Chapter 151:


    Belle gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes with impressive speed. “That’s horrible. I would never — I just love Kaiden. I’m only trying to help!”


    Grayson stepped between them, positioning himself in front of Belle. “Enough. Isolde, you are being paranoid and cruel. Look at her — she’s crying. Apologize.”


    Isolde stared at him. This man, who had once promised to protect her, was now demanding she apologize to his mistress for the theft of her own life.


    “Apologize?” Isolde repeated. “I’d rather rot in hell.”


    She turned on her heel and walked toward the door.


    “Isolde!” Grayson’s voice cracked like a whip. “If you walk out that door right now, don’t bothering back to the penthouse. I mean it.”


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    Isolde stopped.


    She stood in the doorway, her back to all of them.


    “If you leave now,” Grayson continued, his voice carrying the easy arrogance of a man who had never been told no, “I will consider it abandonment. You are forfeiting your title as Mrs. Lancaster.”


    Isolde turned around slowly. A smile spread across her face — not a happy smile, but the smile of a prisoner who has just found a loose brick in the wall.


    “Grayson,” she said softly. “You finally said something smart.”


    She reached into her oversized tote bag and produced a thick, folded document. The edges were slightly worn — she had been carrying it for days.


    She walked back to him and pressed it firmly against his chest.


    “Sign it,” she said. “Now.”


    The papers slid down his shirt and scattered across the floor. Grayson looked down. The bold letters at the top screamed up at him: MOTION FOR AN EMERGENCY CUSTODY HEARING AND TEMPORARY RESTRAINING ORDER.


    The room went silent. Even Kaiden stopped chewing.


    Belle stared at the papers, her eyes widening. A sh of pure, unmasked joy crossed her face before she arranged her expression into something resembling shock.


    “Isolde!” Belle cried. “Don’t be rash. A restraining order? Think about the scandal — think about the family!”


    Isolde pointed a finger at Belle. “Drop the act. This is your victoryp. Take it. He’s yours. The trash, the lies, the ego — all of it is yours.”


    Grayson’s face flushed a mottled red. He felt exposed. Humiliated. A nurse was already peering in from the hallway. He bent down, snatched up the papers, and tore the stack in half — then in half again. He threw the pieces at her feet.


    “You want a fight?” he snarled. “You don’t get to dictate the terms. You will walk away with nothing — no alimony, no assets — and you will give up custody of Effie.”


    Isolde’s eyes went t and cold. “You are dreaming. Effie is my line in the sand.”


    “She has Lancaster blood,” Grayson said. “Do you really think a judge will award custody to a woman who has abandoned her family for a high-pressure job with a notorious bachelor like And Roth? I will bury you in legal fees, Isolde. I will paint you as an unstable, absentee mother and make you destitute.”


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