Chapter 118

Dominic Reeves called repeatedly, each unanswered ring deepening his frustration.

Had Evelyn Carter gone to Silverpine Valley too?

Vanessa Blake's words echoed in his mind, stirring doubt. First-class flights? A Summit Trailhawk? Since when was Phoenix Labs so generous?

And did Celestia Group really have the resources to pour into such a small subsidiary?

"Mr. Reeves!" A lab technician approached, beaming. "The new formula is finalized—identical to the original."

"Are you certain?" Dominic's excitement flickered, quickly tempered by caution. "Tested thoroughly? There can't be the slightest variation."

It was both a blessing and a curse. Evelyn's perfume held an inexplicable allure, creating fiercely loyal customers who rejected even minor deviations. That was why this crisis had spiraled.

He needed perfection—no room for error before mass production.

The technician hesitated briefly before nodding. "Exactly the same. No difference at all."

"Good." Relief loosened Dominic's shoulders. He followed the technician to inspect the sample—a small vial beside testing strips. Leaning in, he inhaled. The familiar scent smoothed the tension from his brow.

"Send it to production immediately. Overtime shifts—I want this backlog cleared overnight." He paused, reconsidering. "No, I'll deliver it myself."

The stakes were too high to delegate. "And mobilize more staff. Once this is done, bonuses and vacations for everyone."

"Thank you, Mr. Reeves!" The technician hurried off, morale lifted.

Dominic turned to leave but halted. "Wait—is Isabella still out?"

"On personal leave," the technician answered, scratching his head.

"Again?" Dominic's jaw tightened. Isabella Thornton's performance had plummeted since Evelyn's departure.

"She didn't elaborate. Just said it was urgent."

Dominic dismissed him with a wave.

Personal leave? Unapproved, no doubt. Her disregard for protocol was becoming intolerable.

He'd been too swamped to address it earlier, but now? Now, he'd make time.

First, the essential oils to the factory. Then, a detour to Isabella's apartment. Employee records had her address—a modest two-bedroom in Willowbrook Apartments, shared with her mother since her father's passing.

At her door, Dominic pressed the bell. Once. Twice. Then a rapid trio of rings.

Footsteps shuffled inside. A yawn. "Who is it?"

Fingers brushed the knob, but Isabella hesitated. Peering through the peephole, her breath hitched.

Dominic Reeves?

Sleep fled in an instant.