Chapter 137:


    Grayson watched her go. The blue box sat open on the seat beside him, a mocking mouth. With a roar of frustration, he snatched it and hurled it at the partition window. It struck the reinforced ss with a dull, pathetic thud that only amplified his impotence. The sapphire bounced off the dashboard and disappeared into the dark footwell, forgotten.


    “Drive,” he snarled at Liam. “Just drive.”


    Isolde’s phone buzzed as she stepped back into the lobby. It was And.


    “Change of ns for the G tonight. InnoTech just announced they’re presenting. Cheryl Juarez is going to be there.”


    Isolde stopped walking. A cold smile touched her lips.


    “Perfect,” she whispered.


    She typed back: I need a dress. Something that says I didn’te to y.


    Then she turned around and walked back out, hailing a cab. She wasn’t going back to theb. She was going to Bergdorf’s.


    She found it in the back of the showroom — a column of liquid gunmetal silk. Not red, the color of passion and rage she had worn before. This was the cold, unyielding color of a weapon. It had a high neck and long sleeves, but the back plunged dangerously low, framing the scars she usually kept hidden.


    “It’s a bit aggressive,” the sales assistant murmured.


    Isolde ran her hand over the fabric. It felt like armor.


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    “I’m not looking for polite,” Isolde said. “I’m looking for inevitable.”


    The Tech Innovators G was the kind of event where the air smelled of money and desperation in equal measure.


    Everyone knew. The Sophia reveal, the divorce filing, the Instagram scandal — it was a perfect storm, and every person in the room was aware of it.


    Grayson stood near the bar, nursing a scotch he didn’t want. His tuxedo fit perfectly, but he felt as though his skin was too tight. Beside him, Belle preened in a whitece gown that looked innocent enough — on her, it felt like a costume.


    “Stop fidgeting, Gray,” Belle whispered, clutching his arm. “Everyone is looking.”


    “They’re looking because you posted that photo,” he muttered.


    “I took it down!”


    “The inte is forever, Belle.”


    Cheryl Juarez swept over to them, a vision in goldmé and aggressive ambition. “Grayson, darling. Chin up. Tonight is about the future. Wait until they see the InnoTech presentation. We’re going to bury Orbital.”


    Grayson nodded absently, his eyes drifting to the entrance. He was waiting. He didn’t know what for — only that a maic tension kept pulling his gaze back to the massive ss doors.


    Then the room went quiet.


    It began as a ripple near the entrance, a hush that spread outward like a wave until the only sound was the delicate clinking of silverware.


    And Roth walked in. He looked striking in a midnight blue tuxedo, but no one was looking at him.


    They were looking at the woman on his arm.


    Isolde Carson.


    She was wearing silver — not a sparkling, festive silver, but a deep, liquid gunmetal that seemed to absorb the light and return it as pure, cold power. The silk clung to her body like a second skin, tracing curves Grayson had long forgotten she possessed. Her hair was swept up, exposing the long, elegant line of her neck.


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