Chapter 315
Chapter 315:
“She doesn’t hate you, sweetie,” Belle cooed, smoothing his hair. “She’s just… unstable right now.”
She leaned toward Grayson, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
“See?” she hissed. “She is punishing a child just to get to you. It’s sick, Gray. She knows Kaiden is sensitive.”
Grayson clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. He looked at the shattered plate on the floor.
“It’s petty,” he muttered. “Even for her.”
But deep down, he knew it wasn’t petty. It was surgical. Isolde wasn’t playing a game. She was removing the tumor.
𝗥𝘦𝗮𝗱 𝗍h𝘦 𝘭а𝘵𝗲𝘴𝘵 t𝗋e𝗻𝖽𝘀 oո 𝘨𝗮lո𝘰𝗏e𝗹s.c𝗼𝗺
Five miles away, in Carson Dynamics’ new research facility — a sleek glass-and-steel building in the heart of the city’s burgeoning tech district — the air was quiet.
Isolde sat in a glass-walled conference room. Her phone lay on the table beside her laptop, completely silent. No tantrums. No demands for pancakes. No passive-aggressive texts about dry cleaning.
Liam, who had quietly submitted his resignation to Grayson’s office a week prior citing a desire for a more innovative environment, walked in with a newfound lightness that stood in stark contrast to his previous tense demeanor. He set a steaming cup of herbal tea on a coaster.
“The funding proposal for the Summit is ready,” he said efficiently.
Isolde didn’t look up from the tablet she was reviewing. “We need fifty million to prototype the new thruster. The simulations are solid, but we need hardware.”
Arland Roth leaned against the doorframe in a casual blazer, effortlessly composed.
“Fifty million is a big ask for a company that Grayson Lancaster has blacklisted,” he noted.
Isolde looked up. Her eyes were clear, sharp, and focused.
“We don’t need his network, Arland,” she said. “We need one visionary investor. Someone who cares about physics, not politics.”
Arland walked over and glanced at her silent phone. “Still quiet?”
“I blocked them all,” Isolde said, her voice devoid of guilt. “Grayson. Belle. Kaiden. The house staff. Even the gate security.”
Arland raised an eyebrow. “Kaiden too? That’s cold.”
Isolde picked up her phone, her thumb tracing the edge of the screen. “This old number isn’t for calls anymore. It’s set to receive specific alerts from Effie’s school and a few close contacts for emergencies. A carefully curated filter, nothing more.” A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something — regret, perhaps, or simply weariness — crossed her eyes. “Effie lives with me, Arland. I see her every day. This isn’t about ignoring her. This is about cutting off a channel that was being weaponized.”
“Good,” Arland said, a faint smile touching his lips. “You can’t build a rocket if you’re anchored to the ground. Every distraction is drag.”
Isolde touched the lock screen of her phone. The wallpaper was a photo of Effie, smiling, holding a model airplane.
“I only kept one line open,” she whispered. “The only one that matters.”
Back at the penthouse, Grayson was pacing his study with his personal lawyer on speakerphone.
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