Chapter 15:


    “Isolde,” she sighed, shaking her head. “We know you’re upset about the divorce, but following us to the hospital? It’s a bit… unhinged. Kaiden is fine, by the way. Just a stomach bug. You don’t need to pretend to care.”


    Isoldeughed. It was a short, sharp sound, like a bark.


    “Apologize?” she asked. “You think I’m here to apologize?”


    “Lower your voice,” Graysonmanded. “People are watching.”


    Isolde took a step back. She pointed down the long, sterile corridor, toward the general ward where the air smelled of disinfectant and despair.


    “I’m not here for you,” she said. “I’m here because Effie is in Room 402.”


    Grayson blinked. “Effie? What are you talking about?”


    “Acute pneumonia,” Isolde said. “Respiratory failure. She stopped breathing in the taxi. She almost diedst night.”


    Grayson’s face went ck. The irritation faltered, revealing a flicker of genuine confusion. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”


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    Isolde reached into her pocket. She pulled out her phone. Her thumb moved with cold precision, opening the call log. She didn’t have to search. The records of her desperation were right at the top.


    She held the screen up to his face.


    The name on the screen wasn’t hers. It wasn’t “Isolde.” It was a single, brutal word.


    Target. Declined. 8:42 PM. Target. Voicemail. 8:43 PM.


    Grayson stared at the screen. The red text was damning enough, but the contact name felt like a razor de sliding under his ribs. Target. Not a person. An objective. Something to be neutralized. The cold intentionality of it stunned him more than any shouted usation could.


    “I did,” she said.


    Grayson stared at the red text. He remembered the buzz of his phone. He remembered Belle’s voice saying, She’s just being dramatic. He swallowed. The word “Target” burned behind his eyes.


    “I thought…”


    “You thought I was lying,” Isolde finished for him. She put the phone away. “You thought I was using her. Because that’s what you would do.”


    “Isolde, wait.” Grayson stepped forward, his hand reaching out. “Is she okay? I need to see her.”


    “No,” Isolde said.


    “She is my daughter!”


    “Is she?” Isolde tilted her head. “Because five minutes ago, you were feeding soup to the boy who bullies her. You were ignoring her calls while she turned blue. You don’t get to be a father only when it’s convenient for your conscience.”


    Belle interjected, her voice shrill. “Grayson was exhausted! You can’t me him for protecting his peace!”


    Isolde turned her head slowly to look at Belle. Her eyes were devoid of emotion, like the lenses of a camera capturing a crime scene.


    “Shut up,” Isolde said. “You are irrelevant.”


    Belle gasped, shrinking back as if Isolde had pped her.


    Isolde looked back at Grayson.


    “This is thest time,” she said. “Keep that monster you call a son away from my daughter. If I see him near her again, I won’t just call awyer. I will destroy everything you think you own.”


    She turned on her heel.


    “Isolde!” Grayson called after her. There was a tremor in his voice. A crack in the armor.


    She didn’t stop. She walked away, her back straight, her wet sneakers squeaking on the floor.


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