Chapter 316

Chapter 316:

“Find out if she is violating the custody agreement,” he barked. “She is refusing to communicate with Kaiden. That has to be abandonment, or emotional distress, or something.”

A pause settled over the line. The lawyer cleared his throat.

“Mr. Lancaster,” he said carefully. “Isolde has no biological tie to Kaiden. She never legally adopted him. In the eyes of the law, she is a stranger to that boy.”

Grayson stopped pacing. He stared out at the rain-soaked city.

𝖭е𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝗄𝗅y 𝘤𝗵aр𝘁𝘦𝗋s o𝗇 ga𝗅𝗇𝗼𝗏𝘦𝘭𝗌.co𝗺

“She has no obligation to answer his calls,” the lawyer continued. “None whatsoever.”

Grayson hung up without saying goodbye.

He stood there, staring at the window, and understood with terrifying clarity that he had no leverage left. He couldn’t force her to be a mother to his son anymore.

He was entirely on his own.

The Javits Center was a cavernous beast of glass and steel, humming with the energy of a thousand egos. The Global Tech Summit was the Super Bowl of the industry — a place where fortunes were made and reputations were slaughtered.

Massive banners hung from the ceiling: CARSON DYNAMICS. ORBITAL. SKYLINE.

Outside, a stretch limousine pulled up to the VIP curb. Flashbulbs popped like strobe lights.

Grayson stepped out first. He adjusted his suit jacket and flashed his practiced, charismatic smile for the cameras, then reached back and offered his hand.

Belle emerged.

She was not dressed for a tech conference. She was dressed for the Oscars. The bright red, backless gown she wore screamed for attention — flashy, expensive, and completely out of place among the engineers and investors in business casual. A flash of irritation crossed Grayson’s features at her choice before he buried it beneath his public smile. This was not the image he wanted for InnoTech, but Belle was Belle, and her sheer force of personality had a way of overwhelming his strategic concerns.

“Mr. Lancaster!” a reporter shouted. “Is InnoTech going public?”

Grayson guided Belle toward the entrance, his hand at the small of her back. “We have big announcements today,” he said smoothly. “The future is here.”

Belle waved at the cameras, soaking in the adoration. She looked like the queen of the ball.

A moment later, a sleek black sedan arrived quietly at the side entrance, well away from the media circus. The driver opened the door.

Arland Roth stepped out, sharp in a charcoal suit. He turned and offered a hand.

Isolde took it.

She stepped onto the pavement wearing neither a gown nor a statement piece. She wore a tailored, pristine white pantsuit — the fabric structured, the lines sharp and architectural. Her only jewelry was a simple, high-end chronograph watch on her wrist.

She didn’t look like a wife. She looked like a CEO.

“Ready?” Arland asked.

“Always,” Isolde said.

They moved toward the check-in counters. Isolde scanned the hall with a predator’s focus. She wasn’t here to drink champagne. She was here to hunt.

Near the entrance, holding court with a group of junior bankers, was Daron McKnight — laughing loudly, a tumbler of whiskey in hand. He spotted them. His eyes narrowed.

.

.

.