Goodbye Saintess (by Edelweiss W.S.) novel Chapter 98

Stan let out a derisive laugh. “If you manage to uncover even one flaw in our proposal, I’ll gladly slap myself silly and admit I was wrong about your so-called genius. But if you can’t—or worse, if you start spouting nonsense—I’ll owe Ms. Bishop an apology for what I’m about to do to you.”

I cast a cool, confident glance over the proposals, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. They were practically begging to be humiliated in front of everyone. Well, I was more than happy to oblige.

“Your proposal is all flash and no depth,” I said, voice steady and sharp. “Sure, you’ve included market and risk analyses, but the projected returns don’t even come close to justifying the risks you’re taking. The ROI is so low it falls beneath the industry’s annual average. Investing in this project would be like throwing money into a fire.” I flicked the paper with a casual gesture, sending it flying straight into Stan’s face.

He shot me a glare, ready to retort, but then his eyes flicked back to the numbers. Slowly, the realization dawned on him—I was right. Every single point I’d made was a dealbreaker.

Turning my attention to Vernon, I pressed on. “And this? The execution plan is nothing but wishful thinking. There’s no practical strategy behind it. You say the project will wrap up in three months, but it’s rigid and fragile. What’s your contingency if your supplier hits a snag? How do you plan to recover from losses? What about containing a critical failure?”

I leaned in, voice low but cutting. “Your figures are off by at least fifty percent. What is this—did a child put these numbers together? Do you really believe Baron would invest in this mess?”

Vernon’s face drained of color as he caught sight of the proposal I had discarded in disgust. He stayed silent, unable to defend himself.

Lenat bit her lip, clearly realizing she’d underestimated me. “You… you actually know this stuff?” she asked, disbelief creeping into her tone.

I raised an eyebrow and sneered. “Duh.”

In less than two minutes, I had dismantled their best efforts with such precision and clarity that no argument was possible.

Stan broke the silence, his tone grudgingly respectful. “Your husband’s actually really good, Ms. Bishop.”

Another voice chimed in, disbelief evident. “How could he just be a firefighter? He must have been some kind of consultant before, right?”

“I never knew you had a powerhouse like that at home,” someone murmured, admiration lacing their words.