《Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable》 Chapter 1 Chapter 1: Isolde sat in the dark, listening to the silence of a house that no longer held her daughter¡¯s heartbeat. She just gripped Effie¡¯s hand. It was so cold. Effie was only five. Five-year-olds were supposed to be warm, sticky with juice. They weren¡¯t supposed to be cold. ¡°Time of death, 8:42 PM. Cause:plications from acute pneumonia leading to cardiac arrest.¡± The doctor¡¯s voice was t. Professional. Isolde¡¯s knees hit the linoleum. She fumbled for her phone, fingers shaking so violently that she dropped it twice before she managed to unlock the screen. Grayson. She dialed his private number. ??isc????e?? ??§Ö?? ??????r?????? ??n ???????????§Ö??s.c§à?? It rang once. Twice. Declined. A secondter, a text message buzzed against her palm. In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling. Isolde stared at the screen. The white letters on the gray background blurred. Five miles away, the crystal flutes at the Lancaster Charity G chimed like delicate bells. Grayson Lancaster adjusted his silk tie, his expression the perfect mask of bored affability. He stood near the chocte fountain, watching Belle Escobar dab a smudge of fondant from six-year-old Kaiden¡¯s cheek. ¡°You¡¯re spoiling him,¡± Grayson said, though the corner of his mouth ticked up. It wasn¡¯t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing to warmth he¡¯d shown all evening. Belleughed, the sound light and practiced. ¡°Someone has to. Where is thedy of the house? I thought Isolde was bringing Effie tonight.¡± Grayson¡¯s face hardened. The warmth evaporated. ¡°She¡¯s being dramatic. Effie had a fever or something. Isolde uses the girl¡¯s health as an excuse to avoid these events. She knows I hate it when she sulks.¡± ¡°Poor thing,¡± Belle murmured, though her eyes were already scanning the room for photographers. ¡°She really struggles with the pressure, doesn¡¯t she?¡± ¡°She struggles with everything,¡± Grayson muttered, taking a sip of his champagne. Back at the hospital, the nurse handed Isolde a stic bag. Inside were a pair of small pink socks and a hair clip shaped like a butterfly. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster,¡± the nurse said softly, pity etching fine lines around her eyes. ¡°Is¡­ is your husbanding? For the transport arrangements?¡± ¡°He¡¯s busy,¡± Isolde whispered. She walked out into the New York night. It was pouring rain. She didn¡¯t have an umbre. She didn¡¯t call a driver. She just walked. The water soaked through her cheap wool coat. The cold rain mixed with the hot tears she finally allowed to fall, masking them. She reached the penthouse two hourster. The apartment was dark. Silent. On the mantle sat a framed photo¡ªthe ¡°family¡± portrait. Grayson sat in a leather chair, Kaiden on hisp. Belle stood behind them, her hand resting familiarly on the chair back. Isolde was in the background, slightly out of focus, holding a blurring Effie. She sat on the floor in front of the cold firece, shivering. It was past midnight when the elevator chimed. Grayson walked in, bringing with him the scent of rain and Belle¡¯s signature perfume¡ªsandalwood and roses¡ªinto the stagnant air. He loosened his tie, his eyes narrowing when he saw Isolde sitting in the dark, soaking wet. ¡°For God¡¯s sake, Isolde,¡± he snapped, tossing his keys onto the console table. ¡°What are you doing? Ruining the hardwood floors?¡± Isolde didn¡¯t look up. She was staring at her hands. ¡°Where is Effie?¡± he asked, his tone clipped. ¡°I assume she¡¯s asleep? Or did you leave her with the nanny so you could sit here and feel sorry for yourself?¡± ¡°She¡¯s gone,¡± Isolde said. Grayson sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°Gone to sleep? Good. I don¡¯t have the energy for her crying tonight. Or yours.¡± He walked past her toward the master bedroom. He didn¡¯t see the stic bag on the floor. ¡°Grayson,¡± she said. He paused at the door without turning around. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± she whispered. He mmed the door. Isolde sat in the dark, listening to the silence of a house that no longer held her daughter¡¯s heartbeat. . . . Chapter 2 Chapter 2: The funeral was small. Pathetic, really. Three dayster, a steady drizzle wept over the private cemetery in Queens. There was no press, no Lancaster associates. Just Isolde, the priest, and two members of the household staff who had liked Effie enough to show up. Grayson wasn¡¯t there. His assistant had emailed Isolde that morning. Emergency board meeting regarding the Asian market expansion. Mr. Lancaster sends his regrets. Isolde watched the small white casket being lowered into the ground. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it. It buzzed again. And again. She pulled it out, thinking it might be the hospital with some final paperwork. It was an Instagram notification. Belle Escobar had tagged Grayson Lancaster. Location: The Hamptons Golf Club. ??????d ?????? ??????e??t ??????n???? §à?? g??????????????s.????m The photo showed Grayson mid-swing. In the background, Kaiden was holding a set of miniature golf clubs,ughing. Belle was holding a mimosa. The caption read: Sometimes you just need a mental health day with the boys. Isolde stared at the screen until the pixels burned into her retinas. A mental health day. While his daughter was being buried in the mud. She didn¡¯t scream. The part of her that could scream had died in the ICU. She went home. The penthouse was quiet. Grayson was still gone. Isolde walked into Effie¡¯s room. It still smelled like baby powder andvender. She began to pack. Clothes into boxes. Toys into bags. The drawings from the fridge. The toothbrush from the bathroom. The front door opened around 6 PM. Grayson walked in. He stopped in the hallway when he saw the pile of boxes. ¡°Finally,¡± he said, loosening his polo shirt. ¡°I¡¯ve been telling you to clear out that clutter for months. We can turn that room into a proper study for Kaiden now.¡± Isolde stood still, holding a man envelope. She walked over to him. ¡°Sign this,¡± she said. Grayson nced at the envelope. ¡°What is it? Another bill for her specialists? I told you, just send it to ounting.¡± ¡°Just sign it.¡± Her voice was hollow. Grayson rolled his eyes and took the pen she offered. He didn¡¯t even read the header. He scrawled his signature¡ªGrayson Lancasterrge and looping, the signature of a man who owned the world. ¡°There,¡± he said, tossing the envelope back onto the console. ¡°Done. Now, Belle got that promotion to VP today. We¡¯re hosting a dinner tonight. Tell Mrs. Higgins to prepare something impressive. And try to look¡­ less like a corpse.¡± Isolde took the signed papers. She didn¡¯t answer. She walked to the terrace doors. ¡°Where are you going?¡± Grayson called out, already heading toward the kitchen. Isolde stepped out into the cool evening air. She had built a fire in the decorative fire pit earlier. She held the wedding album over the mes. The fire licked up the sides, curling the photos. She watched her own smiling face from five years ago turn ck and crumble to ash. She picked up the teddy bear. The one Effie slept with every night. She dropped that in too. ¡°Isolde?¡± Grayson was standing at the ss doors, a ss of water in his hand. He looked confused. He sniffed the air. ¡°What are you burning?¡± he asked, sliding the door open. ¡°It smells like burning stic.¡± Isolde turned to look at him. Her eyes were voids. ¡°Trash,¡± she said. ¡°Just trash.¡± Grayson frowned. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest, a tightness he couldn¡¯t exin. He rubbed his sternum. ¡°Stop being weird. Get dressed for dinner.¡± He went back inside. Isolde watched him go. Then she turned back to the fire. The bear was gone. The photos were gone. She walked back into the kitchen, opened the cab above the sink, and took down the bottle of prescription sleeping pills¡ªthe ones the doctor had given her for her ¡°nerves.¡± She poured a ss of water. She walked to the guest bedroom, the one she had been sleeping in for thest year. She sat on the edge of the bed. She swallowed the first pill. Then the second. Then the handful. Shey back, crossing her hands over her chest. I¡¯ming, Effie, she thought. Wait for Mommy. . . . Chapter 3 Chapter 3: The first thing Isolde felt was weight. A crushing, suffocating weight on her chest. She gasped, her body jerking violently as air rushed into her lungs. Her eyes snapped open. She wasn¡¯t in the guest bedroom. She was standing up. Disorientation mmed into her. The smell of smoke and ash was gone, reced by the cloying scent of expensive lilies and¡­ Santal 33. Grayson¡¯s cologne. Orchestral music sted her ears. Vivaldi. A waiter bumped into her shoulder. ¡°Pardon me, Mrs. Lancaster.¡± Isolde stumbled, catching her reflection in a mirrored pir. She was wearing a blue silk dress¡ªthe dress she had burned in the fire pit. Her hair was done up in an intricate chignon. Her face¡­ her face looked younger. Tired, yes, but the hollow, skeletal look of thest three days was gone. ????§Ö ???????? ??§à??????§Ñ?? ??????????s on ??§Ñ??????????????.c??m She touched her cheek. Warm. She looked up. A massive banner hung across the ballroom ceiling. HAPPY 5TH BIRTHDAY KAIDEN & Effie The second name was there, but it was an afterthought, printed in a script so small and delicate it was nearly swallowed by the grand, bold letters of her brother¡¯s name. Her birthday too, and they¡¯d made her name a footnote. Isolde¡¯s heart stopped. Then she pulled out her phone. The date. It was exactly one year ago. The room spun. She gripped the pir for support. Hallucination? Purgatory? Hell? ¡°Isolde!¡± The voice was sharp. Impatient. Grayson walked toward her. He looked the same¡ªimpably dressed, handsome, and annoyed. But there was a difference. He didn¡¯t have the slight gray at his temples he¡¯d had at the funeral. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± he hissed, keeping his voice low so the guests wouldn¡¯t hear. ¡°You¡¯re standing there gaping like a fish. Belle needs help with the cake cutting.¡± Belle Escobar appeared at Grayson¡¯s elbow, radiant in a red gown that cost more than Isolde¡¯s car. She held out a napkin. ¡°Oh, Isolde,¡± Belle said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. ¡°Did you spill something? You look so pale.¡± Isolde stared at them. Then she saw it. A sh of movement near the dessert table. A small girl in a in white dress, trying to reach a cookie. Effie. Isolde didn¡¯t think. She shoved past Grayson, her shoulder checking him hard enough to make him stumble. ¡°Isolde!¡± he barked. She ignored him. She dropped to her knees in front of the girl. Effie turned, her eyes wide and fearful. She flinched, expecting to be scolded for touching the sweets. ¡°Mommy?¡± Effie whispered. Isolde grabbed her. She pulled her daughter into a hug so tight she could feel Effie¡¯s small ribs pressing against her own. Warmth. A heartbeat. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was the most beautiful sound in the universe. Tears exploded from Isolde¡¯s eyes¡ªnot the silent weeping of the funeral, but loud, gasping sobs of relief. She buried her face in Effie¡¯s neck, breathing in the baby shampoo, the sweetness of her skin. ¡°You¡¯re here,¡± Isolde choked out. ¡°You¡¯re here.¡± The music seemed to stop. Guests were staring. The crazy wife, crying on the floor at a birthday party. Grayson was there in a second. He grabbed Isolde¡¯s upper arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. ¡°Get up,¡± he snarled into her ear. ¡°You are making a scene. Stop this hysteria immediately.¡± Isolde froze. She felt the heat of his hand on her arm. The hand that had signed the divorce papers without looking. The hand that had held a golf club while their daughter was being buried. Slowly, Isolde raised her head. She looked at Grayson. She stood up, keeping one hand on Effie¡¯s shoulder. Then she looked at Grayson¡¯s hand on her arm. ¡°Let. Go.¡± Grayson blinked, taken aback by the icymand in her tone. ¡°Isolde, don¡¯t start¡ª¡± Isolde reached up with her free hand. She grabbed his fingers. With a sharp, practiced twist she hadn¡¯t used in six years¡ªmuscle memory from a life he knew nothing about¡ªshe peeled his hand off her arm. She didn¡¯t just remove it. She threw it back at him. Grayson stumbled back a step, shock stered across his face. Isolde straightened her spine. She smoothed her dress. ¡°I said,¡± she repeated, her voice carrying across the silent pocket of the room, ¡°do not touch me.