Chapter 10:


    Isolde spent the rest of the day in the hotel room, herptop screen glowing.


    She was updating her resume, but not as Isolde Carson. She created a new encrypted portfolio under the alias “Sophia.” She uploaded the redacted files she still had on her cloud drive—proof of her work on the Phoenix, proof of her patents.


    She felt alive. Her brain was firing on all cylinders.


    At 3 PM, she picked Effie up. Effie was smiling.


    “Did anyone bother you?” Isolde asked, scanning the yground for Kaiden.


    “No,” Effie said. “Kaiden wasn’t there after lunch. He went home.”


    Isolde frowned but didn’t dwell on it. They went to a diner for burgers.


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    Halfway through the meal, Isolde’s old phone rang.


    She looked at the screen. St. Jude’s Nurse.


    She hesitated. She almost let it go to voicemail. But the mother in her—the instinct that had raised Kaiden for five years—made her answer.


    “Hello?”


    “Mrs. Lancaster?” The nurse sounded frantic. “Thank God. We’ve been trying to reach Mr. Lancaster and Ms. Escobar for two hours. No one is answering.”


    “I am not Mrs. Lancaster,” Isolde said automatically.


    “Please, listen. Kaiden copsed in after-school care. He has a fever of 104. He’s vomiting. He’s… he’s asking for you.”


    Isolde felt a cold hand grip her heart.


    She remembered Kaiden throwing the cake. She remembered him calling Effie stupid. She remembered himughing in the golf photo while Effie was being buried.


    “Is he dying?” Isolde asked. Her voice was t.


    “No… I don’t think so. But he’s terrified. We need a parent here to authorize transport if it gets worse.”


    “Then find his parents,” Isolde said.


    “We can’t! Please, you’re still on the emergency list.”


    Isolde looked at Effie, who was happily dipping a fry in ketchup. Effie, who had been ignored and bullied by that boy for her entire life.


    “Call 911 if it’s an emergency,” Isolde said. “Call Child Protective Services if his parents are missing.”


    “But Mrs. Lancaster—”


    “Do not call me again,” Isolde said.


    She hung up.


    She stared at the phone. Her hand was trembling, but she didn’t call back.


    “Who was that?” Effie asked, ketchup on her chin.


    Isolde smiled and wiped the ketchup away.


    “Wrong number,” she said.


    At SkyLine Technologies, Grayson was in a meeting when his personal assistant burst in, face pale.


    “Mr. Lancaster, the school called. It’s Kaiden.”


    Grayson checked his phone. 15 missed calls.


    He rushed to the hospital.


    When he arrived, Belle was already there, sobbing theatrically in the waiting room, holding a tissue that was perfectly dry.


    “Oh, Gray!” she wailed. “The school didn’t call me! They said they tried, but I had my phone on silent for the presentation!”


    Grayson ignored her. He pushed into the room.


    Kaiden was lying in the bed, pale and sweating. He looked small.


    He opened his eyes. He looked past Grayson. He looked past Belle.


    “Where is Isolde?” Kaiden croaked. “She always makes the soup. My tummy hurts. I want Isolde.”


    Grayson froze.


    He looked at the empty space beside the bed. The space where Isolde would have been. Isolde, who sat up with Kaiden when he had the flu. Isolde, who made the special broth. Isolde, who held the bucket when he threw up.


    She wasn’t there.


    Grayson pulled out his phone. He dialed Isolde. Straight to voicemail.


    For the first time, Grayson realized that his money could buy the best doctors, but it couldn’t buy the woman who actually cared. And she wasn’t answering.


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