Chapter 188
Chapter 188:
“Isolde,” Grayson started, his voice awkward. “About the dinner with my grandmother — the pine nut thing —”
Isolde turned to him. “What about it?”
“I forgot. That’s all.”
“You didn’t forget, Grayson,” she said, her voice flat. “You never cared enough to remember.”
He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” Isolde let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Tomorrow we bury the woman who raised me, and you’re worried about fairness?”
Before he could respond, a sound filled the cabin. The car’s Bluetooth system. A ringtone.
Priority Call.
The dashboard screen lit up. Belle.
I𝗻𝗌t𝖺n𝘁 а𝖼𝖼𝘦𝘴𝗌 𝗈𝘯 𝗀𝘢𝘭ո𝗼ve𝗅𝘴.c𝗈𝗺
Grayson’s hand shot to the console to decline it, but his finger slipped and hit Answer.
Belle’s voice, shrill and panicked, exploded through the speakers.
“Gray! You have to come now!”
Grayson flinched. “Belle? I’m driving. What is it?”
“It’s the prototype!” Belle was sobbing. “The InnoTech investor showcase — the main server just crashed. Smoke is coming out of the drive unit. The investors are freaking out. They’re talking about pulling the funding!”
Grayson’s face went white. “What? Did you check the cooling loop?”
“I don’t know!” Belle screamed. “I don’t know how to fix it! You have to come fix it! They’re going to sue me, Gray! Please!”
Isolde sat perfectly still. She watched Grayson’s profile. She saw the panic in his eyes — not for her grandmother, not for her grief, but for Belle’s incompetence.
“Okay,” Grayson said, his voice shifting into command mode. “Okay, calm down. I’m coming.”
Isolde felt the blood drain from her face. “Excuse me?”
Grayson looked at her. For a moment he looked torn. Then his eyes moved to the dashboard clock.
“Isolde, this is a disaster. That’s a two-hundred-million-dollar investment.”
“And this is a meeting about my grandmother’s will,” Isolde said, her voice dropping to a deadly quiet. “A final wish she asked us to honor together.”
“Wishes don’t bankrupt companies, Isolde!” Grayson snapped. “This is real. Belle is about to lose everything. I have to go.”
He swerved toward the curb and hit the brakes hard.
“I’ll call the lawyers, tell them we’re rescheduling,” he said, his voice strained. “I’ll send the driver back for you as soon as I can.”
Isolde stared at him. “You’re leaving me here? In the rain?”
“Isolde, I don’t have time to argue,” Grayson said, his hand already on the door handle. “This is an emergency. It’s business.”
“You promise,” Isolde said. The words tasted like bile.
“I’ll fix it,” he said — a desperate, all-encompassing promise that she knew had nothing to do with her. “Just wait.”
Isolde didn’t argue. She didn’t scream. She simply opened her own door and stepped out into the downpour.
The cold rain soaked her instantly. Her sweater clung to her skin. Her hair was plastered to her forehead.
Grayson didn’t wait. The Bentley’s tires spun on the wet asphalt, spraying a sheet of dirty water across her legs as he accelerated away.
Isolde stood there on the corner, shivering. The humiliation was physical — sharp and solid as a slap.
.
.
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