Chapter 172

Chapter 172:

Isolde didn’t flinch. She finished capping her pen, the click sounding like a gunshot in the small space between them, and looked up, her eyes cold and clear.

“Technology evolves, Daron,” she said, her voice steady. “But the laws of physics tend to stay the same. Gravity doesn’t care about your marketing budget. And drag coefficients don’t care about your ego.”

Daron opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. He looked at her — really looked at her — and for the first time didn’t see the woman he had mocked at the gala. He saw a wall he couldn’t climb. He scoffed, a sound of pure frustration, and stormed off toward the bar.

Isolde let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She turned, scanning the room.

Across the lounge, Belle was reapplying her lipstick in a compact mirror. The shade was aggressive — a bright crimson meant to signal power. She snapped the compact shut, smoothed her gold dress, and surveyed the room like a predator spotting prey.

Her target was Professor Eldridge Nelson.

𝘋оw𝗇𝗹о𝗮𝗱 р𝘋𝖥𝗌 𝗳r𝖾е о𝗻 𝗀𝖺𝘭𝘯o𝗏𝗲𝗹s.𝖼оm

The old man sat in a leather armchair, reviewing a stack of data sheets, a glass of water untouched beside him. He was the gatekeeper of the Summit. His approval was the gold standard.

Isolde watched from the shadows as Belle approached him, hips swaying, that practiced, perfect smile fixed in place.

“Professor Nelson,” Belle purred, extending a hand. “It’s such an honor. I’m Belle Escobar, the Chief Designer for InnoTech — and the vision behind the Phoenix project.”

Nelson didn’t look up. He flipped a page, his brow furrowed. “Escobar. The firm that was flagged for plagiarism on the guidance systems five years ago?”

Belle’s smile froze. It didn’t drop, but the corners twitched. A few people nearby chuckled into their drinks.

“That was a corporate misunderstanding,” Belle said, her voice tightening. She lowered her hand. “I actually wanted to pick your brain about the computational fluid dynamics of the supercritical airfoil. We’re encountering some interesting boundary layer separation data at high angles of attack.”

Nelson finally looked up. He pushed his glasses down his nose and peered at her over the rims, his gaze withering.

“Pick my brain?” he repeated. “Young woman, even if you’ve memorized a page from a textbook, I doubt we speak the same language. I don’t discuss fluid dynamics with people who think ‘drag’ is just a term for a bad day.”

Belle’s face drained of color as though he had slapped her. She took a step back, her mouth opening and closing.

Grayson stood near a pillar, watching. He frowned, his hand half-raised as if to intervene — but he stayed put. He saw the humiliation. He saw the crowd’s amusement. And he didn’t move to save her.

Isolde felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Administrator Sterling’s personal secretary — a sharp-looking woman with a tablet.

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