Chapter 183:
“Ow! Let go!” He struggled against her grip.
Isolde held firm. He yelped and twisted, and as he fought against her, a few strands of his dark hair came away in her clenched fist. Without breaking her stride or her expression, she tucked her hand into her cardigan pocket — the fine hairs a small, sharp promise against her palm.
She marched him down the hallway. The security cameras tracked their progress.
She reached the double doors of the master suite.
She didn’t knock. She leaned on the doorbell and held it down.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
“Go away!” Grayson’s muffled voice came from inside.
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Isolde kept her finger on the button.
Finally, the door ripped open.
Grayson stood in a white silk dressing gown, his hair damp, his chest flushed. There was a fresh scratch mark on his neck.
Isolde shoved Kaiden toward him.
“Here,” she said. “Your son needs a bath.”
Grayson stumbled back as Kaiden collided with his legs. He looked from the boy to Isolde, his eyes wide, and pulled thepels of his dressing gown tighter — instinctively trying to hide the scratch on his neck.
“Isolde,” he stammered. Kaiden was supposed to be asleep.
“Your son says you and ‘Belle Mommy’ are busy,” Isolde said, her voice cutting cleanly through the humid air of the hallway. “And that I now work for you.”
“Gray? Who is it?”
Belle appeared behind him in a silk slip — a cruel near-replica of one Isolde owned, the kind of detail that could only be deliberate. Her hair was tousled. She saw Isolde and went still.
Isolde took them in. The adulterous tableau. It should have hurt. It should have destroyed her.
All she felt was nausea.
“You told him I was his nanny?” Isolde asked Belle.
Belle recovered herposure with a slow smirk. “Well, you certainly have the exhausted look down.”
“Isolde, calm down,” Grayson said, stepping forward. “Kaiden is just a child. He repeats things he doesn’t understand.”
“He understands ‘Mommy,''” Isolde said. “He understands that you two are in there while I am down the hall.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the key to her guest room.
She threw it at Grayson’s feet.
“We’re done,” she said.
Grayson frowned. “What? You’re leaving the retreat? Don’t be childish.”
“I’m done with the retreat. I’m done ying a part in your pathetic theater. I’m done being the cover story. I’m done with you.”
“You can’t just leave,” Grayson said, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “The investors — the optics —”
“Watch me,” Isolde said. “Remember this moment, Grayson. This is thest time you will ever see me give a damn.”
She turned and walked away.
“I want bubbles!” Kaiden screamed, kicking Grayson’s shin.
Belle pulled Grayson back into the room. “Let her go, Gray. She’s bluffing. She has nowhere to go.”
Grayson stared at the guest room key lying on the carpet. He stared at Isolde’s retreating back. A cold knot settled in his stomach.
.
.
.