Ex Cried as I Wed a Tycoon novel Chapter 88

Effie hurried off to her meeting and, as a result, never had a chance to look over the project brief.

By the time the meeting was over and she’d grabbed a quick lunch, the afternoon sun was already slanting through the office windows.

She was just settling in to finally review the materials when her assistant, Shirley, appeared at her door.

“Ms. Bagnold, your client is almost here. I hear she’s a regular—very particular, though. Apparently, she’s a dancer, but she’s generous when it comes to pricing. Just a heads up: you might want to be extra careful with this one.”

Shirley had a knack for knowing everything about everyone—a real office encyclopedia. She always seemed to have the inside scoop.

A dancer? The word caught Effie off guard. For some reason, Isabel’s face popped into her mind.

Wasn’t Isabel a dancer, too?

No, it had to be a coincidence.

Besides, there was no way Isabel would know anything about her. She was just another face in the crowd. Her marriage to Lyman was a tightly kept secret, after all.

Effie shook off the thought. She was overthinking it.

“Alright, thanks, Shirley. When they arrive, could you please bring them to the conference room? I’ll head over and get everything ready,” Effie replied, her tone calm and collected.

Whatever happens, happens, she thought. She wasn’t nervous—after all, she’d designed jewelry for royalty and high society before, and they’d all left satisfied.

If a client was picky, that just meant her designs weren’t quite what they were looking for. As long as the criticism was constructive, Effie was grateful for it. That was how she improved.

And, truthfully, she’d always had confidence in her own abilities.

Hopefully, this client wouldn’t be difficult just for the sake of it.

Shirley, seeing Effie’s effortless poise, felt reassured. She admired Effie—her time at the company hadn’t been long, but Shirley already liked her immensely.

Effie was striking in an understated way, carrying herself with a quiet confidence and elegance that couldn’t be faked or imitated. Shirley always assumed she must come from a good background, a life of privilege, even though Effie never flaunted labels or showed off.

But it had to be a coincidence, she told herself again. Isabel couldn’t possibly know who she was.

Effie kept her composure, a polite, professional smile on her lips. “Miss Isabel, welcome to The Etheridge Group. I’m Effie Bagnold, and I’ll be handling your jewelry design project.”

Isabel entered the room with a graceful smile, her gaze lingering on Effie for just a moment—long enough for something unreadable to flicker in her eyes.

Her agent, Carole, followed close behind, giving Effie a curious once-over.

“Ms. Bagnold, it’s a pleasure,” Isabel said, her voice soft and melodious, with just the faintest note of intrigue.

“Please, have a seat, Miss Isabel,” Effie said cordially, gesturing to the table.

Isabel took a seat, elegant and composed. “I’ve heard so much about your work, Ms. Bagnold. They say your designs have a truly unique style. That’s why I came to you—I’m hoping you’ll create something special for me. I do hope you won’t let me down.”

There was a subtle edge to her words—a hint of challenge beneath the polite surface.