Chapter 23:


    “Isolde,” she hissed, her smile tight and fake. “What are you doing here? This is a professional event. Did you sneak in?” She waved at a security guard. “Excuse me! This woman doesn’t have an invite.”


    The guard walked over. He looked at Isolde. He looked at the cknyard around her neck.


    He straightened up and nodded respectfully. “She has All-ess clearance, Ms. Escobar. Level One. It’s a direct credential from the FAA liaison for the event. My hands are tied.”


    Belle’s jaw dropped. “What? Who gave you that?”


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    “Apetitor who appreciates talent,” Isolde said smoothly.


    Grayson pushed past Belle. He grabbed Isolde’s elbow—then remembered her warning and quickly let go.


    “You are here to cause a scene,” he used. “You want to ruin myunch.” His eyes flickered to thenyard. Strategic Consultant? The title sent a jolt of unease through him. Roth didn’t hand out those credentials to socialites. It meant something. Something he didn’t know.


    “I’m here to watch,” Isolde said. “I want to see what you’ve built.”


    “It’s revolutionary,” Grayson said, puffing out his chest. “Belle designed it herself.”


    Isolde looked at Belle. Belle shifted ufortably, smoothing her dress.


    “Is that so?” Isolde asked. “Impressive.”


    “Just… sit down and be quiet,” Grayson snapped. “And keep Effie away from the press.”


    Isolde looked down at Effie. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get a front-row seat.”


    She led Effie past them, straight to the VIP section reserved for industry titans. She sat down right in the center, directly in Grayson’s line of sight. She crossed her legs. She waited.


    The lights dimmed. Dramatic music—something with heavy bass and violins—filled the hall.


    Spotlights swirled around the covered object on the stage.


    “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer boomed, “the future of aviation. The SkyLine Phoenix-X7!”


    The tarp was pulled away.


    The crowd gasped.


    It was a drone. A sleek, predatory machine with forward-swept wings and a unique, dual-intake engine configuration. It was beautiful.


    It was also exactly what Isolde had drawn on a napkin five years ago in a diner in Mojave.


    Effie tugged on Isolde’s sleeve.


    “Mommy,” she whispered loudly. “That looks like your drawing. The one in the blue notebook.”


    Isolde put a finger to her lips. “Shh. Watch.”


    Belle walked onto the stage. She held a microphone. She looked confident, but Isolde noticed the slight tremor in her hand.


    “Thank you,” Belle said. “When I designed the Phoenix, I wanted to capture the essence of rebirth. I spent months in the wind tunnel, refining these curves.”


    Isolde reached into her pocket. She pressed Record on her phone.


    “The forward-swept wings,” Belle continued, gesturing to the screen behind her, which showed wireframe diagrams. “They provide instability for maneuverability. It was a… a risky choice, but my intuition told me it would work.”


    A reporter in the front row raised a hand. “Ms. Escobar! How did you ovee the aero-stic divergence issuesmon with forward-swept wings at supersonic speeds?”


    Belle froze. She blinked.


    “The… divergence?” she repeated.


    “Yes. The structural stress. Did you use carbon nanotubes or aposite weave?”


    Belle looked at Grayson. Panic red in her eyes.


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