Chapter 72:


    “That girl,” the old woman muttered. “She has more spine than the lot of youbined.”


    Grayson felt the heat climb up his neck. He gripped his knife until his knuckles turned white.


    Back in the guest room, the air was peaceful. Isolde ordered grilled cheese and tomato soup for Effie.


    Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.


    She picked it up. An email notification.


    Sender: And Roth Subject: Official Offer — Orbital Systems


    Isolde opened it. The contract was attached. The sry was substantial. The title read: Chief Engineer — Special Projects.


    The message body contained only four words: Wee back, Valkyrie.


    A lump formed in Isolde’s throat. She stared at that name. It had been years since anyone had called her that — a name from a life she thought she had buried.


    She forwarded the document to Harper with a brief note: Legal review ASAP.


    Harper’s reply came back in under a minute. Already done. He sent me a draft yesterday. It’s clean. Sign it.


    C??ine??e ??ov?????? ???????????????????? о?? ?????????????????.????m


    With Harper’s blessing, Isolde tapped the screen and executed her digital signature.


    Sent.


    Effie looked up from her coloring book. “Mommy? Are we moving again?”


    Isolde looked at her daughter. “Yes, baby. But this time, we’re moving up. To a ce where no one can make us feel small.”


    From downstairs, the sound of shattering ss echoed up through the venttion shaft. Grayson had finally lost his temper.


    Isolde smiled.


    Sunday morning. Isolde was packing. The suitcasey open on the bed, half-filled with Effie’s clothes.


    The door swung open without a knock.


    Grayson stood there, holding a ss filled with thick, dark green sludge.


    Isolde didn’t look up from folding a sweater. “Knocking is a courtesy, Grayson. Try it sometime.”


    Grayson walked into the room, ignoring her. He thrust the ss toward her. “Drink this. It’s a detox blend. Spirulina and kale. You’ve been erratic. Emotional. It’s clearly a hormonal imbnce.”


    Isolde stared at the ss. It was the ssic y. Gaslighting 101. If she was angry, she must be sick. If she had boundaries, she must be unstable.


    “I’m not sick,” Isolde said. “I’m divorced. There’s a difference.”


    Grayson’s eyes wandered to the desk, where herptop sat open. The screen saver was active, but the Orbital Systems logo bounced across the ck background.


    He snorted and picked up theputer. “Orbital? And’s little toypany? Don’t tell me you actually took a job there. You think ying engineer for a few months will make you feel important? Don’t be ridiculous, Isolde. I know exactly what you’re trying to do. You think putting on ab coat makes you Valkyrie?”


    Isolde snatched theptop from his hands. “I’m an engineer, Grayson. A chief engineer.”


    Graysonughed — a genuine, incredulous sound, though it carried a frantic edge of denial. He was trying to convince himself as much as her.


    “Chief of what, the coffee machine? Please, Isolde. Don’t embarrass yourself. You spent thest five years nning gs. Let’s not pretend you remember what a differential equation is.”


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