¡± . . . Chapter 4 Chapter 4: The silence in the ballroom was heavy, thick with the kind of tension that makes rich people nervous. Grayson stared at his own hand, flexing the fingers Isolde had just twisted. His face was flushing a deep, angry red. ¡°You are drunk,¡± he used, stepping forward again. ¡°Security¡ª¡± ¡°I am not drunk,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was calm. Terrifyingly calm. She looked around the room. She saw the judgmental stares of the Manhattan elite. She saw Belle, clutching Kaiden¡¯s hand, looking like the victim of Isolde¡¯s madness. Isolde smiled. She walked toward the small stage where the microphone stood for the toasts. ¡°Isolde, stop!¡± Grayson hissed, pursuing her. She stepped up onto the tform. She tapped the microphone. SCREECH. The feedback pierced the room. Everyone flinched. The jazz band stopped ying. ??§Ñ??es?? §ãh??p??????? §àn ????????????§Öl?.????m Isolde held the mic. She looked down at the crowd. She looked directly at Belle. ¡°Thank you all foring to celebrate Kaiden¡¯s fifth birthday,¡± she began. Her voice was steady, magnified by the speakers. ¡°I have a special gift for the birthday boy,¡± she continued, gesturing to where Belle stood with the boy. ¡°I realized something today. A child needs his mother. His real mother.¡± A ripple of whispers went through the crowd. Belle went pale. ¡°For five years,¡± Isolde said, locking eyes with Grayson, ¡°I have yed the role of the dutiful wife and the loving stepmother. I have organized the parties, hired the nannies, and smiled for the photos.¡± She took a step closer to the edge of the stage. ¡°But I think it¡¯s time we stop pretending. Belle¡ª¡± she pointed a finger at the woman in the red dress, ¡°¡ªyou know Kaiden¡¯s favorite color. You know his allergies. You know him better than anyone. Because you should.¡± ¡°What is she saying?¡± someone whispered loudly. ¡°Is she implying¡­?¡± Isolde dropped her hand. ¡°I am officially stepping down as the unpaid manager of the Lancaster household. Grayson, Belle¡­ you two look like a wonderful family. I won¡¯t stand in your way anymore.¡± Grayson looked like he had been struck by lightning. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Isolde ced the microphone back on the stand. It clunked heavily. ¡°Happy Birthday, Kaiden,¡± she said. She walked off the stage. She didn¡¯t look back. She walked straight to Effie, who was watching with wide, awe-filled eyes. ¡°Come on, baby,¡± Isolde said, taking Effie¡¯s hand. ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± She marched toward the exit. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, terrified of her energy. Grayson snapped out of his shock. He signaled to the tworge security guards by the double doors. ¡°Stop her!¡± he roared. The guards stepped in front of Isolde, crossing their arms. They were big men, hired for intimidation. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster,¡± one said, ¡°Mr. Lancaster asked you to stay.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t slow down. ¡°Move,¡± she said. ¡°I can¡¯t do that, ma¡¯am.¡± The guard reached out to block her path. Isolde didn¡¯t think. The self-defense drills from her racing days¡ªmeant for escaping a crash or a kidnapping¡ªcame back in a sh of muscle memory. The ¡°Valkyrie¡± programming, buried under five years of domestic submission, surged forward. She stepped into the guard¡¯s space. She grabbed his extended wrist, used his own momentum against him, and applied pressure to the ulnar nerve while sweeping his leg. It was subtle, fast, and brutal. The 250-pound man buckled, stumbling to one knee with a grunt of pain. The second guard flinched, stepping back in surprise. Isolde stepped over the kneeling guard. She didn¡¯t even look at him. Grayson had caught up. He stared at the guard on the floor, then at Isolde. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± he demanded. ¡°Since when do you know¡ª¡± ¡°There is a lot you don¡¯t know about me, Grayson,¡± Isolde said. Kaiden ran up, holding a piece of half-eaten cake. He saw Effie. ¡°You¡¯re stupid!¡± Kaiden yelled, throwing the cake. It missed Effie, sttering against Isolde¡¯s expensive blue dress instead. Frosting and crumbs slid down the silk. In the past, Isolde would have apologized. She would have tried to clean it up. She would have cried. Now, she just flicked a crumb off her chest. She looked at Kaiden with absolute indifference. Not hate. Just¡­ nothing. ¡°Goodbye, Kaiden,¡± she said. She pushed the heavy doors open and walked out into the foyer. . . . Chapter 5 Chapter 5: Grayson chased her into the marble foyer. The heavy doors swung shut, muffling the sounds of the stunned party guests. ¡°You are insane!¡± Grayson yelled, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. He grabbed her arm again, spinning her around. ¡°You just humiliated me in front of half of Wall Street! You go back in there and apologize to Belle right now!¡± Isolde looked at his hand. Again. ¡°I told you,¡± she said, her voice dropping an octave, ¡°not to touch me.¡± She didn¡¯t use force this time. She just looked at him with such intense loathing that he instinctively let go. She raised her left hand. The five-carat diamond solitaire sparkled under the chandelier. It was heavy. It had always been heavy. ¡°You think this owns me?¡± she asked. ¡°Stop the drama, Isolde. It¡¯s a negotiation tactic, I get it. You want a higher allowance? You want that vacation house in Aspen? Fine. Just fix this.¡± Isoldeughed. It was a dry, sharp sound. ¡°You really don¡¯t see me, do you? You never have.¡± ??????? ?????? ??o????????????? ???? ?????????vels.?????? She gripped the ring. It was tight. Her finger had swollen slightly from the adrenaline. She twisted it hard, scraping the skin over her knuckle. She yanked it off. She held it up between two fingers. ¡°Here,¡± she said. She dropped it. Ping. The ring hit the marble floor. It bounced once, spun rapidly with a high-pitched whirring sound, and settled near Grayson¡¯s polished dress shoes. ¡°I want a divorce,¡± she said. Grayson stared at the ring, then up at her. Heughed, but it sounded nervous. ¡°Divorce? You signed a pre-nup, Isolde. You leave with nothing. No alimony. No assets. You¡¯ll be on the street.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want your money,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I don¡¯t want the house. I don¡¯t want the cars. I don¡¯t want anything that has your name on it.¡± She pulled Effie closer. ¡°I just want her.¡± Grayson sneered. ¡°And go where? Your mother¡¯s failingpany? You have no job. You have no skills. You¡¯re a housewife, Isolde. You won¡¯tst a week.¡± Belle came bursting through the doors, breathless. ¡°Gray! The investors are asking questions,¡± she said. She looked at Isolde, her eyes widening at the sight of the ring on the floor. ¡°Oh, Isolde,¡± Belle cooed, stepping closer. ¡°Please, don¡¯t do this. We¡¯re all just tired. Let¡¯s go upstairs. I¡¯ll make you some tea¡­¡± Isolde looked at Belle. She looked through her. ¡°He¡¯s all yours, Belle,¡± Isolde said. ¡°No returns.¡± She turned to the valet stand. The valet was holding the keys to the Mercedes SUV. ¡°I don¡¯t need the car,¡± Isolde said to the confused boy. She pulled out her phone. She had downloaded the Uber app while walking through the hallway. ¡°You¡¯re taking a taxi?¡± Grayson scoffed. ¡°With my daughter? Like amoner?¡± ¡°I¡¯m taking a ride I paid for,¡± Isolde corrected. ¡°And she¡¯s my daughter. You haven¡¯t looked at her in three years.¡± ¡°I¡¯m freezing your credit cards,¡± Grayson threatened, stepping forward. ¡°Right now. You won¡¯t get a block away.¡± ¡°Go ahead,¡± Isolde said. A beat-up Toyota Camry pulled up to the curb. The driver looked confused by the luxury surroundings. Isolde opened the door. She helped Effie inside. ¡°Where are we going, Mommy?¡± Effie asked, her voice trembling. ¡°On an adventure, baby,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°A real one.¡± She got in and mmed the door. . . . Chapter 6 Chapter 6: The Toyota smelled of stale pine air freshener and old cigarettes. To Isolde, it smelled like freedom. She watched the Manhattan skyline recede through the window. She wasn¡¯t looking at the buildings; she was looking at the timeline in her head. One year. She had one year to save Effie. One year to build a fortress that Grayson couldn¡¯t breach. ¡°Mommy, I¡¯m hungry,¡± Effie murmured, leaning her head against Isolde¡¯s arm. Isolde checked her purse. She had the emergency cash stash she had sewn into the lining of her clutch years ago¡ªa habit from her days as a racer, when you always needed ¡°getaway money.¡± Two thousand dors. It wouldn¡¯tst long in New York. ¡°We¡¯re going to have a pic,¡± Isolde said. They checked into a mid-range hotel in Midtown. It wasn¡¯t the Ritz, but it was clean. The room was small, with beige walls and a view of a brick alleyway. Isolde paid in cash. ???????? ????§Ö??§å§à???? ???? r§Ö?????n?? on ????????o????????.co?? ¡°No credit card on file,¡± she told the clerk. ¡°I value my privacy.¡± Once inside, she ordered a pepperoni pizza. When it arrived, Effie looked at the greasy box with wide eyes. ¡°Daddy says pizza makes you fat.¡± Isolde felt a spike of rage. ¡°Daddy is wrong,¡± she said firmly. She handed Effie a slice. ¡°Pizza makes you happy.¡± Effie took a bite, cheese stretching. She giggled. Isolde sat at the small desk. She reached into her bag and pulled out a second phone. A burner. She had bought it from the Uber driver for $50 cash during the ride. She popped the back open and inserted a SIM card she had kept hidden in her locket for five years. She booted it up. It was an old model, clunky, but secure. She navigated to a ProtonMail login page. User: Valkyrie_X7 Password: ???????? She hit enter. The inbox loaded. It was full. Hundreds of unread messages. Sender: The Institute. Subject: Where are you? Subject: Project Phoenix needs you. Subject: Contract Offer ¡ª Level 5 Clearance. Isolde¡¯s eyes scanned the dates. They had been emailing her for five years. Back at the penthouse, the party was over. The silence was deafening. Grayson walked into the master bedroom. It was empty. The closet door was open. Isolde¡¯s clothes were still there¡ªthe gowns, the shoes. She had taken nothing. Mrs. Higgins knocked on the door frame. She looked terrified. ¡°Mr. Lancaster?¡± ¡°What?¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°I found this¡­ in the trashpactor.¡± She held up a crumpled piece of paper. Grayson smoothed it open. It was a handwritten note. I, Isolde Carson, hereby dere my intent to dissolve my marriage to Grayson Lancaster due to irreconcble differences and emotional abandonment. Grayson scoffed. He crumpled it again and threw it on the floor. ¡°She¡¯s bluffing,¡± he muttered. ¡°She¡¯ll be back when the credit card billes due. She can¡¯t survive out there. She doesn¡¯t even know how to book a flight.¡± From down the hall, a wail erupted. ¡°I want Isolde!¡± Kaiden was screaming. ¡°Mommy Belle doesn¡¯t know how to make the cocoa!¡± Grayson winced. He walked to the door. ¡°Belle!¡± he yelled. ¡°Handle him!¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± Belle¡¯s voice came back, shrill and stressed. ¡°He won¡¯t stop crying!¡± Grayson mmed the door. He walked to the mini-bar and poured a scotch. He looked at his hand. The ring finger felt light. He took a drink. It burned, but it didn¡¯t numb the strange, gnawing feeling in his gut. The feeling that he had just lost something he didn¡¯t even know he owned. . . . Chapter 7 Chapter 7: Morning sunlight hit the cheap polyester curtains of the hotel room, turning the beige walls a sickly yellow. Isolde woke with a gasp, her hand instinctively reaching for the baby monitor that used to sit on her nightstand. Her hand hit air. Panic red¡ªEffie is gone, she¡¯s dead¡ªbefore the memory of the night before washed over her. She sat up. Effie was curled up in the other queen bed, breathing deeply, a small line of drool on her pillow. Alive. ??????¡¯?? ???????? ?????? ???????????