Chapter 21:


    Grayson sat at the head of the table. He looked powerful,manding. Belle was to his right, leaning in close, whispering something in his ear. He smiled at her—a genuine, warm smile. He patted her hand on the table.


    The board members nodded in agreement. They looked like the perfect power couple.


    Isolde stopped.


    Grayson looked up. His eyes met hers through the ss.


    His smile vanished. He half-rose from his chair, his mouth forming her name.


    Isolde reached up to herpel. She unclipped her visitor badge—the one that said Isolde Lancaster — Guest.


    She held his gaze.


    She dropped the badge into the trash can next to the ss wall.


    She didn’t throw it with anger. She dropped it with indifference. Like it was a used tissue.


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    Grayson’s face darkened. He looked furious. He looked… scared.


    Belle followed his gaze. She saw Isolde. She smirked and waved a manicured hand.


    Isolde didn’t react. She turned and walked to the elevator.


    As the doors closed, she pulled out her phone.


    To: And Roth Message: I’m free. Let’s build the Phoenix.


    She felt lighter than she had in years. The ss wall hadn’t just separated her from them; it had protected her from their pollution.


    It was 9:00 PM when Grayson returned to the penthouse.


    The apartment was dark.


    “Isolde?” he called out, loosening his tie. “I’m home. Where’s dinner?”


    Silence.


    He frowned. Usually, the smell of roast chicken or pasta would greet him. Usually, Effie’s toys would be scattered on the rug.


    The rug was empty. The air smelled of lemon polish and nothingness.


    He walked into the kitchen. The counters were bare. No note. No food.


    “Isolde!” he yelled, annoyance rising. “Stop this childish game!”


    He marched to the master bedroom.


    The bed was made with military precision.


    On his pillow sat a thick man envelope.


    Next to it sat the five-carat diamond ring he had kicked across the foyer floor days ago. Someone—the maid—must have ced it there.


    Grayson picked up the envelope. He ripped it open.


    Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.


    He stared at the words. They looked foreign.


    Petitioner: Isolde Carson. Respondent: Grayson Lancaster. Grounds: Irreconcble Differences.


    He flipped to the asset division page.


    Petitioner requests sole physical and legal custody of minor child, Effie Lancaster. Petitioner waives all rights to spousal support, alimony, and marital assets.


    She wanted nothing.


    She just wanted out.


    Graysonughed. It was a hollow sound in the empty room.


    “She’s bluffing,” he said aloud. “She has to be. She has no money. She has nowhere to go.”


    He threw the papers onto the bed.


    He pulled out his phone. He opened his banking app. He navigated to the credit card controls.


    Isolde — tinum Card. Isolde — ck Card.


    He hit Suspend.


    “Let’s see how independent you are when you can’t buy groceries,” he muttered. “And the moment you try, the declined transaction will ping your location. You can’t hide from me, Isolde.”


    He walked into Effie’s room.


    It was stripped. The closet was open, hangers bare. The bed was just a mattress.


    On the floor, in the corner,y a single piece of a broken propeller. A remnant of the ne Isolde had smashed.


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