Chapter 150:


    When she reached the VIP floor, the corridor was quiet. She walked to Room 402.


    The door was ajar. Just a crack.


    Soft, intimateughter drifted through the gap.


    Isolde stopped. She moved closer and peered through the narrow space between the door and the frame.


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    Belle sat on the edge of the bed, a spoon in hand, blowing gently on steaming congee. Grayson stood directly behind her, his hand resting casually on her shoulder.


    “Careful, it’s hot,” Belle cooed. “Gray, test it for me?”


    Grayson leaned down and took a small sip from the spoon Belle held up. Their faces were inches apart. It was a level of domestic intimacy Isolde hadn’t shared with him in years.


    “Perfect,” Grayson said softly.


    Belle fed the next spoonful to Kaiden. The boy swallowed it eagerly.


    “Yum!” Kaiden beamed. “Belle Mommy makes the best food. Isolde’s food tastes like pig slop.”


    The wordsnded like a physical blow. Pig slop. The organic purees she had made from scratch. The soups she had simmered for hours when he had the flu.


    “Now, now,” Belle said, her voice dipping into theatrical sweetness. “Don’t be mean. Auntie Isolde tries her best. It’s just — well, since she started at Orbital, she’s so focused on her career. Some women are simply built for the boardroom, you know?”


    Grayson sighed, stroking Kaiden’s hair. “I wish she had half your patience, Belle. Half your warmth.”


    Isolde’s hand found the door handle. Her knuckles turned white.


    “Gray,” Belle said, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial murmur, “I’m worried about Isolde. She seems so unstabletely. Maybe she needs a break? I could move into the penthouse for a few weeks — just to help with Kaiden’s recovery. He needs stability.”


    Grayson hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s appropriate—”


    “I want Belle!” Kaiden shouted, sensing the hesitation at once. “I don’t want the bad woman! If shees back, I’ll hold my breath until I die!”


    Grayson’s resolve copsed instantly. “Okay. Okay, buddy. Calm down. We’ll make it work. For you.”


    Isolde felt bile rise in her throat. For the child. The universal excuse for their betrayal.


    She didn’t knock. She didn’t announce herself. She shoved the door open.


    It mmed against the wall with a force that made everyone flinch.


    Grayson spun around. Belle dropped the spoon. It ttered into the bowl.


    Isolde walked into the room without looking at either of them, crossed directly to the bedside table, and snatched her keys.


    “Isolde?” Belle stammered, rising quickly. “You’re back? Where’s the breakfast?”


    Isolde turned slowly. She looked at Belle, then at Grayson.


    “I didn’t buy any,” she said, her voice stripped of all emotion. “It looks like he’s already being fed.”


    Grayson frowned. “What is that attitude? Belle is doing us a favor.”


    “A favor?” Isoldeughed — a harsh, jagged sound. “Grayson, are you blind, or just stupid? She’s auditioning for my role, and you just gave her the part.”


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