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? Isolde exhaled, her shoulders dropping. She wasn¡¯t the grieving widow anymore. She was the architect of her own escape. She got up and checked her burner phone. No new messages, but the old ones were enough. The Institute wanted her back. But going back meant exposing her identity, and exposing her identity meant Grayson would find out she wasn¡¯t just a housewife. She needed a middleman. Her old phone¡ªthe one Grayson paid for¡ªrang. It was Mrs. Higgins. Isolde stared at it. She answered on speaker, her voice cool. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Mrs. Lancaster!¡± Mrs. Higgins sounded breathless. ¡°Thank goodness. You need toe home. Kaiden refuses to eat his oatmeal. He says it¡¯s lumpy. You¡¯re the only one who knows how to make it smooth.¡± Isolde blinked. The absurdity of it almost made herugh. ¡°Mrs. Higgins,¡± Isolde said, ¡°are you employed by me or by Mr. Lancaster?¡± ¡°I¡­ well, by Mr. Lancaster, of course.¡± ¡°Then ask him to make the oatmeal,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Or ask Belle. She¡¯s the mother, isn¡¯t she?¡± ¡°But¡­ Mrs. Lancaster, please. The boy is screaming.¡± ¡°I am not the servant anymore, Mrs. Higgins. I am not the nanny. And I am certainly not Mrs. Lancaster.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± Isolde hung up. She blocked the number. She turned to see Effie sitting up, rubbing her eyes. ¡°Who was that?¡± Effie asked. ¡°Nobody,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Just a wrong number.¡± She opened herptop and navigated to a Cayman Inds banking portal. She typed in aplex alphanumeric key from memory. ount Bnce: $42,300.50. It was the remnants of her racing winnings from her days as ¡°Phantom.¡± It wasn¡¯t a fortune, but it was enough to rent a small apartment and buy time. ¡°Mommy, look.¡± Effie was holding a piece of hotel stationery. She had been drawing with aplimentary ballpoint pen. Isolde looked. It wasn¡¯t a stick figure family. It was a rocket. But it wasn¡¯t just a doodle. The proportions were surprisingly urate. The fins were angled correctly for aerodynamic stability. Isolde¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°Did you draw this, Effie?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Effie whispered, looking shy. ¡°Like the ones in your old books. The ones you keep under the bed.¡± Isolde felt a tear prick her eye. She had hidden her engineering textbooks under the bed in the guest room. Effie had found them. Effie had read them. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± Isolde said. She pointed to the nose cone. ¡°But if you want it to go really fast, this angle needs to be sharper. To cut the air.¡± Effie nodded solemnly. She took the pen and corrected the line. A perfect 30-degree angle. Isolde stared. Her daughter wasn¡¯t just ¡°slow,¡± as Grayson imed. She was a savant. ¡°Get dressed, baby,¡± Isolde said, her voice fierce with pride. ¡°We¡¯re going to find a new school. A school that knows you¡¯re a star.¡± . . . Chapter 8 Chapter 8: Isolde decided to keep Effie in her current private school for thest two weeks of the term¡ªshe had already paid the tuition for the year from her personal ount months ago. She wouldn¡¯t let Grayson¡¯s money go to waste. They arrived at the iron gates of St. Jude¡¯s Preparatory School. A sleek ck limousine pulled up. The driver opened the door. Belle stepped out, wearing oversized sunsses and a trench coat that screamed ¡°celebrity in hiding.¡± She held Kaiden¡¯s hand. Kaiden saw Effie. He broke away from Belle and ran over. ¡°Hey, stupid!¡± Kaiden yelled. Effie flinched, stepping behind Isolde¡¯s legs. ???????? o???? ??o???????????§å o?? g§Ñ??????????l??.?????? Kaiden stopped, looking at Effie¡¯s clothes. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt Isolde had bought at Target that morning, not her usual designer dress. ¡°You look poor,¡± Kaiden sneered. ¡°My daddy says you¡¯re poor now.¡± Isolde stepped forward. She didn¡¯t crouch down. She loomed over the five-year-old boy. ¡°Kaiden,¡± she said. Her voice wasn¡¯t loud, but it carried the weight of a stone b. Kaiden looked up, startled. Isolde had never spoken to him without a smile before. ¡°Your behavior is ugly,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Your clothes are expensive, but your manners are cheap.¡± Kaiden¡¯s mouth dropped open. Belle rushed over, her heels cking on the pavement. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Belle shrieked. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare speak to my son like that! You¡¯re bullying a child!¡± Isolde turned her cold gaze to Belle. ¡°Teach him manners, Belle,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Or the world will teach him. And the world doesn¡¯t use words.¡± She took Effie¡¯s hand and walked her into the building, leaving Belle sputtering on the sidewalk. After dropping Effie off, Isolde walked down the busy Upper East Side street. Her mind was racing with calctions¡ªrent, food, legal fees. She was so distracted she didn¡¯t see the maning out of the coffee shop. BAM. She collided with a solid chest. Papers flew everywhere. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± the man said, dropping to his knees to gather the scattered documents. Isolde knelt to help. She picked up arge blueprint. It was a schematic for a high-bypass turbofan engine. Her eyes scanned it automatically. It was a mess. The intake pressure ratio was all wrong. Thebustion chamber was too small. ¡°This won¡¯t fly,¡± she muttered without thinking. ¡°Thepression is off. It¡¯ll stall at 30,000 feet.¡± The man froze. His hand stopped mid-air, reaching for the paper. ¡°Excuse me?¡± Isolde looked up. She stopped breathing. It was And Roth. The CEO of Roth Aeronautics. Her old mentor¡¯s student, her senior. The man who had once called ¡°Valkyrie¡± the ¡°Athena of Aerospace.¡± And stared at her. He looked at her face, then at the way she held the blueprint. ¡°That voice,¡± he whispered. He squinted. ¡°Isolde? Isolde Carson?¡± Isolde stood up quickly and handed him the paper. ¡°I have to go.¡± She turned to run. And grabbed her wrist. Not hard, but firm. ¡°Wait,¡± he said. His eyes were wide with disbelief. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯ve been a ghost for five years. The industry thought you died.¡± ¡°I did,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I got married.¡± And looked at her cheap coat, herck of jewelry. He grinned¡ªa shark-like, predatory grin, the kind a businessman wears when he¡¯s just found gold in andfill. ¡°You look like you need a job,¡± he said. ¡°And I have a turbine that won¡¯t work.¡± . . . Chapter 9 Chapter 9: ¡°Coffee,¡± And said, steering her toward the cafe. ¡°My treat. Since you just insulted my lead engineer¡¯s work in three seconds.¡± Isolde sat in the corner booth. She felt exposed. ¡°So,¡± And said, leaning back. ¡°The great Valkyrie. Hiding in in sight as¡­ what? A Lancaster trophy wife?¡± ¡°Ex-wife,¡± Isolde corrected. And mmed his hand on the table. ¡°Finally! I hated that man. He looks like he was manufactured in a boardroom.¡± Isolde couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°He basically was.¡± And slid the schematic back to her. He pulled a pen from his pocket. ¡°Prove it,¡± he said. ¡°Prove you¡¯re still her.¡± ??oi?? ?????? ??????????n????§å ???? ??????n????e????.§ã??m Isolde looked at the paper. Her fingers itched. It had been so long since she had solved a problem that wasn¡¯t about a dinner menu or a stain on a rug. She took the pen. The world narrowed down to lines and vectors. Her hand moved with a speed and precision that made And¡¯s eyes widen. She crossed out the intake valve. She redrew thepression chamber geometry. She added a bypass duct. Five minutester, she capped the pen. ¡°There,¡± she said. ¡°Now it won¡¯t explode.¡± And stared at the drawing. He traced the lines with his finger. He let out a low whistle. ¡°You just saved me six months of R&D,¡± he murmured. ¡°And about ten million dors.¡± He reached into his jacket and pulled out a checkbook. He wrote quickly. He tore the check out and slid it across the table. Isolde looked at it. $50,000. ¡°Consulting fee,¡± And said. Isolde stared. Her hands shook. This was more money than she had seen in her own name in five years. ¡°And, I can¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Take it,¡± he ordered. ¡°I¡¯m serious. And I want to offer you a job. A ghost position. Shadow Director of Advanced Projects. No one needs to know your name. But I need your brain.¡± He leaned in closer. ¡°You know SkyLine is presenting at the Aerospace Expo next month?¡± Isolde stiffened. SkyLine. Grayson¡¯spany. ¡°Belle Escobar is presenting their new gship jet,¡± And said. ¡°The Phoenix-X7.¡± Isolde felt the blood drain from her face. ¡°The Phoenix,¡± she whispered. ¡°That was my design. My prototype. I left the files on my server when I married Grayson.¡± ¡°They¡¯re iming Belle designed it,¡± And said grimly. ¡°They¡¯re calling her the new face of aviation.¡± Isolde¡¯s hand curled into a fist on the table. They stole it. They stole her work. Her legacy. And they gave it to the woman who stole her husband. She looked at the check. Then she looked at And. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± she said. And grinned. ¡°I thought you might be. Publicly using them of theft now is just mudslinging without the original source code. But if you, the creator, unveil something better at the expo¡­ that¡¯s not just a scandal, it¡¯s a public execution. I¡¯ll get you on that stage, Valkyrie. In return, your next design belongs to me.¡± Isolde took the check. She pulled out her phone and deposited it via the banking app immediately. . . . Chapter 10 Chapter 10: Isolde spent the rest of the day in the hotel room, herptop screen glowing. She was updating her resume, but not as Isolde Carson. She created a new encrypted portfolio under the alias ¡°Sophia.¡± She uploaded the redacted files she still had on her cloud drive¡ªproof of her work on the Phoenix, proof of her patents. She felt alive. Her brain was firing on all cylinders. At 3 PM, she picked Effie up. Effie was smiling. ¡°Did anyone bother you?¡± Isolde asked, scanning the yground for Kaiden. ¡°No,¡± Effie said. ¡°Kaiden wasn¡¯t there after lunch. He went home.¡± Isolde frowned but didn¡¯t dwell on it. They went to a diner for burgers. ??§à??? ????ad ??????s ???????? ??? ???????????§Ö???.?????? Halfway through the meal, Isolde¡¯s old phone rang. She looked at the screen. St. Jude¡¯s Nurse. She hesitated. She almost let it go to voicemail. But the mother in her¡ªthe instinct that had raised Kaiden for five years¡ªmade her answer. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Mrs. Lancaster?¡± The nurse sounded frantic. ¡°Thank God. We¡¯ve been trying to reach Mr. Lancaster and Ms. Escobar for two hours. No one is answering.¡± ¡°I am not Mrs. Lancaster,¡± Isolde said automatically. ¡°Please, listen. Kaiden copsed in after-school care. He has a fever of 104. He¡¯s vomiting. He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s asking for you.¡± Isolde felt a cold hand grip her heart. She remembered Kaiden throwing the cake. She remembered him calling Effie stupid. She remembered himughing in the golf photo while Effie was being buried. ¡°Is he dying?¡± Isolde asked. Her voice was t. ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t think so. But he¡¯s terrified. We need a parent here to authorize transport if it gets worse.¡± ¡°Then find his parents,¡± Isolde said. ¡°We can¡¯t! Please, you¡¯re still on the emergency list.¡± Isolde looked at Effie, who was happily dipping a fry in ketchup. Effie, who had been ignored and bullied by that boy for her entire life. ¡°Call 911 if it¡¯s an emergency,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Call Child Protective Services if his parents are missing.¡± ¡°But Mrs. Lancaster¡ª¡± ¡°Do not call me again,¡± Isolde said. She hung up. She stared at the phone. Her hand was trembling, but she didn¡¯t call back. ¡°Who was that?¡± Effie asked, ketchup on her chin. Isolde smiled and wiped the ketchup away. ¡°Wrong number,¡± she said. At SkyLine Technologies, Grayson was in a meeting when his personal assistant burst in, face pale. ¡°Mr. Lancaster, the school called. It¡¯s Kaiden.¡± Grayson checked his phone. 15 missed calls. He rushed to the hospital. When he arrived, Belle was already there, sobbing theatrically in the waiting room, holding a tissue that was perfectly dry. ¡°Oh, Gray!