Chapter 191:


    Her phone vibrated on the table. A text from Ellyn: Union rep is here. They’re threatening to strike if we don’t guarantee wages by Friday.


    If she took this consulting role — diving deep into a new andplex project — Carson Dynamics would copse within a week. Grayson would pick over the carcass, buying the patents for pennies on the dor. Her mother would be left with nothing. Her uncle Saul would die watching his life’s work destroyed.


    She looked at the envelope. Freedom. Respect. The sky.


    She looked at the phone. Duty. Family. The mud.


    Isolde pushed the envelope back across the table.


    “I can’t,” she said. Her voice was steady, but her heart was breaking.


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    Vance frowned. “Isolde. Opportunities like this don’te twice. You’re choosing chaos over greatness.”


    “I’m choosing loyalty,” Isolde said. “My family is under attack. I can’t desert them.”


    Vance sighed and took the envelope back. “We’ll hold the position for two weeks — because Nelson insists. But after that, the door closes.”


    “Thank you,” Isolde whispered.


    She watched him leave. Then she stood. She had to fix this. Now.


    She walked out of the coffee shop and hailed a cab. “Lancaster Tower.”


    Twenty minutester, she stood before the ss monolith that Grayson called his headquarters. She used to walk in here and be greeted like royalty.


    She approached the front desk. The receptionist was new — young and bored.


    “I’m Isolde Lancaster. I need to see Grayson Lancaster,” Isolde said, her voice firm.


    The girl didn’t look up from her nails. “Do you have an appointment?”


    “My ess card should still be active,” Isolde said coolly. “Just tell him I’m on my way up.”


    The girl typed something, her eyes widening slightly. “Mr. Lancaster is in a meeting. He can’t be disturbed.”


    “I’m not here for a social call,” Isolde said, her voice dropping. “This is a time-sensitive financial matter concerning the Lancaster Trust. You can either let me up, or you can exin to Beatrice Lancaster why a board-level issue was dyed by your manicure.”


    The girl’s face went pale. She fumbled with her keyboard. “One moment, Mrs. Lancaster.”


    Isolde didn’t wait. She strode toward the executive elevators, herposure a weapon. The receptionist didn’t dare stop her.


    She reached the top floor. Liam, Grayson’s executive assistant, intercepted her as the doors opened. He looked harried.


    “Mrs. Lancaster?” he asked. “What are you doing here? He’s — he’s in a meeting.”


    “Is he?” Isolde asked, her eyes moving over the empty office behind him. “Or has he been out of the building for thest three hours?”


    She wasn’t asking. She was stating — a calcted guess designed to put him on the defensive.


    Liam nced back toward the empty corner office, then back at Isolde.


    “He’s not here, ma’am,” Liam admitted quietly. “He left at two.”


    Isolde felt the blood rush to her head. She turned to look out the panoramic window at the city below.


    “And the receptionist was instructed to lie?” she said.


    Liam shifted ufortably. “He’s at the InnoTech facility. For the ribbon cutting.”


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