Chapter 72
Chapter 72:
“That girl,” the old woman muttered. “She has more spine than the lot of you combined.”
Grayson felt the heat climb up his neck. He gripped his knife until his knuckles turned white.
Back in the guest room, the air was peaceful. Isolde ordered grilled cheese and tomato soup for Effie.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She picked it up. An email notification.
Sender: Arland Roth Subject: Official Offer — Orbital Systems
Isolde opened it. The contract was attached. The salary was substantial. The title read: Chief Engineer — Special Projects.
The message body contained only four words: Welcome back, Valkyrie.
A lump formed in Isolde’s throat. She stared at that name. It had been years since anyone had called her that — a name from a life she thought she had buried.
She forwarded the document to Harper with a brief note: Legal review ASAP.
Harper’s reply came back in under a minute. Already done. He sent me a draft yesterday. It’s clean. Sign it.
C𝘩ine𝗌e 𝗇ov𝖾𝗹𝘀 𝘵𝗋𝖺𝗻𝘀𝘭𝖺𝗍𝘦𝗱 о𝗇 𝘨𝘢𝗅𝗻𝘰𝘷𝖾𝗹ѕ.𝖼𝘰m
With Harper’s blessing, Isolde tapped the screen and executed her digital signature.
Sent.
Effie looked up from her coloring book. “Mommy? Are we moving again?”
Isolde looked at her daughter. “Yes, baby. But this time, we’re moving up. To a place where no one can make us feel small.”
From downstairs, the sound of shattering glass echoed up through the ventilation shaft. Grayson had finally lost his temper.
Isolde smiled.
Sunday morning. Isolde was packing. The suitcase lay open on the bed, half-filled with Effie’s clothes.
The door swung open without a knock.
Grayson stood there, holding a glass filled with thick, dark green sludge.
Isolde didn’t look up from folding a sweater. “Knocking is a courtesy, Grayson. Try it sometime.”
Grayson walked into the room, ignoring her. He thrust the glass toward her. “Drink this. It’s a detox blend. Spirulina and kale. You’ve been erratic. Emotional. It’s clearly a hormonal imbalance.”
Isolde stared at the glass. It was the classic play. Gaslighting 101. If she was angry, she must be sick. If she had boundaries, she must be unstable.
“I’m not sick,” Isolde said. “I’m divorced. There’s a difference.”
Grayson’s eyes wandered to the desk, where her laptop sat open. The screen saver was active, but the Orbital Systems logo bounced across the black background.
He snorted and picked up the computer. “Orbital? Arland’s little toy company? Don’t tell me you actually took a job there. You think playing engineer for a few months will make you feel important? Don’t be ridiculous, Isolde. I know exactly what you’re trying to do. You think putting on a lab coat makes you Valkyrie?”
Isolde snatched the laptop from his hands. “I’m an engineer, Grayson. A chief engineer.”
Grayson laughed — a genuine, incredulous sound, though it carried a frantic edge of denial. He was trying to convince himself as much as her.
“Chief of what, the coffee machine? Please, Isolde. Don’t embarrass yourself. You spent the last five years planning galas. Let’s not pretend you remember what a differential equation is.”
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