¡± she wailed. ¡°The school didn¡¯t call me! They said they tried, but I had my phone on silent for the presentation!¡± Grayson ignored her. He pushed into the room. Kaiden was lying in the bed, pale and sweating. He looked small. He opened his eyes. He looked past Grayson. He looked past Belle. ¡°Where is Isolde?¡± Kaiden croaked. ¡°She always makes the soup. My tummy hurts. I want Isolde.¡± Grayson froze. He looked at the empty space beside the bed. The space where Isolde would have been. Isolde, who sat up with Kaiden when he had the flu. Isolde, who made the special broth. Isolde, who held the bucket when he threw up. She wasn¡¯t there. Grayson pulled out his phone. He dialed Isolde. Straight to voicemail. For the first time, Grayson realized that his money could buy the best doctors, but it couldn¡¯t buy the woman who actually cared. And she wasn¡¯t answering. . . . Chapter 11 Chapter 11: A whimper sliced through the stale air of the hotel room. It was a small sound, fragile. Isolde was awake before her eyes even opened. The maternal instinct honed over five years of sleepless nights needed only the distress of her child. She sat up. ¡°Effie?¡± Isolde whispered. She reached across the gap between the two queen beds. Her hand brushed Effie¡¯s forehead. She recoiled. It wasn¡¯t just warm. It was radiating heat, a dry, terrifying burn that seemed to scorch Isolde¡¯s fingertips. Isolde scrambled out of bed. She flicked on the bedsidemp. The yellow light flooded the room, revealing Effie¡¯s face. It was flushed a deep, unnatural crimson. Her small chest was heaving, rising and falling in short, shallow gasps. ¡°Mommy¡­¡± Effie moaned, her eyes squeezing shut. ¡°Cold. So cold.¡± ??§Öa?? ??it??????t i?????r??up?????????? ??n ??§Ñ?????????????.?????? Isolde grabbed the thermometer from her bag. She jammed it under Effie¡¯s arm, counting the seconds. Her own hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped it. Beep. Beep. Beep. 104.2¡ãF. Isolde felt the blood drain from her face. This wasn¡¯t a cold. This wasn¡¯t the flu. Effie had a history of respiratory issues, weak lungs from a premature birth that Grayson had always dismissed as ¡°coddling.¡± She ran to the suitcase, tearing through the zippers. Tylenol. Motrin. Anything. Empty. She had packed clothes. She had packed toys. She had packed the damn engineering textbooks. But in her haste to escape the suffocating toxicity of the penthouse, she had left the medicine cab untouched. ¡°Stupid,¡± she hissed at herself. ¡°Stupid, stupid.¡± Effie started to thrash, her voice rising in a delirious mumble. ¡°Daddy¡­ don¡¯t go. Daddy, look at me.¡± The words were a physical blow. Even in her delirium, Effie was begging for the man who hadn¡¯t looked at her in three years. Isolde ran to the bathroom, soaking a washcloth in cold water. She wrung it out and pressed it to Effie¡¯s burning forehead. Steam seemed to rise from the contact. She needed a hospital. She needed insurance information. She needed the pediatric specialist on retainer for the Lancaster family. She grabbed her phone. The screen was bright in the dim room. Grayson. She didn¡¯t want to call him. But Effie¡¯s breathing was turning into a rattle. Pride was a luxury she couldn¡¯t afford. She hit dial. It rang once. Twice. Click. The call ended. Sent straight to voicemail. Isolde stared at the screen, her vision blurring. He had declined it. He had looked at his phone, seen her name, and pressed the red button. She dialed again. Desperation wed at her throat. Pick up. Just pick up, you bastard. ¡°You have reached the voicemail of Grayson Lancaster. Please leave a message after the¡ª¡± Isolde threw the phone onto the bed. She didn¡¯t leave a message. He wouldn¡¯t listen to it anyway. He would assume she was calling toin about money, or to beg toe home. She looked at Effie. Her daughter¡¯s lips were turning a pale shade of blue. Isolde moved. . . . Chapter 12 Chapter 12: She grabbed Effie¡¯s coat and wrapped the burning child in it. She scooped Effie up into her arms. Effie was five, but she was light¡ªtoo light¡ªher growth stunted by years of stress and illness. Isolde kicked the door open and ran down the hallway. The elevator was too slow. She took the stairs, stumbling down three flights, her bare feet jamming into her sneakers at the bottom. The night air hit her like a p. It was raining again, a cold, miserable drizzle that slicked the New York streets. She pulled up the Uber app on her personal phone. Her thumb shook as she confirmed the ride. A red banner shed across the top of the screen. Payment Declined. Please update your payment method. He¡¯d done it. He¡¯d actually frozen her cards. Isolde felt a cold fury wash over her, momentarily eclipsing the panic. He had cut her off, leaving her stranded with a dying child. ¡°No,¡± she gasped, her resolve hardening. She shoved the useless phone back into her pocket and pulled out the burner. She navigated to a pre-loaded, encrypted ride-share app, one linked to a ghost ount she hadn¡¯t touched in five years. She tapped the screen. A car was three minutes away. She ran to the curb. Her arm shot out. A yellow cab was speeding down the avenue, its ¡°Off Duty¡± light flickering. ????e ???????? ??§à§â???????? n????§Öls o?? ????l??o????????.??§à?? Isolde stepped into the street, directly into its path. The brakes screeched. The car skidded on the wet asphalt, stopping inches from her legs. The driver rolled down the window, ready to scream a curse. Then he saw Isolde¡¯s face. He saw the child in her arms, limp and flushed. ¡°Mount Sinai,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was guttural. ¡°Now.¡± The driver didn¡¯t argue. He unlocked the doors. Isolde threw herself into the back seat. ¡°Go!¡± The cab surged forward. Isolde pulled Effie onto herp, rocking her back and forth. ¡°Stay with me, baby,¡± she whispered, kissing the hot, damp hair. ¡°Mommy¡¯s got you. Mommy¡¯s here.¡± Five miles away, in the VIP wing of Lenox Hill Hospital, the air smelled ofvender and sanitized wealth. Grayson Lancaster sat in a leather recliner, scrolling through emails on his tablet. The room was silent save for the hum of a high-end air purifier. In the bed, Kaiden was sleeping soundly. He had a mild stomach bug. He had eaten too much cake and gotten dehydrated. The IV drip was just a precaution, something Belle had insisted on because ¡°nothing is too good for our son.¡± Belle was sitting on the edge of the bed, peeling an apple with a silver knife. ¡°The school really needs to check their food suppliers,¡± she murmured, slicing a piece of fruit. ¡°I¡¯m going to have a word with the headmaster tomorrow.¡± Grayson didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Do that.¡± His phone buzzed on the side table. The screen lit up. Isolde (2 missed calls). He frowned. He reached for the phone. Belle nced over. Her eyes narrowed slightly. . . . Chapter 13 Chapter 13: ¡°She¡¯s persistent,¡± Belle said, popping a slice of apple into her mouth. ¡°Probably realized her credit card limit isn¡¯t as high as she thought. Or maybe she¡¯s using Effie as an excuse again. You know how she gets when she wants attention.¡± Grayson¡¯s thumb hovered over the screen. He remembered thest time Isolde had called him frantically. It had been because a pipe burst in the guest bathroom. ¡°She¡¯s just trying to leverage the situation,¡± Grayson said. ¡°She knows Kaiden is sick. She wants me to feel guilty for not being there for Effie, even though Effie is perfectly fine.¡± He pressed the power button, holding it down until the screen went ck. ¡°There,¡± he said. ¡°Peace and quiet.¡± At Mount Sinai, the automatic doors slid open. Isolde didn¡¯t wait for the cab to stoppletely. She threw a wad of cash at the partition¡ªher emergency money¡ªand bolted. ¡°Help!¡± she screamed, her voice cracking as she burst into the ER. ¡°My daughter can¡¯t breathe!¡± A triage nurse looked up, saw the cyanosis around Effie¡¯s mouth, and hit a red button under the desk. ¡°Code Blue, Pediatric ER!¡± Doctors swarmed. They took Effie from Isolde¡¯s arms. Isolde felt the loss of weight immediately, a phantom limb sensation that made her knees buckle. ¡°Ma¡¯am, you have to stay here,¡± a nurse said, guiding her to a stic chair. N??w ??????k??y ????§Ñ????e???? ??n ??§Ñl??????e??? ¡°She has pneumonia history,¡± Isolde choked out. ¡°She¡¯s allergic to penicillin.¡± ¡°We got it. Let them work.¡± Isolde sat. She stared at the swinging doors where her daughter had disappeared. Her hands were empty. They were cold. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She looked at the contact name. Husband. She stared at it until the letters blurred. He was sitting in a warm room somewhere, probably holding Belle¡¯s hand, probably worrying about Kaiden¡¯s tummy ache. He had turned off his phone while his daughter gasped for air. Isolde¡¯s thumb moved. She deleted ¡°Husband.¡± She typed in a new name. Target. Outside, thunder rolled across the city, shaking the ss of the hospital waiting room. The first few hours at Mount Sinai were a blur of beeping machines and hushed, urgent voices. By dawn, they had stabilized Effie, but a grim-faced resident pulled Isolde aside. ¡°Her oxygen saturation is still dangerously low,¡± he exined, his eyes tired but kind. ¡°Our pediatric pulmonology unit ispletely full¡ªwe¡¯ve had a surge of RSV cases. The only hospital with an open pediatric ECMO machine and a specialist on call tonight is Lenox Hill. I know it¡¯s not ideal to move her, but their equipment is state-of-the-art. It¡¯s our best shot.¡± The name hit Isolde like a physical blow. Lenox Hill. Of course. The hospital of the rich, the one the Lancasters practically owned a wing of. She would have to walk into his territory, a supplicant, for the sake of her daughter. The humiliation was a bitter pill, but she swallowed it without hesitating. ¡°Do it,¡± she said, her voice a raw whisper. ¡°Whatever it takes.¡± . . . Chapter 14 Chapter 14: The ambnce ride across town was a fresh kind of hell. Isolde sat crammed in the back, her hand clutching Effie¡¯s small, still one, watching the city lights smear into streaks through the rain-slicked windows. Every siren was a countdown timer in her head. When they finally pulled into the pristine, covered ambnce bay of Lenox Hill, the contrast was jarring. The air here didn¡¯t smell of desperation; it smelled of money and antiseptic. After getting Effie settled in a new room in the pediatric ICU¡ªa sterile, efficient space that felt worlds away from the chaotic ER at Sinai¡ªIsolde was directed to the administrative floor to handle the insurance paperwork. Numb and exhausted, she followed the signs down a hushed, carpeted corridor. She needed coffee. She needed to think about how she was going to pay for this. The deposit at Sinai had taken half her cash. She turned the corner toward the elevators and stopped dead. The VIP wing was located just past the main nurses¡¯ station, separated by frosted ss doors. One of those doors was propped open by a cleaning cart. Inside, Isolde saw a scene that looked like it had been ripped from a magazine advertisement for the perfect family. Grayson was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed. He was holding a bowl of porridge. He dipped a spoon in, blew on it gently, and held it out. ¡°Open up, champ,¡± he said. His voice was soft. Tender. Kaiden, sitting up against fluffy pillows, opened his mouth. He looked fine. His color was good. He was watching cartoons on an iPad propped up on the tray table. ?????§ã§à?????? h??d??e? ???????? o?? ????????o??????s.?????? Belle was sitting in a chair next to them, reading a fashion magazine. She looked impable, not a hair out of ce. Isolde felt the paper cup in her hand crush inward. Hot coffee spilled over the rim, scalding her thumb and forefinger. She didn¡¯t feel the burn. The pain in her chest was so much louder. Graysonughed at something Kaiden said. He wiped the boy¡¯s mouth with a napkin. Isolde stood there, frozen. He was feeding a child who had thrown cake at her. He wasforting a boy who had called his sister stupid. Meanwhile, Effie was lying alone in a room down the hall, with tubes in her nose, asking why her daddy didn¡¯t love her. Grayson turned to put the bowl down. His eyes caught movement in the hallway. He looked up. His gaze locked with Isolde¡¯s. For a second, he looked surprised. Then his expression shifted. The tenderness vanished, reced by a familiar mask of irritation. He said something to Belle, stood up, and walked briskly out of the room. He intercepted Isolde in the hallway, closing the ss door behind him to mute the sound. ¡°Are you stalking me?