Chapter 156:


    “With one hand and a better brain,” Isolde said. “I’ll use voice-to-text on myptop, and Effie will check my math. We’re going to embed Orbital technology into Carson Dynamics’ framework. We’re going to pivot.”


    That night, the dining room table disappeared beneath a sea of papers. Isolde dictatedplex technical specifications in a low, steady voice, pausing only when the pain spiked too sharply to ignore. Effie sat beside her, scanning the financial projections with quiet concentration.


    “This line goes down,” Effie said, tracing a revenue graph with her finger. “It should go up.”


    “Why?” Isolde asked.


    “Because the blue part matches the yellow part better,” Effie said.


    Isolde looked. In her own instinctive way, Effie had identified that the supply chain cost reduction would boost the margin — a connection the projection had failed to capture.


    ??????n????n?? ?о???????? o? ?????????????ls.c??m


    “You’re right,” Isolde whispered. With her clumsy left hand, she adjusted the form.


    By three in the morning, the presentation was finished. It was not merely a plea for money. It was a roadmap to war.


    The waiting room of Henderson Capital was all ss and chrome, designed to make visitors feel small.


    Isolde sat on a stiff leather bench wearing a new, impably tailored navy suit. The fabric was severe, the lines sharp — a stark contrast to the heavy white cast on her right arm. It wasn’t an outfit. It was armor.


    Ellyn sat beside her, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.


    “We’ve been here two hours,” Ellyn whispered. “He’s not going to see us.”


    “He will,” Isolde said. “He has to.”


    The elevator doors pinged open.


    Laughter spilled into the lobby.


    Isolde looked up. Her stomach dropped.


    Henderson walked out first — a short, balding man with a fake tan. nking him were the Lancasters. Grayson looked tired, dark circles shadowing his eyes, though he was as impably dressed as ever. Belle clung to his arm in a Chanel suit that screamed new money. Cheryl Juarez was on his other side,ughing at something Henderson had said.


    They were heading toward the VIP conference room.


    “Oh, look,” Belle said loudly, her voice cutting through the lobby like a de. “Is that Isolde? What a surprise.”


    Grayson stopped. He turned. His eyes found Isolde, then dropped to her cast.


    He flinched. A flicker of guilt — or simply annoyance.


    “What are you doing here?” Grayson asked, his voice cold.


    Isolde rose. “I have an appointment. Or I did, two hours ago.”


    Henderson regarded her with thinly veiled disdain. “Ms. Carson. My apologies, but I’m afraid I’m tied up with Mr. Lancaster’s new venture.”


    “Venture?” Isolde stepped forward. “Or hostile takeover?”


    Cheryl moved in front of Henderson. “Watch it, little girl. We’re closing a deal. InnoTech is acquiring a new partner.”


    “Is that so?” Isolde looked at Grayson. “You’re investing in apany whose entire strategy is corporate sabotage?”


    “Go home, Isolde,” Grayson said, his voice heavy with fatigue. “You’re embarrassing yourself. This is out of your league.”


    “My league is a hundred-billion-dor defense contract,” Isolde replied. “What’s yours?”


    “Security!” Henderson called out.


    A burly guard stepped forward. “Ma’am, you need to leave.”


    .


    .


    .