Chapter 73:


    He truly believed it. Or rather, he had to. He had built his entire world on the foundation of her being lesser.


    “You need rest,” Grayson said, his voice dropping an octave, turning authoritative. “Not a job fetching coffee for men who actually know math. Drink the juice.”


    He stepped closer, looming over her. The smell of his expensive cologne was suffocating. Isolde felt a wave of nausea — not from the drink, but from the sheer weight of his arrogance.


    “I said no,” she stated.


    Grayson’s face hardened. “You are testing my patience. Do you realize that without me, you can’t afford that juice? You can’t afford the cup it’s in.”


    Isolde let out a short, sharp breath. She reached out and took the ss.


    Grayson smiled, smug satisfaction settling across his shoulders. He thought he had won.


    Isolde turned and walked into the ensuite bathroom. Grayson watched from across the room, expecting her to drink it by the sink.


    Isolde leaned over the toilet and inverted the ss.


    The green sludge poured out in a thick, glooping stream and disappeared into the water. She flushed. The roar of the drain was the only sound in the room.


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    “What the hell are you doing?” Grayson roared, rushing to the doorway.


    Isolde turned and held the empty ss up to the light. “Detoxing,” she said. “It went exactly where it belonged.”


    Grayson lunged and grabbed her shoulder. His fingers dug into her flesh.


    Isolde didn’t struggle. She looked at his hand, then up at his eyes. Her gaze was perfectly still and absolutely lethal.


    “Let go,” she whispered. “Effie is in the next room.”


    The mention of his daughter made him flinch. His grip loosened just enough.


    Isolde shoved him backward. He stumbled out of the bathroom. She mmed the door and twisted the lock.


    “You will regret this!” Grayson shouted through the wood. “When you fail at that joke of a job ande crawling back, don’t expect me to be generous!”


    Isolde pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the mirror. She looked at her own reflection. Her eyes were bright. Alive.


    “Just watch me,” she whispered.


    Grayson paced outside the bathroom for a minute, muttering curses, before finally stomping away.


    Isolde waited until the footsteps faded before unlocking the door.


    Effie was standing by the bed, clutching her teddy bear so tightly its head was distorted. Her eyes were huge.


    “Mommy? Why is Daddy yelling?”


    Isolde knelt and pulled her into a hug. “Daddy is just having a tantrum. Like when you don’t get your way. But he’s a grown-up, so it’s louder.”


    “I want to go home,” Effie whispered. “To the small house.”


    “We’re going,” Isolde promised. “Right now.”


    She finished packing in record time. She zipped the suitcase, grabbed her purse, and opened the bedroom door.


    Grayson was leaning against the frame, arms crossed. He had been waiting.


    “Going somewhere?” he asked. “The driver is off today. Sunday.”


    “I have my car,” Isolde said, moving to push past him.


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