¡± he hissed, keeping his voice low. ¡°I turn my phone off for one night to focus on my son, and you show up here? That is a new low, Isolde.¡± Isolde looked at him. She looked at the expensive cut of his shirt, theck of dark circles under his eyes. ¡°Your son,¡± she repeated. Her voice was t. ¡°Yes, my son. Who was sick. While you were ying games.¡± Belle pushed through the door, stepping up beside Grayson. She ced a possessive hand on his arm. . . . Chapter 15 Chapter 15: ¡°Isolde,¡± she sighed, shaking her head. ¡°We know you¡¯re upset about the divorce, but following us to the hospital? It¡¯s a bit¡­ unhinged. Kaiden is fine, by the way. Just a stomach bug. You don¡¯t need to pretend to care.¡± Isoldeughed. It was a short, sharp sound, like a bark. ¡°Apologize?¡± she asked. ¡°You think I¡¯m here to apologize?¡± ¡°Lower your voice,¡± Graysonmanded. ¡°People are watching.¡± Isolde took a step back. She pointed down the long, sterile corridor, toward the general ward where the air smelled of disinfectant and despair. ¡°I¡¯m not here for you,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m here because Effie is in Room 402.¡± Grayson blinked. ¡°Effie? What are you talking about?¡± ¡°Acute pneumonia,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Respiratory failure. She stopped breathing in the taxi. She almost diedst night.¡± Grayson¡¯s face went ck. The irritation faltered, revealing a flicker of genuine confusion. ¡°What? Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± ??oi?? ??u?? ?????????????????? on ??§Ñ????§à??e??s.??o?? Isolde reached into her pocket. She pulled out her phone. Her thumb moved with cold precision, opening the call log. She didn¡¯t have to search. The records of her desperation were right at the top. She held the screen up to his face. The name on the screen wasn¡¯t hers. It wasn¡¯t ¡°Isolde.¡± It was a single, brutal word. Target. Declined. 8:42 PM. Target. Voicemail. 8:43 PM. Grayson stared at the screen. The red text was damning enough, but the contact name felt like a razor de sliding under his ribs. Target. Not a person. An objective. Something to be neutralized. The cold intentionality of it stunned him more than any shouted usation could. ¡°I did,¡± she said. Grayson stared at the red text. He remembered the buzz of his phone. He remembered Belle¡¯s voice saying, She¡¯s just being dramatic. He swallowed. The word ¡°Target¡± burned behind his eyes. ¡°I thought¡­¡± ¡°You thought I was lying,¡± Isolde finished for him. She put the phone away. ¡°You thought I was using her. Because that¡¯s what you would do.¡± ¡°Isolde, wait.¡± Grayson stepped forward, his hand reaching out. ¡°Is she okay? I need to see her.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°She is my daughter!¡± ¡°Is she?¡± Isolde tilted her head. ¡°Because five minutes ago, you were feeding soup to the boy who bullies her. You were ignoring her calls while she turned blue. You don¡¯t get to be a father only when it¡¯s convenient for your conscience.¡± Belle interjected, her voice shrill. ¡°Grayson was exhausted! You can¡¯t me him for protecting his peace!¡± Isolde turned her head slowly to look at Belle. Her eyes were devoid of emotion, like the lenses of a camera capturing a crime scene. ¡°Shut up,¡± Isolde said. ¡°You are irrelevant.¡± Belle gasped, shrinking back as if Isolde had pped her. Isolde looked back at Grayson. ¡°This is thest time,¡± she said. ¡°Keep that monster you call a son away from my daughter. If I see him near her again, I won¡¯t just call awyer. I will destroy everything you think you own.¡± She turned on her heel. ¡°Isolde!¡± Grayson called after her. There was a tremor in his voice. A crack in the armor. She didn¡¯t stop. She walked away, her back straight, her wet sneakers squeaking on the floor. . . . Chapter 16 Chapter 16: Grayson stood there, watching her go. Behind him, in the VIP room, Kaiden yelled, ¡°Daddy! I want the iPad!¡± For the first time in five years, the sound of Kaiden¡¯s voice grated on Grayson¡¯s nerves like a nail on a chalkboard. Isolde returned to Room 402. The air was heavy with the hum of the oxygen concentrator. Effie was awake. She was staring at the ceiling tiles, counting the dots. ¡°Mommy?¡± she rasped. Isolde rushed to the bedside, dropping the cold coffee. ¡°I¡¯m here, baby. I¡¯m right here.¡± Effie turned her head. Her eyes were huge in her pale face. They looked too old for a five-year-old. ¡°Mommy,¡± she whispered. ¡°Did I do something bad?¡± Isolde smoothed the hair back from Effie¡¯s forehead. ¡°No, sweetie. Never. You are perfect.¡± Effie¡¯s chin trembled. A tear slid down into her ear. ¡°Then why doesn¡¯t Daddye?¡± she asked. ¡°Why does he only like Kaiden?¡± D??????l?????? ??????s ????§Ö?? ???? ????l????????l?.?????? Isolde opened her mouth to give the standard lie¡ªDaddy is busy, Daddy loves you in his own way¡ªbut the words died in her throat. She couldn¡¯t lie anymore. Not afterst night. Effie sniffled. ¡°Kaiden told me.¡± ¡°Told you what?¡± ¡°He said¡­¡± Effie paused, looking ashamed. ¡°He said I¡¯m a ¡®bastard child.¡¯ He said that means I¡¯m a mistake.¡± The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Isolde froze. Her hand stopped stroking Effie¡¯s hair. Bastard child. Kaiden was five. He didn¡¯t know that word. He had heard it. He had heard it from Belle. Or worse, from Grayson. A cold, white rage settled in the pit of Isolde¡¯s stomach. It wasn¡¯t the fiery anger of the night before. This was something else. This was the calction of an engineer looking at a structural w that needed to be demolished. They hadn¡¯t just ignored Effie. They had been poisoning her. Isolde gripped Effie¡¯s hand. ¡°Look at me.¡± Effie looked up. ¡°Kaiden is a liar,¡± Isolde said firmly. ¡°And the people who taught him that word are liars. You are not a mistake. You are a miracle. You have a brain that can see things they can¡¯t even imagine.¡± Effie blinked. ¡°Like the rockets?¡± ¡°Better than rockets,¡± Isolde promised. ¡°You are going to be so bright that they will need sunsses just to look at you.¡± A nurse bustled in to check the IV drip. ¡°Visiting hours are starting soon. You might want to freshen up, Mom.¡± Isolde nodded. She stepped out into the hallway. She needed to do something with this rage before she screamed. She pulled out the burner phone. She texted And Roth. Isolde: I want the specs for the SkyLine exhibition. Everything. Bandwidth, power consumption, disy resolution. The reply came in ten seconds. And: You deciding to fight back? Isolde: I¡¯m going to burn them to the ground. And: Sending encrypted file now. Wee back, Valkyrie. Isolde pocketed the phone. She felt a grim satisfaction. The war had started. When she walked back into the room, Effie was sitting up. She had taken the paper wrapper from a straw and was folding it. Her small fingers moved with dizzying speed. . . . Chapter 17 Chapter 17: ¡°What are you making?¡± Isolde asked. Effie held it up. It wasn¡¯t a crane. It was aplex, multi-faceted geometric shape. A hyper-dodecahedron. ¡°It¡¯s a shape I saw in my head,¡± Effie said quietly. ¡°When I close my eyes, the numbers make shapes. It helps the scared go away.¡± Isolde stared at the paper object. It was a perfect representation of high-dimensional topology. She grabbed a napkin and a pen from the tray table. She drew aplex fractal pattern, a specific iteration of a Mandelbrot set, leaving a keyponent missing. ¡°Effie,¡± she said. ¡°If this is the pattern, whates next? Right here?¡± Effie looked at the drawing. She didn¡¯t calcte. She didn¡¯t count on her fingers. She just looked at it like she was recognizing a face. She took the pen, and with a single, steady motion, drew the next intricate, spiraling formation in the sequence, perfectly scaled and wlessly detailed. Isolde¡¯s breath hitched. It was correct. Her daughter wasn¡¯t just smart. She was a prodigy. She was a genius who used math to hide from the trauma her father had inflicted. Isolde kissed Effie¡¯s forehead. ¡°I¡¯m going to teach you magic,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°The kind of magic that builds spaceships. And we are going to fly so far away from them, they¡¯ll never touch us again.¡± ????????o?? ???? o?? g?????o??????s.????m Effie smiled. It was the first real smile Isolde had seen in years. Two dayster, Effie was discharged. Isolde drove the rental car to the penthouse. She needed to get the rest of their things¡ªEffie¡¯s nebulizer, her special orthopedic pillow, and the hard drive Isolde had hidden in the safe. She timed it for 11:00 AM on a Saturday. She knew Grayson often took Kaiden to his weekend golf lessons, but there was always a chance he¡¯d be home. She keyed in the code. The elevator opened directly into the foyer. She stepped out, holding Effie¡¯s hand. The living room wasn¡¯t empty. Grayson was sitting on the white leather sofa. Belle was next to him,ughing. And Kaiden was standing in the middle of the room, holding a massive remote control. Arge, professional-grade RC ne was buzzing around the high ceilings. It was loud, like a swarm of angry hos. ¡°Look at it go!¡± Grayson cheered, pping. Isolde stopped. She tightened her grip on Effie¡¯s hand. Effie shrank back, trying to hide behind Isolde¡¯s legs. Kaiden turned. He saw them. A nasty grin spread across his face. ¡°The bastard is back!¡± he yelled. Grayson¡¯s smile faltered. He looked at Isolde, then at Effie. He frowned slightly at his son. ¡°Kaiden, we don¡¯t use that kind ofnguage.¡± His tone was mild, the perfunctory correction of a man more annoyed by the breach in decorum than the sentiment behind the word. ¡°Isolde,¡± he said, standing up. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯de back.¡± ¡°I¡¯m here for my things,¡± Isolde said coldly. ¡°Effie, go to your room and pack your bag. Don¡¯te out until I say so.¡± Effie hesitated, eyeing the buzzing ne. . . . Chapter 18 Chapter 18: ¡°Go,¡± Isolde urged gently. Effie took a step toward the hallway. ¡°Target practice!¡± Kaiden shouted. He jammed the throttle forward. J§à??? ??u?? ??????????ni??§å ???? ??§Ñ????§à??e????.????m The ne banked sharply. It dove. Not away from Effie, but directly at her. ¡°No!¡± Isolde screamed. She lunged. But she was too far away. The ne swooped down, its carbon-fiber propeller spinning at 5,000 RPM. The hard stding gear mmed into Effie¡¯s calf, and the edge of the wing sliced across her skin. p. Effie shrieked. She fell to the floor, clutching her leg. Blood¡ªbright red and terrifying¡ªwelled up instantly from a deep gash, soaking her white sock. ¡°Bullseye!¡± Kaidenughed, jumping up and down. The sound of hisughter snapped something inside Isolde. The world went red. She didn¡¯t run to Effie first. She ran at the ne, which had crashed into the rug and was still buzzing, trying to take off again. She didn¡¯t turn it off. She stomped on it. Crunch. She stomped again. And again. stic shattered. Metal bent. The expensive electronics sparked and died. She reached down and grabbed the broken fusge. The jagged edge cut her palm, but she didn¡¯t feel it. She hurled the wreckage at the wall. It exploded into shrapnel, embedding pieces in the drywall inches from Belle¡¯s head. Belle screamed, ducking. ¡°Isolde!¡± Grayson roared, rushing forward. ¡°Are you insane? That cost two thousand dors!¡± Isolde spun around. She was panting. Her hair was wild. There was blood on her hands¡ªher own and Effie¡¯s. ¡°Look at her!¡± Isolde screamed, pointing at Effie, who was sobbing on the floor. ¡°Look at your daughter!¡± Grayson looked. He saw the blood. He paled. ¡°It¡­ it was an ident,¡± he stammered. ¡°Kaiden is just ying¡­¡± ¡°He yelled ¡®Target practice¡¯!¡± Isolde advanced on him. ¡°He hunted her. And you bought him the weapon.¡± She turned to Kaiden. The boy was still holding the remote, but his smile was gone. He looked terrified of the woman looming over him. Isolde crouched down. She got right in his face. Her eyes were ck holes. ¡°Listen to me, you little psychopath,¡± she hissed. ¡°Isolde, don¡¯t you dare threaten him!¡± Belle shrieked from the couch. Isolde ignored her. She grabbed Kaiden¡¯s wrist¡ªthe one holding the remote. ¡°If you ever,¡± she whispered, her voice trembling with lethal intent, ¡°ever touch her again¡­ I will break every toy you own. And then I wille for you.