Chapter 231
Chapter 231:
“No,” Isolde said, picking up her phone. “Petty criminal charges won’t shake a woman like Belle — she’d only play the victim. I’m going to use this as leverage to force Grayson to concede on the divorce agreement.”
She dialed her lawyer’s number, her gaze fixed on Belle’s smiling face on the screen. “Hello? It’s Isolde. I have something you need to see. We’re adding a clause to the negotiation.”
Across the city, in the sleek high-rise offices of SkyLine, Grayson was watching the same news segment.
He sat frozen in his leather chair, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. He recognized the bracelet immediately. His mind flashed to the previous night — the trash can, the glittering beads, Isolde’s bandaged wrist. He knew exactly where those crystals had come from.
The office door swung open. Belle walked in, glowing with triumph.
“Gray! Did you see?” She twirled, holding up her wrist. “The media reaction is incredible! Everyone is saying I’m such a good mother, encouraging Kaiden’s creativity. The ratings are already skyrocketing!”
Grayson stood slowly. He didn’t smile. He looked at the bracelet — the jagged, expensive stones strung together clumsily — and felt a wave of nausea.
“Take it off,” he said.
𝖱𝘦𝗮𝖽 t𝗁𝘦 𝗅𝗮𝘵е𝘀𝘵 𝗍𝗿𝘦𝘯𝖽s о𝗇 𝗴𝖺𝗅ո𝗈𝘃𝗲ls.𝖼o𝘮
Belle paused, her smile faltering. “What?”
Grayson walked around his desk, his expression like granite. “I said take it off.”
“But why?” Belle pouted, clutching her wrist. “It’s a symbol of our family. Kaiden made it for me!”
“Kaiden made it after he stole Isolde’s necklace,” Grayson said, his voice low and lethal. “You are parading around wearing stolen goods. Do you think the Lancaster reputation is a joke? Do you think we haven’t been humiliated enough?”
Belle’s face went pale. “Stolen? I — I thought he just found them —”
“He didn’t find them. He took them. Violently,” Grayson snapped. “Throw it away. Destroy it. And don’t ever let me see Kaiden holding anything that doesn’t belong to him again.”
Belle took a step back. She looked into Grayson’s eyes and found no affection there — only a cold, hard pragmatism. For the first time since her return, she felt a genuine flicker of fear.
She understood then, with a sinking heart, that even though Isolde had left the building, her shadow was everywhere — in the beads on Belle’s wrist, in the tension along Grayson’s jaw, and in the suffocating air of the room.
Isolde was gone. But she was winning.
The silence in the Tribeca apartment had been profound since the incident with the stolen bracelet a few days ago.
It was the second Sunday of May. The air drifting through the open window smelled faintly of rain and the fresh carnations sitting on the kitchen counter.
Isolde sat on the edge of the sofa, a soft-bristle brush in her hand. Effie sat cross-legged on the floor between her knees, humming a quiet, off-key tune.
Isolde drew the brush through Effie’s dark hair in long, steady strokes. The repetitive motion grounded her. It kept her heart rate even.
“Mommy,” Effie said softly, her small hands playing with the hem of her pajamas. “Are we going to grandma’s house today?”
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