Chapter 63:


    “Suspended?” Belle shrieked, jumping to her feet. “He’s five! This will ruin his transcript for prep schools!”


    “It’s better than expulsion,” the Headmaster said firmly. “Which is what the bws demand.”


    Grayson raised a hand to silence Belle. “Fine. Two weeks.”


    Belle red at Isolde. If looks could kill, Isolde would have been ash.


    “You did this,” Belle hissed. “You ruined him.”


    “You ruined him,” Isolde corrected. “I just turned on the lights.”


    The meeting adjourned. The board members filed out, carefully avoiding eye contact with Belle.


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    As Belle passed Isolde, she leaned in close. “You think you won? Wait until the world knows the truth. Wait until they know whose blood really runs in that boy’s veins. If that secretes out, Effie loses everything.”


    Isolde stopped. She turned her head slowly. “Are you threatening to reveal your own affair? To reveal that Kaiden is a child born while Grayson was still married to me?”


    Belle flinched. She saw the trap closing around her. Revealing the truth would hurt her far more than anyone else in the room.


    “Watch your back,” Belle whispered weakly, then stormed out.


    Grayson remained. “Isolde. Wait.”


    “Talk to mywyer,” Isolde said, reaching for the door handle.


    “It’s about Beatrice,” Grayson said.


    Isolde’s hand paused.


    “She saw the livestream,” Grayson said. “She wants to see Effie. Tomorrow. At the Estate.”


    “No,” Isolde said immediately. “I’m not taking her into that snake pit.”


    “Grandma is dying, Isolde,” Grayson said quietly. “You know that. And she respected you. She respected the role you yed as a Lancaster.”


    It was true. Beatrice Lancaster was a hard woman, but she had always respected Isolde’sposure and dignity — even if she had never fully approved of her background. And she was the only one who had ever sent Effie a birthday card.


    “She holds the keys to the Education Trust,” Grayson added. “If Effie is the winner, that money belongs to her. It’s millions, Isolde. For her future.”


    Isolde narrowed her eyes. “You’re bribing me?”


    “No,” Grayson said. “I’m trying to do one right thing today. Bring her. Tomorrow.”


    Isolde thought of the trophy in Effie’s hand. Can I show this to Great-Grandma?


    “Fine,” Isolde said. “But on my terms.”


    The parking lot was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun.


    Isolde walked Effie to her car — a sensible, safe Volvo she had bought with her consulting money. Grayson was leaning against his Maybach. Belle sat in the passenger seat, wearing sunsses, deliberately looking away.


    “Tomorrow. Ten AM. I’ll send a driver,” Grayson said.


    “No driver,” Isolde said. “I drive myself. And I have conditions.”


    “Name them.”


    “First,” Isolde said, pointing at the Maybach, “she doesn’te.”


    Belle whipped her head around. She lowered her sunsses. “Excuse me?” she snapped.


    “I won’t have Effie breathing the same air as the woman who tried to frame her for cheating,” Isolde said calmly. “If Belle is there, we turn around at the gate.”


    Grayson looked at Belle, then at Isolde. He knew Beatrice couldn’t stand Belle anyway.


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