¡± Kaiden dropped the remote. He burst into tears. Isolde stood up. She walked over to Effie. She ripped the hem of her own shirt to make a bandage and wrapped Effie¡¯s leg. She picked Effie up. ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re not taking anything else.¡± ¡°Isolde, wait,¡± Grayson said. He looked at the blood on the floor. He looked shaken. ¡°Let me call the doctor. We can¡¯t let her leave like that.¡± Isolde walked to the elevator. She hit the button with her bloody hand, leaving a smear on the polished brass. . . . Chapter 19 Chapter 19: ¡°Save your doctor for your son,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s the one who¡¯s sick in the head. We¡¯re going to urgent care for stitches.¡± The doors closed, sealing them in. As the elevator descended, Isolde hugged Effie tight. ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± she promised. ¡°We are nevering back here.¡± Isolde drove straight to Long Ind. She needed a safe harbor, and the only ce left was her childhood home. ??oi?? o??r ????????????????? ???? ????l??????e???.?????? The house, once a stately Victorian, looked tired. The paint was peeling. Thewn was overgrown. Her mother, Ellyn Briggs, opened the door. She looked ten years older than thest time Isolde had seen her. Her eyes were red-rimmed. ¡°Isolde?¡± Ellyn gasped. Then she saw Effie¡¯s bandaged leg. ¡°Oh my god, what happened?¡± ¡°Grayson happened,¡± Isolde said grimly. ¡°Can wee in?¡± Inside, the house was freezing. Isolde noticed the thermostat was set to 55 degrees. ¡°The furnace is acting up,¡± Ellyn lied, pulling a shawl tighter around her shoulders. Isolde saw the pile of envelopes on the dining table. Final Notice. Foreclosure Warning. IRS. ¡°Mom,¡± Isolde said softly. ¡°Tell me the truth.¡± Ellyn crumbled. She sank into a chair and put her head in her hands. ¡°It¡¯s over, Izzy. Carson Dynamics is finished. The bank is calling the loans next week. We can¡¯t pay the suppliers. They hiked the prices by 40% overnight.¡± Isolde frowned. ¡°40%? That¡¯s impossible. Unless¡­¡± She walked to the table. She picked up a supplier invoice. InnoTech Supply Solutions. Isolde¡¯s eyes narrowed. She knew that name. It was a shellpany. A subsidiary of a holding group owned by Cheryl Juarez. Belle¡¯s mother. Isolde felt the pieces click into ce. It wasn¡¯t just bad luck. It was an assassination. ¡°Where are the books?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°What? Honey, you don¡¯t know how to read corporate ounts. You took some art history sses at thatmunity college.¡± That was the lie Isolde had told everyone to hide her past as Valkyrie. ¡°Just show me,¡± Isoldemanded. Ellyn opened herptop. Isolde sat down. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She pulled up the spreadsheets. She cross-referenced the dates. It was brutal. Grayson had been shorting Carson Dynamics stock through a proxy. Simultaneously, Belle¡¯s family had bought out the suppliers and squeezed the margins. They were bleeding her mother dry to force a bankruptcy sale, probably so SkyLine could buy the patents for pennies. ¡°Those bastards,¡± Isolde whispered. She excused herself, walking into the cold kitchen with her burner phone. She found a number in her encrypted contacts. ¡°Saul,¡± she said when the man answered. ¡°It¡¯s me. I need a favor.¡± ¡°Phantom? Holy hell, I thought you were dead.¡± ¡°Not dead. Just married. Listen, I need you to supply Carson Dynamics. Raw materials, at cost plus five. Can you do it?¡± ¡°For you? I¡¯ll do it at cost. What¡¯s the catch?¡± ¡°The catch is my name stays out of it. You¡¯re doing it as a favor to an old family friend of the Briggses. Got it?¡± ¡°Loud and clear. Consider it done.¡± She hung up and walked back into the dining room. . . . Chapter 20 Chapter 20: ¡°Mom, listen to me. Fire InnoTech immediately. A man named Saul will call you tomorrow. He runs a logistics firm in Jersey. Trust him. He¡¯ll give you raw materials at a fair price.¡± Ellyn stared at her. ¡°Saul? I don¡¯t know any Saul.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a friend,¡± Isolde said, her tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°Just do it. Second, file for a reorganization tomorrow morning. It will freeze the creditors and buy us six months.¡± ¡°But the legal fees¡­¡± Isolde reached into her purse. She pulled out a cashier¡¯s check from a nondescript credit union. $50,000. She slid it across the table. ¡°This is from a consulting gig I did a while back. It¡¯s clean.¡± ¡°This is the retainer,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Hire the sharks. We aren¡¯t going down without a fight.¡± Ellyn looked at the check. She looked at her daughter. She saw the steel in Isolde¡¯s spine, the fire in her eyes. The submissive housewife was gone. §Ñ??dic???????? ???????????s ??n ??al????vel??.??o?? ¡°Who are you?¡± Ellyn whispered. Isolde stood up. She walked to the window and looked out at the gray sky. ¡°I¡¯m the person who is going to save this family,¡± she said. Her phone buzzed. It was an email from And. Subject: VIP Pass. Attachment: ess Code for Aerospace Expo. Isolde smiled. It wasn¡¯t a nice smile. ¡°Get some heat in this house, Mom,¡± she said. ¡°We have work to do.¡± The SkyLine Technologies headquarters was a ss monolith piercing the Manhattan sky. Isolde walked in. She was wearing a simple ck suit she had bought at a thrift store, but she wore it like armor. The receptionist, a girl named Stacy who had always looked down on Isolde, didn¡¯t even stand up. ¡°Mr. Lancaster isn¡¯t in,¡± Stacy said, popping her gum. ¡°I¡¯m not here for him,¡± Isolde said. She walked past the desk to the elevators. She swiped her badge. ess Denied. Red light. Isolde smirked. Of course. He had revoked her clearance. She pressed the button for the HR floor. That was public ess. The HR manager, a woman named Linda who worshipped the ground Grayson walked on, kept her waiting for twenty minutes. When Isolde finally walked in, she didn¡¯t sit down. She threw a letter on the desk. ¡°I resign,¡± she said. Linda looked at the paper. ¡°Resign? Mrs. Lancaster, your position on the charitable board is¡­ well, it¡¯s honorary. You don¡¯t really do anything.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And I¡¯m done not doing anything. I¡¯m resigning from the board, from the trust, and from the Lancaster Foundation.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll forfeit the spousal stipend,¡± Linda warned, tapping her pen. ¡°The contract says¡­¡± ¡°I know what the contract says,¡± Isolde interrupted. ¡°use 14, Section B. Voluntary resignation waives the nonpete use for unpaid positions.¡± Linda¡¯s mouth snapped shut. She blinked. ¡°I¡¯d have to check with legal.¡± ¡°Check all you want. I¡¯m out.¡± Isolde signed the release form. She took her copy. She walked out. To get to the elevators, she had to pass the main conference room. It was a fishbowl, walls made of floor-to-ceiling ss. Inside, the board was meeting. . . . Chapter 21 Chapter 21: Grayson sat at the head of the table. He looked powerful,manding. Belle was to his right, leaning in close, whispering something in his ear. He smiled at her¡ªa genuine, warm smile. He patted her hand on the table. The board members nodded in agreement. They looked like the perfect power couple. Isolde stopped. Grayson looked up. His eyes met hers through the ss. His smile vanished. He half-rose from his chair, his mouth forming her name. Isolde reached up to herpel. She unclipped her visitor badge¡ªthe one that said Isolde Lancaster ¡ª Guest. She held his gaze. She dropped the badge into the trash can next to the ss wall. She didn¡¯t throw it with anger. She dropped it with indifference. Like it was a used tissue. ????§â???????? ??????rie? ???? ????????§à????ls.??§à?? Grayson¡¯s face darkened. He looked furious. He looked¡­ scared. Belle followed his gaze. She saw Isolde. She smirked and waved a manicured hand. Isolde didn¡¯t react. She turned and walked to the elevator. As the doors closed, she pulled out her phone. To: And Roth Message: I¡¯m free. Let¡¯s build the Phoenix. She felt lighter than she had in years. The ss wall hadn¡¯t just separated her from them; it had protected her from their pollution. It was 9:00 PM when Grayson returned to the penthouse. The apartment was dark. ¡°Isolde?¡± he called out, loosening his tie. ¡°I¡¯m home. Where¡¯s dinner?¡± Silence. He frowned. Usually, the smell of roast chicken or pasta would greet him. Usually, Effie¡¯s toys would be scattered on the rug. The rug was empty. The air smelled of lemon polish and nothingness. He walked into the kitchen. The counters were bare. No note. No food. ¡°Isolde!¡± he yelled, annoyance rising. ¡°Stop this childish game!¡± He marched to the master bedroom. The bed was made with military precision. On his pillow sat a thick man envelope. Next to it sat the five-carat diamond ring he had kicked across the foyer floor days ago. Someone¡ªthe maid¡ªmust have ced it there. Grayson picked up the envelope. He ripped it open. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. He stared at the words. They looked foreign. Petitioner: Isolde Carson. Respondent: Grayson Lancaster. Grounds: Irreconcble Differences. He flipped to the asset division page. Petitioner requests sole physical and legal custody of minor child, Effie Lancaster. Petitioner waives all rights to spousal support, alimony, and marital assets. She wanted nothing. She just wanted out. Graysonughed. It was a hollow sound in the empty room. ¡°She¡¯s bluffing,¡± he said aloud. ¡°She has to be. She has no money. She has nowhere to go.¡± He threw the papers onto the bed. He pulled out his phone. He opened his banking app. He navigated to the credit card controls. Isolde ¡ª tinum Card. Isolde ¡ª ck Card. He hit Suspend. ¡°Let¡¯s see how independent you are when you can¡¯t buy groceries,¡± he muttered. ¡°And the moment you try, the declined transaction will ping your location. You can¡¯t hide from me, Isolde.¡± He walked into Effie¡¯s room. It was stripped. The closet was open, hangers bare. The bed was just a mattress. On the floor, in the corner,y a single piece of a broken propeller. A remnant of the ne Isolde had smashed. . . . Chapter 22 Chapter 22: Grayson kicked it. It skittered across the floor, hitting the wall with a lonely ck. He went to the living room and poured himself a scotch. His hands were shaking slightly. Why did the apartment feel so big? It was 4,000 square feet. It had always been 4,000 square feet. But tonight, it felt like a cavern. He sat on the couch where Belle had sat earlier. He tried to summon the image of Belle¡¯s smile, herpetence, her ambition. But all he could see was Isolde¡¯s face through the ss wall of his office. The way she had dropped that badge. The way she had looked at him like he was a stranger. He took a drink. It burned. ¡°You¡¯lle crawling back,¡± he whispered to the dark room. ¡°You always do.¡± But for the first time, he wasn¡¯t sure. The Javits Center was a hive of activity. The Aerospace Expo was the biggest event of the year, a yground for billionaires and defense contractors. ?????e???? ???? ????§Ön?? ???? ????l??o????ls.??o?? Isolde walked through the main entrance. She wore a navy blue pantsuit, sharp and tailored. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She looked professional. Dangerous. Effie walked beside her, holding her hand. She had a slight, almost imperceptible limp, the only lingering sign of the stitches hidden beneath her stockings. She looked around with wide, curious eyes, pointing at the turbine models hanging from the ceiling. ¡°That¡¯s a high-pressurepressor!¡± Effie chirped. A passing engineer stopped and stared. ¡°She¡¯s five? How does she know that?¡± Isolde smiled. ¡°She reads.¡± They approached the security checkpoint. ¡°Invitation only,¡± the guard said, blocking their path. Isolde pulled anyard from her purse. It wasn¡¯t a guest pass. It was a ck card with a silver chip. VIP ¡ª Strategic Consultant ¡ª Roth Aeronautics. The guard scanned it. The light turned green. ¡°Go right ahead, ma¡¯am.