded, her eyes narrowing to scrutinizing slits before she pivoted and glided away.
She crossed the corridor and arrived at the fountain, setting the box on the round marble table with careful precision. As she lifted the lid, the sweet aroma of fresh pastries escaped. Bowing respectfully, she spoke in hushed tones. “Ms. Cooper, Shiloh has brought your favorite cakes p>
An elegantly dressed woman sat nearby, teacup poised at her lips as she watched the koi fish glide through the crystalline water with hypnotic grace.
At the sound of Siena’s voice, she turned with unhurried elegance, placing her cup gently on its saucer. Her refined eyebrows lifted with mild curiosity as she reached for one of the pastries.
She savored the first bite thoughtfully. “Alis Bakery maintains their excellence. The flavor is just as I remember. Shiloh shows such consideration, keeping my preferences in mind p>
Zoey’s gaze rose, a pleased smile touching her lips as she continued, “It’s unusual for him to come at this hour. The matter must be important. Have him join me p>
“Of course,” Siena replied with a slight bow.
Meanwhile, Richard emerged from the prison’s shadow and made his way to an office building.
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Waiting for him was a distinguished gentleman whose silver hair matched his own, a revered figure in Wront’s fashion design industry. His name was Larkin Dixon.
He had built Lark from nothing into a fashion empire that once rivaled even Aurora Apparel before MCN’s acquisition.
For decades, his name had been synonymous with cutting-edge design and impeccable craftsmanship.
But MCN’s rise had shattered that legacy. Lark’s latest collections were hemorrhaging sales, their numbers plummeting by nearly half.
If there was a man who despised MCN with every fiber of his being, Larkin would be that man. He’d fight anyone who claimed to hate them more.
After the customary introductions, Richard cut straight to his purpose. “Mr. Dixon, I have the key to restoring Lark to its former glory p>
Richard’s hands shook with barely contained excitement as he withdrew a thick portfolio from his briefcase. “These sketches will change everything. MCN’s celebrated designs aren’t original. Eileen’s entire reputation is built on plagiarism p>