Chapter 43:


    No, he told himself. Impossible. Isolde was currently sulking in some cheap hotel, probably crying over old photo albums. She couldn’t calcte thermal loads. She couldn’t code.


    He watched “Sophia” disappear into the backstage exit.


    “Daddy?”


    Grayson looked down. He realized he wasn’t holding anyone’s hand. He was alone.


    Backstage, Isolde ripped the mask off her face. She gasped for air, her skin flushed.


    “Mommy, why didn’t you talk to Daddy?” Effie asked, looking up with confused eyes.


    Isolde knelt down. She brushed a stray hair from Effie’s forehead. “Because the Daddy you knew doesn’t listen to words, baby. He only listens to winning.”


    Nelson limped over, leaning on his cane. “Sterling is asking for your number. He’s offering a remote consultant position. Six figures. Anonymous.”


    Isolde stood up. “Tell him I’ll take it.”


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    “Good girl,” Nelson grunted.


    They walked toward the loading dock where And’s car was waiting. Grayson was waiting by the exit ramp. He had intercepted And.


    “Roth,” Grayson barked. “You’re her agent? Who is she?”


    And leaned against his car, a smug smile ying on his lips. “She’s a ghost, Grayson. Someone you created.”


    “Stop the riddles,” Grayson snapped. “Name a price.”


    “She’s not for sale,” And said. He opened the door for the masked woman approaching them. “And certainly not to you. You had your chance with real talent, and you traded it for a pretty face.”


    Isolde slid into the car. She didn’t look at Grayson.


    As the car drove away, Grayson stood in the exhaust fumes, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach.


    Someone you created.


    The words echoed in his head, ominous and unclear.


    The next morning, the financial news cycle was a bloodbath.


    SKYLINE HUMILIATED: MYSTERY ENGINEER “SOPHIA” EXPOSES SAFETY FLAWS. LANCASTER STOCK DIPS 5% AFTER ISSDC DEBACLE. WHO IS SOPHIA? THE NEW QUEEN OF AEROSPACE.


    Grayson paced his office. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of a city that suddenly felt like it wasughing at him.


    “Find her!” he roared. He threw a stack of files onto the conference table.


    Daron flinched. “We’re trying, boss. Her IP addresses are bounced through three different continents. It’s military-grade encryption.”


    “I don’t care if she’s routing through the Pentagon!” Grayson shouted. “Hire hackers. Hire PIs. I want a name.”


    Belle was nowhere to be seen. She had called in sick, iming a migraine. Grayson knew she was hiding from the board members who were calling for her resignation.


    His personal phone rang on the desk. He picked it up, expecting hiswyer.


    It was a reminder. Dinner at Per Se. 7:00 PM.


    The anniversary.


    He stared at the phone. In the chaos of thepetition, he hadpletely forgotten. Today was the day. Five years.


    He rubbed his face. Isolde.


    He hadn’t spoken to her since the park. She was probably waiting for him to call, to apologize, to fix things. That was the pattern. He messed up, she got quiet, he bought something nice, she forgave him.


    He dialed her number.


    It rang. And rang. And rang.


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