¡± They walked into the main hall. In the center, dominating the space, was the SkyLine Technologies booth. It was massive, sleek, and white. A huge object was covered by a velvet tarp in the middle. Grayson was standing in front of it, holding court with a group of reporters. He looked dashing in his tuxedo. Belle was beside him, wearing a shimmering silver gown that looked like liquid metal. She was beaming, soaking up the camera shes. Kaiden was there too, bored, kicking the base of the disy. Isolde stopped at the edge of the crowd. Kaiden looked up. He saw Effie. ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted, pointing a finger. ¡°Look! The bastard is here!¡± The chatter stopped. Heads turned. Cameras swung around. Grayson froze. He looked up and saw Isolde. His face went pale. Then red. ¡°Don¡¯t film the children!¡± he barked at the press, stepping in front of Kaiden. Isolde didn¡¯t hide. She took off her sunsses. She stared straight into the lenses of the cameras. Belle marched over, her heels clicking aggressively. . . . Chapter 23 Chapter 23: ¡°Isolde,¡± she hissed, her smile tight and fake. ¡°What are you doing here? This is a professional event. Did you sneak in?¡± She waved at a security guard. ¡°Excuse me! This woman doesn¡¯t have an invite.¡± The guard walked over. He looked at Isolde. He looked at the cknyard around her neck. He straightened up and nodded respectfully. ¡°She has All-ess clearance, Ms. Escobar. Level One. It¡¯s a direct credential from the FAA liaison for the event. My hands are tied.¡± Belle¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°What? Who gave you that?¡± ???????? ?????? ?????????????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? ¡°Apetitor who appreciates talent,¡± Isolde said smoothly. Grayson pushed past Belle. He grabbed Isolde¡¯s elbow¡ªthen remembered her warning and quickly let go. ¡°You are here to cause a scene,¡± he used. ¡°You want to ruin myunch.¡± His eyes flickered to thenyard. Strategic Consultant? The title sent a jolt of unease through him. Roth didn¡¯t hand out those credentials to socialites. It meant something. Something he didn¡¯t know. ¡°I¡¯m here to watch,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I want to see what you¡¯ve built.¡± ¡°It¡¯s revolutionary,¡± Grayson said, puffing out his chest. ¡°Belle designed it herself.¡± Isolde looked at Belle. Belle shifted ufortably, smoothing her dress. ¡°Is that so?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°Impressive.¡± ¡°Just¡­ sit down and be quiet,¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°And keep Effie away from the press.¡± Isolde looked down at Effie. ¡°Come on, sweetie. Let¡¯s get a front-row seat.¡± She led Effie past them, straight to the VIP section reserved for industry titans. She sat down right in the center, directly in Grayson¡¯s line of sight. She crossed her legs. She waited. The lights dimmed. Dramatic music¡ªsomething with heavy bass and violins¡ªfilled the hall. Spotlights swirled around the covered object on the stage. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± the announcer boomed, ¡°the future of aviation. The SkyLine Phoenix-X7!¡± The tarp was pulled away. The crowd gasped. It was a drone. A sleek, predatory machine with forward-swept wings and a unique, dual-intake engine configuration. It was beautiful. It was also exactly what Isolde had drawn on a napkin five years ago in a diner in Mojave. Effie tugged on Isolde¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Mommy,¡± she whispered loudly. ¡°That looks like your drawing. The one in the blue notebook.¡± Isolde put a finger to her lips. ¡°Shh. Watch.¡± Belle walked onto the stage. She held a microphone. She looked confident, but Isolde noticed the slight tremor in her hand. ¡°Thank you,¡± Belle said. ¡°When I designed the Phoenix, I wanted to capture the essence of rebirth. I spent months in the wind tunnel, refining these curves.¡± Isolde reached into her pocket. She pressed Record on her phone. ¡°The forward-swept wings,¡± Belle continued, gesturing to the screen behind her, which showed wireframe diagrams. ¡°They provide instability for maneuverability. It was a¡­ a risky choice, but my intuition told me it would work.¡± A reporter in the front row raised a hand. ¡°Ms. Escobar! How did you ovee the aero-stic divergence issuesmon with forward-swept wings at supersonic speeds?¡± Belle froze. She blinked. ¡°The¡­ divergence?¡± she repeated. ¡°Yes. The structural stress. Did you use carbon nanotubes or aposite weave?¡± Belle looked at Grayson. Panic red in her eyes. . . . Chapter 24 Chapter 24: Grayson stepped up to the mic. ¡°That is proprietary technology,¡± he said smoothly. ¡°We can¡¯t reveal our trade secrets. But let¡¯s just say Belle¡¯s genius found a way.¡± He smiled reassuringly at the crowd, but inside, a cold knot formed in his stomach. He knew Belle was more of a conceptual artist than an engineer, but he had assumed her team had handled the details. Her nk stare at such a fundamental question was a ring red g. He pushed the doubt away; the stock price was already climbing based on the hype. He couldn¡¯t afford to question the narrative now. The reporter nodded, satisfied. Isolde leaned over to And Roth, who had quietly taken the seat next to her. ¡°She doesn¡¯t know,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°She doesn¡¯t know about the titanium ribbing I added to the sub-frame. The final structural integrity simtions were on a separate, encrypted server. They only stole the aerodynamics.¡± And smirked. ¡°If she pushes that prototype past Mach 1.2 without the ribbing¡­¡± ¡°It will disintegrate,¡± Isolde finished. T??e ??o???? ??????????a?? ????v??l?? §à? ????????o??????s.????m ¡°Do we tell them?¡± And asked. Isolde looked at Belle, basking in the apuse for work she didn¡¯t do. She looked at Grayson, looking at Belle with adoration. ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Let them fly it. Let them fail.¡± She stopped the recording. She had Belle on tape iming sole authorship. That was Step One of thewsuit. The presentation ended. The crowd erupted in apuse. Isolde stood up. She didn¡¯t p. She just stared at the stage. Grayson looked down. He saw her. He saw theck of apuse. He saw the cold, knowing look in her eyes. For a moment, his triumph faltered. He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. The after-party was in full swing. Waiters passed around champagne and caviar. Isolde and Effie stood near the exit. They were leaving. They had seen enough. Grayson and Kaiden walked by, heading toward the dessert table. Kaiden was holding a limited-edition model of the Phoenix-X7, made of die-cast metal. Effie stopped. She stared at the toy. ¡°Daddy?¡± she called out softly. Grayson stopped. He looked down. ¡°Can I have a ne too?¡± Effie asked. Her voice was small, hopeful. Even after everything, she still wanted a piece of him. Grayson sighed. He looked annoyed. ¡°These are for VIPs, Effie. They¡¯re numbered.¡± ¡°But Kaiden has one,¡± Effie pointed out. ¡°Kaiden is¡­ Kaiden appreciates it,¡± Grayson said. ¡°You¡¯d just break it. Or lose it.¡± He turned to Kaiden. ¡°Come on, son. Let¡¯s get you a cookie.¡± He started to walk away. Isolde stepped into his path. ¡°Grayson,¡± she said. He stopped. ¡°What now?¡± ¡°Give her the ne,¡± Isolde said. ¡°No. I don¡¯t have another one.¡± ¡°Then give her that one.¡± She pointed to the one in Kaiden¡¯s hand. ¡°No!¡± Kaiden yelled, clutching it to his chest. ¡°It¡¯s mine!¡± Grayson shrugged. ¡°You heard him.¡± Isolde looked at him. Really looked at him. She saw the weakness. The cruelty masked as indifference. ¡°You just made a choice,¡± Isolde said quietly. ¡°Remember this moment. Because it¡¯s thest time she will ever ask you for anything.¡± . . . Chapter 25 Chapter 25: Grayson rolled his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re so dramatic. I¡¯ll buy her a doll tomorrow.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t want a doll,¡± Isolde said. ¡°She wants a father. But we¡¯re fresh out of those.¡± She took Effie¡¯s hand. ¡°Come on, Effie. We have work to do.¡± They walked past the SkyLine booth to a smaller table in the corner. ISSDC ¡ª International Space Settlement Design Competition. Registration Open. Isolde took a photo of the registration details with her phone. She would not risk filling out a form here. ¡°We¡¯re in,¡± she told Effie quietly. Effie looked back at Grayson, who wasughing with a donor, ignoring herpletely. ???s????????r ?§Ö?? ??to???§Ös ???? ??a??????v??l?.c???? Effie turned back to Isolde. Her face hardened. The sadness evaporated, reced by a cold determination that mirrored her mother¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯m going to build a better ne,¡± Effie said. ¡°And I¡¯m not going to let him ride in it.¡± Isolde smiled. It was a fierce, dangerous smile. ¡°That¡¯s my girl.¡± They walked out of the Javits Center into the cool night air. Behind them, the SkyLine party raged on, celebrating a stolen victory. Ahead of them, the city lights blurred into a runway. Isolde checked her phone. She sent a quick, encrypted text to And. Register a new team for the ISSDC. Name: Athena Project. Lead designer: Sophia. Assistant: E.C. Keep it anonymous. She hailed a cab. The game was on. The morning air in Central Park was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and exhaust from the nearby avenue. Isolde walked slowly, her hand gripping Effie¡¯s small, cold fingers. They had left the hotel early. Too suffocating after the humiliation at the productunch the night before. Effie was quiet. She wore her favorite leggings and a hoodie that was slightly too big, clutching a book on origami she had bought from a street vendor. Her eyes were downcast, focused on her sneakers hitting the pavement. ¡°Look at the ducks, Effie,¡± Isolde said, pointing toward the pond. Her voice sounded thin to her own ears. Effie didn¡¯t look up. ¡°They¡¯re just swimming in circles, Mommy.¡± Isolde felt a pinch in her chest. Even the ducks were a disappointment today. They rounded a bend near the Alice in Wondend statue. A small crowd had gathered. Cameras were clicking. Isolde stopped. She tried to turn back, but it was toote. Grayson was there. He was sitting on a park bench, legs crossed casually, wearing a cashmere sweater that probably cost more than Isolde¡¯s entire rental car. Belle was next to him,ughing at something he said, her head thrown back in a pose that was perfectly calcted to catch the light. And Kaiden. Kaiden was running around them, holding the limited-edition metal ne Grayson had refused to give Effiest night. ¡°Higher, Kaiden! Smile for the camera!¡± a photographer shouted. It was a staged family outing. A PR stunt to clean up the image after the awkward questions at theunch. #LancasterPerfectFamily. Kaiden stopped running. He saw them. . . . Chapter 26 Chapter 26: His eyes lit up with malicious delight. He ran over to the path where Isolde and Effie stood frozen. He waved the silver ne in Effie¡¯s face. The metal glinted in the sun. ¡°Look,¡± Kaiden sneered. ¡°I have a dad. You don¡¯t.¡± Effie flinched. She took a step back, her grip on the origami book tightening until the cover bent. ¡°You¡¯re a wild child,¡± Kaiden chanted, a cruel rhyme he must have picked up from a nanny. ¡°No daddy, no home, just a wild child.¡± Effie bit her lip. Her chin trembled. She didn¡¯t cry, but her eyes filled with water, magnifying her pain. Belle noticed themotion. She stood up, smoothing her skirt, her smile freezing into a mask of annoyance when she saw Isolde. She didn¡¯t move to stop Kaiden. She just turned her head slightly to the left, offering her good side to the photographers. Grayson looked up. He frowned. He looked at Kaiden, then at Effie. He opened his mouth, perhaps to scold Kaiden for being loud, but he didn¡¯t move. Isolde felt the blood rush to her ears. The sound of the city faded, reced by the thumping of her own heart. She let go of Effie¡¯s hand and stepped forward. She ced herself between her daughter and the boy. She looked down at Kaiden. She didn¡¯t yell. Her voice was low, cold, and sharp as a scalpel. ??????t r?????? ????i?? ????§Ö?? §à? g§Ñ????????§Ö????.?????? ¡°You should be careful what you repeat, little boy.¡± Kaiden blinked, confused. ¡°What?¡± Isolde lifted her gaze. She looked past the boy, straight at Belle, who was still subtly posing. ¡°Some mothers,¡± Isolde said, her voice carrying clearly over the click of the cameras, ¡°are just props. They pose and smile, but they won¡¯t even step forward to teach their own child basic decency.