"If you're so lacking in self-confidence, it would be better to admit defeat early, wouldn't it?" Rachel Stewart's voice sliced through the tense air like a razor. She had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, her words dripping with condescension as she shot Isabella Sheffield a provoking glance. "After all, the opportunities should be given to those who are prepared and capable?"
Another woman standing beside Rachel Stewart chimed in, her voice high-pitched and mocking. "Exactly! I heard the company only plans to retain half of us. If you're genuinely scared, why not voluntarily withdraw?" She squawked with laughter, as if the very idea of Isabella Sheffield's potential failure was a delightful spectacle.
Isabella Sheffield's gaze hardened as she turned her attention to Rachel Stewart and the women standing behind her. Over the course of the past month, they had become a persistent irritation, like annoying flies buzzing around her and Clara James. Their words, their presence—everything about them rubbed her the wrong way. It was as if they thrived on undermining others, taking pleasure in every small mistake, every moment of doubt.
Isabella Sheffield clenched her fists, the weight of her frustration building. She had worked so hard to get to this point, and yet these women thought they could diminish her efforts with a few pointed words? No. She wouldn't allow it. She would prove them wrong. They would see what she was truly capable of.
"What are you talking about?" Rita Carter, ever the firebrand, couldn't hold back. Her temper flared at the sight of Rachel Stewart's smug expression. Rita Carter had never liked the woman—there was just something about her arrogance that grated on her nerves. Perhaps it was because she sensed that Rachel Stewart thought herself superior to everyone else, that she had some right to belittle others.
Isabella Sheffield quickly put a hand on Rita Carter's arm, urging her to calm down. "Rita, calm down. You can't bite a dog back if it bites you. The competition is what matters most."
Rita Carter threw Isabella Sheffield an irritated look but relented, allowing herself to be guided back to her seat. Isabella Sheffield's eyes never left Rachel Stewart as she silently seethed, determined not to let the woman get under her skin.
"Isabella Sheffield!" Rachel Stewart's voice cracked with fury. Her face turned an angry shade of red, but before she could say another word, the door to the competition room opened. The teachers had arrived, their serious expressions making it clear that the time for idle chatter was over.
Rachel Stewart quickly retreated to her seat, her ire still palpable in the air. Isabella Sheffield took a deep breath, letting the tension slip from her body as she shifted her focus to the front of the room.
But then, her gaze locked onto a figure seated among the evaluation panel—someone she hadn't expected to see today. Her heart seemed to stop as her eyes widened in recognition.
Alexander Cole.
Her husband, in name only, was sitting there, his presence suddenly dominating the room. His eyes flicked toward her, and for a fleeting moment, their gazes met. Alexander Cole smiled. It was a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips, but it was enough to send a shiver down her spine.
Was he really here? Was he actually attending this competition, or was it some bizarre coincidence?
Isabella Sheffield's mind raced.
"Did you see that?" Rita Carter's voice broke through Isabella Sheffield's thoughts, her tone full of surprise. "I didn't expect Alexander Cole to actually show up."
The room seemed to buzz with hushed whispers. There had been rumors that the CEO himself would personally conduct the assessment, but no one had truly believed it. Now that they saw him in person, however, it was clear that he wasn't just a figurehead—Alexander Cole was a very real presence, and his arrival shifted the dynamic of the entire competition.
Isabella Sheffield's hands trembled slightly as she took a seat, her heart pounding in her chest. She had thought she'd been prepared for today, but this? The very idea that Alexander Cole might be observing her—it was enough to rattle even her steely nerves.
Her mind buzzed with questions. Why was he here? What was he looking for? The other women in the room were all focused on impressing the panel, but for Isabella Sheffield, this felt different. It wasn't just about performing well—it was about making an impression on someone who had the power to change everything for her.
As she sat there, her thoughts clouded by uncertainty, her gaze subconsciously drifted back to Alexander Cole. He was seated among the evaluators, a calm, almost detached figure. But there was something in his eyes as he looked in her direction—a flicker of recognition, perhaps, or something deeper that she couldn't quite place.
Rita Carter, oblivious to Isabella Sheffield's inner turmoil, continued to muse. "I've met him a few times, you know. My elder brother is friends with him. I never thought Alexander Cole would actually take the time to show up for something like this, though." She shook her head, clearly impressed. "I always thought he was just some cold businessman, but now I'm seeing he's more involved than I gave him credit for."
Before Isabella Sheffield could gather her thoughts, the door to the room opened again, and the competition officially began. The air grew thick with tension as the first contestants took the stage, each one trying to outshine the others, hoping to make a lasting impression on the evaluators. Isabella Sheffield's palms were sweaty, her nerves fraying at the edges. She had prepared for this moment, but now that it was here, the reality felt so much more daunting.
Her turn came all too quickly. Isabella Sheffield stood up, her heart hammering in her chest as she walked toward the stage. Every step felt heavier than the last, but she pushed forward. She couldn't back down now—not after everything she had worked for, not after everything she had endured to get here.
As she took her position on the stage, she glanced over at Alexander Cole once more. His gaze was fixed on her, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire room had vanished. There was only him.
Her breath caught in her throat. This was her chance to prove herself, she had to do this. For herself. For her future.
As the evaluation panel began to speak, their voices blurred together, but in the back of her mind, one thing was crystal clear—this competition was far more than a test of talent. It was a test of everything she had ever known about herself, about the choices she had made, and about the path she would ultimately choose.
The final question from the panel rang out:
"Isabella Sheffield, are you prepared to take the next step?"