Chapter 345
Chapter 345:
Isolde frowned. So predictable. Grayson always had to name things after myths and monsters. It was a testament to his ego.
The elevator doors slid open.
Grayson walked in alone. No lawyers. No Belle.
Isolde stiffened. “You.”
“Me,” Grayson said, moving through the room as though he still owned it. “I told you, Isolde. This is my home.”
“It’s a box of concrete,” she said. “And the price just went up twenty percent.”
Grayson didn’t blink. “I’ll pay it. Cash.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and set a check on the island — the full asking price plus the twenty percent markup.
𝗕𝖾 𝘱𝗮rt о𝘧 𝘰𝘶r со𝗺m𝘂𝗇𝗶t𝘺 о𝗇 𝘨a𝗅𝘯о𝘷𝖾l𝘴.со𝘮
Isolde looked at it. It was tempting. It funded Carson Dynamics for a year. It funded her freedom. It funded the next critical phase of Phoenix-X7. This wasn’t just money; it was ammunition. Using his capital to build the weapon that would ultimately bury him — the irony was exquisite.
“Why?” she asked. “You have other properties.”
Grayson looked around the empty living room. “Memories, I suppose.”
“We had no good memories here,” Isolde said coldly.
“I did,” Grayson said softly. “Before you became difficult.”
Isolde picked up the pen. “Fine. It’s yours.”
She moved to sign the deed.
Grayson placed his hand over the papers. His palm was warm and heavy.
“One condition,” he said.
Isolde looked up. “This is a real estate transaction, not a hostage negotiation.”
“Hector Escobar’s funeral is Sunday,” Grayson said.
Isolde stared at him. “Belle’s father? The man she hasn’t spoken to in ten years?”
“He died yesterday,” Grayson said. “I want you there. Standing next to Belle.”
Isolde let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You want me to comfort the woman I just fired? The woman who stole my husband?”
“I want a show of unity,” Grayson corrected. “The media is circling after the firing. They think the company is unstable. If you show up, it proves we are all amicable.” He tapped the check. “If you come, I sign this. If you don’t, I drag out the divorce for another year. I’ll freeze your assets again.”
Isolde calculated. A year of frozen assets would kill Carson Dynamics. It would kill her research.
“You are despicable,” she said.
“I’m pragmatic,” Grayson said. “Do we have a deal?”
Isolde looked at the check. Then at him.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go.”
She signed the deed with a single, deliberate flourish and slid the papers across the island toward him.
“Enjoy the bad juju, Grayson,” she said.
Isolde tossed the check onto Arland’s desk. It landed with a satisfying slap.
“I sold it,” she said. “But I have to go to the funeral.”
Arland looked up from his monitor. “Escobar’s funeral? That will be a viper pit.”
“I know,” Isolde said, pacing the small office. “Grayson threatened to freeze the accounts. He’s invoking the Lancaster family trust’s morality clause — threatening to paint this as a hostile corporate action that damages the family name.”
“Isolde,” Arland said carefully. “They want you to look submissive. The repentant ex-wife paying her respects to the mistress.” He paused. “Are you going to?”
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