Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” I told her.
She nodded, though doubt clouded her eyes.
“But how will we find out who did this? Who would even want to hurt us?”I had no answers. Not yet. Too much had happened in forty-eight hours: my car rammed on the road, Sebastian shot, and now this sabotage.
“Go home and rest. Don’t come in tomorrow. You’re on paid leave. We’ll suspend business for now.”Priya asked softly, “Do you think our other orders are compromised too?”I nodded.
“It’s possible.”
“I can help,” she said quickly.
“I’ll call all the clients, double-check the order details.”
“I thought of that too,” I said.
“But it won’t work. What if the files you send to the factory get tampered with again? Or the database altered after you’ve confirmed with clients? We can’t check and recheck every morning, and constant calls will only irritate customers.”Priya thought it through and finally nodded.
“All right. I’ll go home. But will you call me if you find anything? I want to help.”
“I will.” I patted her shoulder.
At the door, she paused and looked back.
“Elean, thank you for believing me.”
I gave her a faint smile.
“Just go home and rest. We’ll survive this.”After she left, I checked the rest of the orders.
Sure enough, every single one had been tampered with.
Some had their measurements altered by a few millimetres. It was subtle on paper, but the finished. pieces would be drastically different from what the clients had approved.
In other cases, rings had been swapped for necklaces, lower-clarity stones used, carat weights changed.
A headache throbbed behind my eyes as I scrolled through the files.
I’d have to call every client, apologise for cancelling their orders to prevent further disasters like Penelope’s, offer refunds and compensation where needed, and brace myself for the fallout.
It was not work I was looking forward to.
When I returned to the hospital, I felt utterly drained.
“What happened at the studio?” Sebastian asked.
I rested my head against his chest.
“I feel awful.”
“What is it?”
“Someone sabotaged a major order and I have no idea who. The client’s furious. She’s demanding compensation for breach of contract and threatening to sue.”
“How much does she want? Tell me,” Sebastian said immediately.
I shook my head.
“I can cover it. Money isn’t the issue.”I told him everything that had happened and then sighed.
“I really don’t know who would want to frame me, or why they would target me.”Sebastian frowned.
“Do you think it’s the same people behind the shooting and the sabotage at the studio?” I asked.
He thought for a moment.
“Could be.”
“I just don’t know when I could have made enemies that powerful.”Whoever it was would need connections to hire armed men and to tamper with computer systems. I was a jewellery designer. I didn’t move in those circles. Who would want me dead and my reputation ruined?
Part of me wanted to ask if it might be Sebastian’s enemies rather than mine, but I held back.
He was already carrying enough guilt, and asking would only make him feel worse.
The next day, I offered Penelope Mitchell a full refund and an additional million dollars in damages.
The lawsuit was withdrawn, but the hit to Elean Joie’s reputation had been done.
Within an hour, my inbox and social feeds were a war zone.
I scrolled through a stream of angry reviews and panicked messages.
Someone had already started a thread on a bridal forum warning brides to steer clear.
A dozen one-star ratings appeared on our review page, each with a short, sharp sentence: “Don’t trust them,”
“Terrible service,”
“They ruined my order,”
“Avoid at all costs.”People reposted Penelope’s screenshots and added their own. The tone turned poisonous fast.
I spent the morning and afternoon on my phone, calling clients one after another, trying to explain and to contain the fallout.
Most were stunned, some were sympathetic, and a few were simply furious.
One call still stuck with me.
“Hello, this is Elean from Elean Joie,” I said, forcing my voice steady.
“Elean?” The client sounded icy.
“You cancelled my order? I’ve been waiting months. My sister’s wedding is in two weeks. Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost us now?”
“I’m so sorry. We discovered the production files were tampered with. I don’t want you to get a substandard piece. I’m offering a full refund and I can prioritise a remake-“
“You can’t prioritise now. It’s too late. If you had told me sooner, I could have found someone else. You’ve left me high and dry.” Her voice rose.
“You’ll be blacklisted. I’ll post everywhere. I’ll tell every planner I know not to touch you. Good luck fixing that!”
“I understand. I-“She hung up before I could finish.
By late afternoon, I could feel the day eating me. Every call seemed to open another wound.
When the last client finally promised to think it over, exhaustion hit.
My legs were leaden and my eyes prickled with fatigue. I sank onto the studio couch, phone limp in my hand, and stared at the muted screen.
There were only two lights on the desk lamp and a smear of late sun on the floor.
Then the phone rang.
For a moment I froze, heart thudding.
Harry entered the room.
“Mr Laurent, we’ve confirmed that the ones who sabotaged Mrs Laurent’s studio, and the ones who tried to run her down and then shot at her… they were all hired by the same guy.
He’s a middleman, and he works for… Genevieve Crawford.”I stared back at Harry.
“No mistakes?”Truth was, I trusted Harry’s competence. He wouldn’t get something like this wrong.
“No. I’ve checked multiple times. It’s her. We also have a witness. Should I bring him in?”I rubbed my throbbing head; the wound in my abdomen ached dully.
“Not now.”
“What would you like me to do next?” Harry asked.
“Nothing. Not yet.”
“Understood.”
“And Elean must not find out about this.”Harry nodded.
“Got it.”
“You can go now.”Once alone, I picked up my phone, thinking of calling Eleanor, but in the end, I didn’t dial.
Guilt gnawed at me.
Anyone who dared hurt Eleanor would pay dearly; I’d make sure they suffered.
But Genevieve was the one person I couldn’t touch, all because of what happened all those years ago…
“Goddamn it,” I muttered through clenched teeth, gripping the phone so hard I nearly cracked it.
When I’d got a grip on myself, I finally called Eleanor.
She sounded relieved.
“Thank god it’s you.”
“Who else would it be?”
“I thought it was another client calling to shout at me.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a bad day.”She sighed.
“One of the worst. But enough about me. How are you? Feeling any better? Is there much pain?”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“I miss you,” I said. And I truly did.