Chapter 19:


    “Save your doctor for your son,” she said. “He’s the one who’s sick in the head. We’re going to urgent care for stitches.”


    The doors closed, sealing them in.


    As the elevator descended, Isolde hugged Effie tight.


    “It’s over,” she promised. “We are nevering back here.”


    Isolde drove straight to Long Ind. She needed a safe harbor, and the only ce left was her childhood home.


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    The house, once a stately Victorian, looked tired. The paint was peeling. Thewn was overgrown.


    Her mother, Ellyn Briggs, opened the door. She looked ten years older than thest time Isolde had seen her. Her eyes were red-rimmed.


    “Isolde?” Ellyn gasped. Then she saw Effie’s bandaged leg. “Oh my god, what happened?”


    “Grayson happened,” Isolde said grimly. “Can wee in?”


    Inside, the house was freezing. Isolde noticed the thermostat was set to 55 degrees.


    “The furnace is acting up,” Ellyn lied, pulling a shawl tighter around her shoulders.


    Isolde saw the pile of envelopes on the dining table. Final Notice. Foreclosure Warning. IRS.


    “Mom,” Isolde said softly. “Tell me the truth.”


    Ellyn crumbled. She sank into a chair and put her head in her hands.


    “It’s over, Izzy. Carson Dynamics is finished. The bank is calling the loans next week. We can’t pay the suppliers. They hiked the prices by 40% overnight.”


    Isolde frowned. “40%? That’s impossible. Unless…”


    She walked to the table. She picked up a supplier invoice.


    InnoTech Supply Solutions.


    Isolde’s eyes narrowed. She knew that name. It was a shellpany. A subsidiary of a holding group owned by Cheryl Juarez.


    Belle’s mother.


    Isolde felt the pieces click into ce. It wasn’t just bad luck. It was an assassination.


    “Where are the books?” Isolde asked.


    “What? Honey, you don’t know how to read corporate ounts. You took some art history sses at thatmunity college.”


    That was the lie Isolde had told everyone to hide her past as Valkyrie.


    “Just show me,” Isoldemanded.


    Ellyn opened herptop.


    Isolde sat down. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She pulled up the spreadsheets. She cross-referenced the dates.


    It was brutal. Grayson had been shorting Carson Dynamics stock through a proxy. Simultaneously, Belle’s family had bought out the suppliers and squeezed the margins. They were bleeding her mother dry to force a bankruptcy sale, probably so SkyLine could buy the patents for pennies.


    “Those bastards,” Isolde whispered.


    She excused herself, walking into the cold kitchen with her burner phone. She found a number in her encrypted contacts.


    “Saul,” she said when the man answered. “It’s me. I need a favor.”


    “Phantom? Holy hell, I thought you were dead.”


    “Not dead. Just married. Listen, I need you to supply Carson Dynamics. Raw materials, at cost plus five. Can you do it?”


    “For you? I’ll do it at cost. What’s the catch?”


    “The catch is my name stays out of it. You’re doing it as a favor to an old family friend of the Briggses. Got it?”


    “Loud and clear. Consider it done.”


    She hung up and walked back into the dining room.


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