Chapter 126:


    The old man fixed Grayson with a stare of pure disgust. “You are a disgrace. You cannot manage your own vices, let alone apany.”


    He snapped his fingers. The butler, Higgins, stepped forward carrying a thick cream envelope. Alistair slid it across the table toward Effie.


    “For the girl,” Alistair grunted. “An education trust, independent of the Lancaster estate. Grayson cannot touch it. I cannot touch it. It is irrevocable.”


    Isolde looked at the envelope. It was guilt money. It was hush money.


    She took it.


    “Thank you,” Isolde said. “Consider it a down payment for the damages. She’ll need it.”


    “Isolde.” Grayson rose from his chair, swaying slightly. “Please. Don’t go like this. We can work out a settlement — thewyers don’t need to be involved.”


    “Thewyers are already involved, Grayson,” Isolde said. “And the press. And the Department of Defense.”


    She took Effie’s hand.


    “Goodbye, Alistair. Try not to let him burn the house down before you die.”


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    She turned and walked out.


    The heavy front doors stood open. Sunlight fell clean and sharp across the wet pavement, and Isolde stepped through the doorway and drew a long, slow breath of cold morning air.


    She was free.


    The driveway was lined with vans.


    As Isolde’s car — the one And had sent — crawled through the gates, the press surged forward.


    “Ms. Carson! Ms. Carson!”


    “Is the rumor of a split with Lancaster true?”


    “What does your identity as Sophia mean for Skyline?”


    Isolde put on her sunsses. She did not roll down the window. She simply stared ahead, her face a mask of perfect indifference.


    Inside the estate, the mood was funereal.


    Alistair sat in his study. Grayson stood before him like a schoolboy called to ount. Alistair mmed a letter down on his desk — it bore the letterhead of Orbital Systems’ legal department.


    “I received this an hour ago. A formal demand for the return of your grandmother’s brooch. They im it is a family heirloom of the Carsons, not the Lancasters. Is this true?”


    Grayson’s blood ran cold. And was moving faster than he had anticipated. “It’s…plicated.”


    “Find it and give it back to her,” Alistair said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “That woman is dangerous. She is building a narrative, and right now we look like thieves. Do not give her any more ammunition.”


    Grayson nodded numbly and walked out.


    He headed toward the staircase, intending to find Belle and retrieve the brooch.


    Belle was sitting on the steps, weeping softly into a tissue. She looked up when she heard him approach.


    “Gray,” she sniffled. “Is she gone?”


    “Yes.”


    Belle stood. She read the grimness on his face at once.


    “Gray…st night was awful. You were screaming in your sleep. I was so scared.”


    “I’m sorry,” Grayson muttered, his mind already elsewhere. “Belle, the brooch. I need it back.”


    Belle’s tears stopped instantly. Her face hardened. “What? Why? You gave it to me.”


    “My grandfather is demanding I return it. Legally, she has a im —”


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