Chapter 133:


    He turned slowly to face Belle.


    “You posted it,” he said. His voice was dangerously low — a rumble of thunder before the strike.


    Belle sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “What?”


    Grayson crossed the room and thrust the screen in front of her face. “I told you to keep it in the room. I told you not to wear it outside. And you put it on the inte?”


    Belle shrank back against the headboard. “I set it to Close Friends only. I just wanted my friends to see—”


    “Your ‘Close Friends’ include gossip columnists and Daron McKnight,” Grayson said, his restraint snapping. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You handed Isolde the perfect weapon on a silver tter. You unted stolen property and gave her every legal and moral justification to storm in here and take it back by force.”


    “It’s not stolen!” Belle cried. “You gave it to me!”


    “And she took it back,” Grayson said, the image of Isolde ripping the brooch from Belle’s dress burning in his mind. “She took it back. And she was right.”


    “She assaulted me!” Belle shrieked. “She’s a thief! Call the police, Gray. Make her bring it back!”


    Grayson looked at her. Really looked at her. Her face was blotchy, her eyes swollen — but there was no remorse. Only a petty, vindictive greed. She didn’t care about the dissertation she had destroyed. She didn’t care about the legacy she was tarnishing. She cared only about the shiny green stone she could no longer wear.


    “The police?” Grayson let out a short, humorlessugh. “If I call the police, Belle, they’ll be arresting you. Federal charges. Spoliation of evidence. Or did you forget that you confessed on video?”


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    Belle’s mouth snapped shut. Her face went pale.


    “Kaiden!” she wailed, deflecting. “Kaiden,e to Mommy!”


    The boy came running from the hallway, clutching the remote to his broken drone. He looked between the two adults, sensing the shift in the room.


    “Bad Daddy!” Kaiden yelled, stomping his foot. “Stop yelling at Mommy!”


    Grayson looked down at the boy he had imed, the boy he had protected. For the first time, he didn’t see a vulnerable child. He saw a mirror of Belle’s entitlement — a spoiled, angry little stranger.


    A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, heavy and suffocating.


    “Clean this up,” Grayson said, his voice emptied of emotion. “Get the ss off the floor.”


    “But my clothes…” Belle whimpered, gesturing toward the balcony.


    “Leave them.” He turned his back on her. “I’m going to the office. Don’t call me.”


    He walked out of the room, Belle’s renewed sobbing fading behind him as he moved down the hallway. Each step felt like wading through mud.


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