Chapter 29:


    Isolde nodded. “Do it.”


    Harper typed on her tablet.


    The divorce proceedings between Isolde Carson and Grayson Lancaster have officiallymenced. Ms. Carson requests privacy as she focuses on her daughter and her return to her career in aerospace engineering.


    “Send,” Isolde said.


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    Across town, in the SkyLine office, Grayson’s phone pinged. He was in a meeting with Daron. He nced at the notification.


    Isolde Carson Official Statement…


    He read it.


    Return to her career.


    He frowned. Career? What career? He knew about her past, the raw talent she had before they met, but five years was an eternity in this field. She had no resources, nob, no team.


    “She’s delusional,” Daronughed, reading over his shoulder. “Does she think baking cookies is engineering?”


    Grayson didn’tugh. He felt a strange unease in his gut. The Isolde he knew would have begged. She would have written a long, emotional letter about how much she loved him.


    This was cold. This was business.


    “Belle,” Grayson called out.


    Belle walked in. “Yes, darling?”


    “Did Isolde ever… work? Before me?”


    Belle rolled her eyes. “Grayson, we’ve been over this. The official background check our PR team ran for the divorce proceedings confirms it. She dropped out of some localmunity college. She tinkered with engines in her father’s garage. She’s a hobbyist, at best. Don’t let her get in your head.”


    Grayson nodded. Right. A hobbyist. Still, he couldn’t shake the memory of theplex aerodynamic sketches she used to leave on napkins, sketches that looked remarkably simr to the early drafts of the Phoenix project.


    “Ignore it,” Grayson said, tossing the phone on the desk.


    But he kept staring at the screen.


    In the hallway of the engineering building at Columbia University, Isolde walked down the corridor, holding Effie’s hand.


    And Roth walked beside them, checking his watch.


    “He’s in a mood today,” And warned. “Funding cuts.”


    “Nelson is always in a mood,” Isolde said.


    They reached the end of the hall. Room 304. The door was open.


    Inside, an old man with hair like Einstein’s nightmare was aggressively erasing a ckboard. Chalk dust filled the air like smoke.


    “Professor?” And said.


    Professor Eldridge Nelson turned around. He squinted.


    “Roth,” he grunted. Then his eyes slid to Isolde.


    He froze.


    “Well,” Nelson said, tossing the eraser onto a desk. “If it isn’t the runaway bride.”


    Isolde swallowed. “Hello, Professor.”


    “Five years,” Nelson said. He walked toward her, his limp pronounced. “You had the best aerodynamic intuition I’d seen in a decade. And you quit to marry a trust fund baby.”


    The words stung. Isolde didn’t flinch. “I made a mistake.”


    “A mistake is forgetting a decimal point,” Nelson snapped. “You threw away a gift.”


    “I’m back,” Isolde said. “I need a sponsor for the ISSDC. I need to enter as an independent.”


    Nelsonughed. It was a dry, hacking sound. “You think you can just waltz back in? Engineering moves fast, Carson. Five years is a lifetime. You’re obsolete.”


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