She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 887

Giselle remained perfectly composed. "It won't affect Bloomberry. This is Loyce's company. He wouldn't dare mess with it."

"True." Jean, who knew snippets of what had happened years ago, patted her shoulder. "You kept your head down all those years just for this moment. We'll face them together tonight."

At 7:00 PM, they arrived at an exclusive private club in Metropia.

Giselle had changed into a sleek, minimalist black pantsuit, her hair pinned up elegantly, with a simple pair of pearl earrings.

Jean couldn't help but stare as they walked in. "Honestly, with that aura, you look more like the owner right now than Loyce does."

Giselle smiled faintly. "Stop flattering me. Let's go."

Watching her walk ahead, Jean muttered to herself, "She's so grounded now. She's completely evolved."

The private dining room was expansive. Seven or eight middle-aged men in sharp suits sat around a massive circular table, the luxury watches on their wrists flashing under the chandelier.

The seat of honor was left empty, clearly reserved for Bloomberry's representative.

Sitting beside it was a woman in her early forties, impeccably made up and wearing a champagne-colored dress with a strand of top-tier pearls. She looked like one of the executives' wives.

The moment Jean stepped through the door, the men stood up, plastering on enthusiastic smiles.

"Ms. Morgan! So glad you could make it, please, take a seat." A balding man at the forefront hurried over, eagerly pulling out the main chair.

His name was Chadwick Dawson, a major player in high-end silk imports. He glanced past Jean and assessed Giselle. "And who is this...?"

"This is Bloomberry's newly appointed Chief Designer and Executive Director, Giselle Turner," Jean introduced.

Chadwick's expression shifted subtly. "Director Turner? Never heard of you before, but it's a pleasure."

"I just got back from overseas," Giselle said, giving him a polite, brief nod.

Chadwick chuckled, gesturing for them to sit.

Giselle noticed the men subtly passing assessing, slightly predatory glances her way.

After a few rounds of drinks, the conversation finally pivoted to business.

Chadwick set down his wine glass, smiling broadly. "Ms. Morgan, don't you think it's time we renegotiated Bloomberry's supply chain contracts?"

Chadwick pulled several fabric swatches from his briefcase and spread them across the table. "I won't waste your time. Just feel the quality. You can't find this anywhere else right now. Triple the price is honestly a favor based on our history."

Giselle set down her teacup and casually picked up one of the swatches.

She rubbed it gently between her thumb and forefinger, flipped it over to examine the weave on the backing, then tossed it back onto the table and wiped her hands.

"Mr. Dawson," she began, her voice calm but carrying effortlessly across the room. "This fabric is standard Georgette silk. The width is 114 centimeters, and the weight is barely under 19 momme. This was milled domestically, not imported from Italy."

Chadwick's confident smile froze.

Giselle didn't miss a beat. "Raw silk prices dropped by twelve percent last year. The manufacturing cost for this batch is less than ten dollars a yard. Bloomberry previously paid twenty. You're now asking for sixty for cheap, domestic knockoffs. You must think we're very generous."

Chadwick's face twitched. He hadn't expected an executive fresh from overseas to be so flawlessly updated on domestic market margins.

"Director Turner, you're making a lot of assumptions—"

"I'm not finished." Giselle cut him off, picking up another swatch. "This one. Supposedly imported Australian wool? The texture isn't bad, but I don't even need to read the care tag to tell you the wool content is under seventy percent. The rest is cheap polyester. If we use this for high-end couture gowns, it'll pill after one wear. Are you actively trying to destroy Bloomberry's reputation?"

Jean's eyes widened in realization. She had started her career in textiles. Picking up the swatch and feeling it herself, her anger boiled over. "She's right. You actually had the nerve to bring us defective, adulterated garbage?! Do you really think Bloomberry is that easy to play?!"