Chapter 571
Chapter 571:
InnoTech Founder Issues Public Apology for Unprovoked Assault.
She tapped the link and read Belle’s carefully worded, humiliating concession. A cold, satisfied smile touched the corner of her lips.
Phase one was complete. But the real reckoning was scheduled for tomorrow.
She stood and looked out the window. In the distance, the glass spire of the SkyLine building pierced the clouds.
That was the next battlefield.
The sun dipped below the Manhattan skyline, casting long, dark shadows across the hospital room.
Saul Briggs was finally asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady, peaceful rhythm.
Isolde sat at the small glass table in the corner of the VIP suite, a desk lamp illuminating the stacks of financial documents spread out before her.
𝗗𝗈𝗐𝘯l𝗈а𝖽𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘗𝘋𝗙𝘴 𝘰n 𝗴а𝗅ոov𝗲𝗅ѕ.𝗰𝗼m
A soft knock sounded at the door.
She looked up. Silas stood in the doorway, holding a large insulated medical cooler in his left hand and, in his right, a distinct bright orange Hermès gift box tied with a dark brown ribbon.
He stepped into the room and lowered his voice to a careful whisper so as not to wake the sleeping man.
“Miss Carson. Mr. Lancaster asked me to bring these to you.”
He set the cooler gently on the floor.
“Inside is a three-month supply of an experimental targeted therapy drug for acute liver failure stabilization,” Silas explained. “It was flown in from a private lab in Switzerland this afternoon. It has a ninety percent success rate in regenerating hepatic tissue for Mr. Briggs’s specific pathology.”
Isolde looked at the cooler. Then her eyes drifted to the orange box in his hand. She recognized the size and shape immediately — the packaging for their limited-edition silk scarves. She had once collected them.
“What is he trying to do?” she asked, her voice flat. “Buy indulgences for his sins?”
Silas shifted his weight and looked at the floor. “Mr. Lancaster is simply concerned about your well-being.”
Isolde stood and walked over.
“I will accept the medication,” she said. “My uncle needs it. But I will have my accountant calculate the fair market value, and I will mail Grayson a check for three times the cost by the end of the week.”
Silas blinked. “That is really not necessary, Miss Carson.”
“As for that box,” Isolde continued, holding out her hand.
Silas exhaled quietly with relief. He thought she was softening. He placed the orange box into her open palm.
Isolde turned around, took two steps toward the stainless steel trash can near the sink, and opened her fingers.
The heavy, expensive box dropped. It struck the bottom of the empty can with a hollow, echoing thud.
Silas’s eyes went wide. “Miss Carson — that is a custom piece—”
Isolde wiped her palm deliberately against her trousers, as though the box had left something on her skin.
“Tell Grayson I don’t collect garbage anymore,” she said, her voice laced with ice. “Especially not items that Belle Escobar might have touched in his office.”
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