Chapter 184:


    He closed the door.


    Isolde walked back to her room and pulled out her phone.


    “And,” she said when he answered.


    “Isolde?”


    “Release the statement. Carson Dynamics is seeking new partners. And call Arthur Stone — tell him to file the papers. Everything. The divorce, the custody, the fraud.”


    “Are you sure? This is war.”


    “I’m sure.” She nced at her cardigan pocket, where the strands of hair were tucked away. “I have the ammunition.”


    She hung up. Then she crossed the room and gently woke Effie.


    “Baby, we’re going on an adventure,” she whispered. “Just you and me.”


    They left the estate ten minutester, slipping out into the night and leaving behind the lies, the luxury, and the man who had lost them both.


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    The final luncheon of the retreat was meant to be the highlight. Beatrice Lancaster, the matriarch, had flown in by helicopter to give her blessing to thepany’s new direction.


    She sat at the head table, rigid and imposing. Grayson sat to her right. Belle sat next to him.


    Beatrice looked at the empty chair to Grayson’s left.


    “Where is Isolde?” she asked, her voice sharp. “And my great-granddaughter?”


    Grayson cleared his throat. “She wasn’t feeling well. She went back to the city early.”


    Beatrice narrowed her eyes. “Unwell? Or driven away? I taught you to recognize value, Grayson. Don’t tell me you’ve misced your most significant asset.”


    At the podium, Professor Nelson tapped the microphone.


    “Before we conclude,” Nelson said, his voice carrying across the room, “I want to make a special toast. To the brilliant mind behind the new navigation protocols that will save thispany millions. To the true architect of the Phoenix project — Isolde Carson.”


    The room erupted in apuse.


    Beatrice’s head snapped up. Her gaze held no surprise — only cold, precise calction. She locked eyes with Grayson. “The architect? You told me she was a coborator. You neglected to mention she was the foundation.”


    Grayson shifted in his seat, feeling sweat trace a slow line down his back.


    “She contributes,” he muttered.


    “Contributes?” Nelson had stepped down from the podium and was making his way to the table. “Grayson, where is she? I have the contract from the Institute ready for her review.”


    “She’s not here,” Grayson said through his teeth.


    Nelson looked genuinely disappointed. “A pity. You are a fortunate man, Grayson. A wife with a mind like that is a rare treasure.”


    Beatrice turned to Grayson. The message in her eyes was unambiguous: Isolde was no longer a decorative fixture. She was a strategic asset — one he had just lost.


    “You let a genius of this caliber slip through your fingers,” Beatrice said, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper meant for his ears alone. “She was not an asset to be controlled. She was the future of this family. And you threw it away. Get her back. Now.”


    “Grandmother, I don’t think —”


    “Call her. Now.”


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