¡± The air seemed to vanish from the park. Belle¡¯s face went chalk white. Her hand flew to her throat. The smile dropped off her face like shattered ss. Grayson shot to his feet. His eyes were dark, dangerous. He took a step toward Isolde. ¡°Isolde,¡± he warned. ¡°Shut your mouth.¡± Kaiden didn¡¯t understand the words, but he understood the tone. He felt the tension, the sudden shift in power. He felt small. And Kaiden hated feeling small. ¡°You¡¯re stupid!¡± Kaiden screamed. He shoved Effie. It was a hard, two-handed push. Effie wasn¡¯t ready. She stumbled back. Her heel caught on the edge of the cobblestone path. She tipped backward, her arms iling. Behind her was the stone base of the statue. Sharp, unforgiving granite. ¡°Effie!¡± Isolde screamed, lunging forward. She was too far. She watched in slow motion as her daughter fell. A blur of gray cashmere moved past her. Grayson didn¡¯t think. He didn¡¯t calcte PR angles. He didn¡¯t look at Belle. He dove. His hand shot out, catching the back of Effie¡¯s head inches before it cracked against the stone. His other arm wrapped around her small waist, pulling her hard against his chest. Theynded in a heap on the grass. Silence. . . . Chapter 27 Chapter 27: Grayson breathed heavily. His hand was tangled in Effie¡¯s hair. He could feel the small, frantic beat of her heart against his ribs. It was a bird-like rhythm, terrified and fast. For a second, he didn¡¯t let go. He looked down at her face. Her eyes were wide, staring up at him. They were his eyes. The same shape, the same color. ¡°Daddy?¡± Effie whispered. The word was a question, fragile as ss. Grayson felt a physical jolt in his chest. A squeeze. It was an instinct he had buried underyers of ambition and resentment. ¡°Grayson!¡± Belle¡¯s voice cut through the moment like a siren. ¡°Kaiden is shaking! That woman scared him!¡± The spell broke. Grayson flinched. He looked at Isolde, who was standing over them, her face pale. He looked at the photographers, who were lowering their cameras, sensing a moment that was too real for the tabloids. He pushed Effie away. ??????e???? §ã????????§Örs ???? ??al??o??e???.co?? He stood up, brushing the grass from his expensive trousers. He stepped back, putting distance between himself and the child he had just saved. ¡°Control your daughter,¡± Grayson said. His voice was ice cold, but his hands were trembling slightly at his sides. ¡°She shouldn¡¯t be provoking him.¡± Isolde pulled Effie up, checking her head, her arms. Then she looked at Grayson. Her gaze was filled with a mixture of pity and disgust. ¡°That was instinct, Grayson,¡± she said softly. ¡°You can¡¯t deny it.¡± Grayson stiffened. ¡°Too bad,¡± Isolde continued, ¡°that you¡¯re trying so hard to kill the only decent part of yourself.¡± Grayson¡¯s jaw clenched. He looked at Effie onest time, then turned away. ¡°Belle, get Kaiden. We¡¯re leaving.¡± He grabbed Kaiden¡¯s hand, roughly pulling the boy toward the waiting town car. Belle scrambled after them, shooting a venomous look at Isolde. Isolde watched them go. She knelt down and wiped a tear from Effie¡¯s cheek. ¡°Don¡¯t cry, baby,¡± she whispered. ¡°We¡¯re going to win. We¡¯re going to win everything.¡± Isolde sat on the edge of the hotel bed. Her phone was vibrating against the nightstand. Harper Vance. Isolde stared at the name shing on the screen, a sudden lump forming in her throat. Harper wasn¡¯t just the most ruthless divorce attorney in New York; she was the only bridge left to the person Isolde used to be. They had been roommates in college. While Isolde disappeared into the shadows of domestic life, Harper had wed her way to the top of the legal food chain. She was the only friend who had never stopped calling, even when Isolde stopped answering¡ªthe only one who knew where the bodies were buried, and exactly who had buried them. Isolde picked up. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Are you seeing this?¡± Harper didn¡¯t say hello. She was shouting. ¡°I swear to god, Isolde, if I wasn¡¯t awyer, I¡¯d be a hitman. I¡¯d take him out myself for what he¡¯s doing to you.¡± ¡°Seeing what?¡± ¡°Twitter. X. Whatever. Look at the trending topics.¡± Isolde put the call on speaker and opened the app. #LancasterPerfectFamily was the number one trend in New York. She tapped it. . . . Chapter 28 Chapter 28: The photo from the park was everywhere. But it was cropped. It showed Grayson, looking heroic and concerned, holding Kaiden¡¯s hand. Belle looked worried and maternal. And in the background, blurry and distorted, was Isolde. The captions were brutal. Ex-wife crashes family time. Jealous much? Look at how Belle looks at Kaiden. That¡¯s a real mom. Isolde Carson looks unhinged. No wonder he left her. Isolde stared at ament that said Kaiden had Belle¡¯s eyes. ¡°The public is blind,¡± Isolde muttered. ¡°Or stupid.¡± There was a knock at the door. Isolde opened it. Harper stood there, holding a bottle of Dom P¨¦rignon in one hand and a thick legal folder in the other. She didn¡¯t wait for an invitation. She pushed past Isolde into the room, bringing with her a gust of expensive perfume. Harper looked around the cramped hotel room. She looked at the two suitcases in the corner. Her eyes softened. §â????????a?? s????????e? ??n ??a????§à??§Öl??.?????? ¡°Oh, Izzy,¡± she said, using the nickname only she was allowed to use. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Isolde said, closing the door. ¡°Don¡¯t pity me. This is freedom.¡± Harper set the champagne on the wobbly desk. ¡°It looks like a prison cell with better thread count. You know my guest room is empty. You and Effie could havee to me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s temporary. And I need to stand on my own two feet.¡± Isolde sat down. ¡°Did you see the PR spin? They¡¯re setting me up as the unstable ex. They want to make sure if I ask for custody, I look crazy.¡± Harper opened the folder. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what they¡¯re doing. Grayson¡¯s team is good. But we¡¯re better. I¡¯ve known Grayson as long as you have, remember? I know how his ego works.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want his money,¡± Isolde said. Harper paused. ¡°Izzy, don¡¯t be a martyr. You deserve half. You built his life. I watched you sketch those designs on our kitchen table while he was out partying. I¡¯m not letting him erase that.¡± ¡°If I take his money, he controls me. He¡¯ll drag it out in court for years. He¡¯ll use the money to make me look greedy.¡± Isolde looked at Effie, who was coloring in the corner. ¡°I want a clean break. I want sole custody. And I want to beat him.¡± ¡°Beat him how?¡± Isolde pulled up an email on her phone. ¡°I registered for the ISSDC.¡± Harper¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°The spacepetition? You? But you haven¡¯t worked in¡­¡± ¡°Five years,¡± Isolde finished. ¡°I¡¯m reactivating ¡®Sophia.''¡± Harper gasped, a spark of recognition lighting up her eyes. She knew that name. She was the one who had helped Isolde set up the encrypted proxy servers years ago so she could consult anonymously. ¡°The Sophia? The ghost engineer from the forums? You¡¯re bringing her back?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to crush SkyLine on their own turf,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was steady. ¡°I¡¯m going to show the world that the brain behind the Phoenix wasn¡¯t him. It wasn¡¯t Belle. It was me.¡± Harper grinned. ¡°Okay. I like this. I like this a lot. This is the Izzy I remember.¡± She pulled out a document. ¡°Then let¡¯s control the narrative. We release a statement.¡± . . . Chapter 29 Chapter 29: Isolde nodded. ¡°Do it.¡± Harper typed on her tablet. The divorce proceedings between Isolde Carson and Grayson Lancaster have officiallymenced. Ms. Carson requests privacy as she focuses on her daughter and her return to her career in aerospace engineering. ¡°Send,¡± Isolde said. ????a?? ????t??o??t ?????????r????t?§à??s ??n ????l??ov??????.c??m Across town, in the SkyLine office, Grayson¡¯s phone pinged. He was in a meeting with Daron. He nced at the notification. Isolde Carson Official Statement¡­ He read it. Return to her career. He frowned. Career? What career? He knew about her past, the raw talent she had before they met, but five years was an eternity in this field. She had no resources, nob, no team. ¡°She¡¯s delusional,¡± Daronughed, reading over his shoulder. ¡°Does she think baking cookies is engineering?¡± Grayson didn¡¯tugh. He felt a strange unease in his gut. The Isolde he knew would have begged. She would have written a long, emotional letter about how much she loved him. This was cold. This was business. ¡°Belle,¡± Grayson called out. Belle walked in. ¡°Yes, darling?¡± ¡°Did Isolde ever¡­ work? Before me?¡± Belle rolled her eyes. ¡°Grayson, we¡¯ve been over this. The official background check our PR team ran for the divorce proceedings confirms it. She dropped out of some localmunity college. She tinkered with engines in her father¡¯s garage. She¡¯s a hobbyist, at best. Don¡¯t let her get in your head.¡± Grayson nodded. Right. A hobbyist. Still, he couldn¡¯t shake the memory of theplex aerodynamic sketches she used to leave on napkins, sketches that looked remarkably simr to the early drafts of the Phoenix project. ¡°Ignore it,¡± Grayson said, tossing the phone on the desk. But he kept staring at the screen. In the hallway of the engineering building at Columbia University, Isolde walked down the corridor, holding Effie¡¯s hand. And Roth walked beside them, checking his watch. ¡°He¡¯s in a mood today,¡± And warned. ¡°Funding cuts.¡± ¡°Nelson is always in a mood,¡± Isolde said. They reached the end of the hall. Room 304. The door was open. Inside, an old man with hair like Einstein¡¯s nightmare was aggressively erasing a ckboard. Chalk dust filled the air like smoke. ¡°Professor?¡± And said. Professor Eldridge Nelson turned around. He squinted. ¡°Roth,¡± he grunted. Then his eyes slid to Isolde. He froze. ¡°Well,¡± Nelson said, tossing the eraser onto a desk. ¡°If it isn¡¯t the runaway bride.¡± Isolde swallowed. ¡°Hello, Professor.¡± ¡°Five years,¡± Nelson said. He walked toward her, his limp pronounced. ¡°You had the best aerodynamic intuition I¡¯d seen in a decade. And you quit to marry a trust fund baby.¡± The words stung. Isolde didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°I made a mistake.¡± ¡°A mistake is forgetting a decimal point,¡± Nelson snapped. ¡°You threw away a gift.¡± ¡°I¡¯m back,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I need a sponsor for the ISSDC. I need to enter as an independent.¡± Nelsonughed. It was a dry, hacking sound. ¡°You think you can just waltz back in? Engineering moves fast, Carson. Five years is a lifetime. You¡¯re obsolete.¡± . . . Chapter 30 Chapter 30: And stepped forward. ¡°Professor, she¡¯s been self-studying¡­¡± ¡°Self-studying!¡± Nelson scoffed. ¡°Did she build a wind tunnel in her kitchen?¡± Effie was hiding behind Isolde¡¯s leg, coughing slightly from the chalk dust. Isolde gently pushed Effie toward a chair. Then she walked to the ckboard. It was covered in equations. A problem about orbital decay and non-linear correction thrust. It was messy. Unsolved. Isolde picked up a piece of chalk. In??§Ö?????? ??????ance on ????????o????????.§ã???? She looked at the problem. She didn¡¯t see numbers. She saw shapes. She saw the path the satellite wanted to take, and the forces fighting it. She started to write. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. The room went silent. Isolde¡¯s hand moved faster. She crossed out Nelson¡¯s third line. She introduced a variable for sr radiation pressure that he had ignored. She simplified the integral. Three minutester, she drew a double line under the final solution. She turned around. Her hand was covered in white dust. ¡°You forgot the sr drag,¡± she said. ¡°At that altitude, it¡¯s significant.¡± Nelson stared at the board. He walked over to it. He traced her numbers with a trembling finger. He looked back at her. The anger in his eyes was gone, reced by a grudging, fierce respect. ¡°Rusty,¡± he muttered. ¡°Your handwriting is terrible.¡± He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a stic card. He threw it at her. Isolde caught it. ISSDC Sponsor ess ¡ª Level A. ¡°Don¡¯t embarrass me,¡± Nelson grumbled. He looked at Effie. ¡°Does the kid do math?¡± Effie peeked out. She held up a piece of paper she had been folding. It was a perfect geometric crane. ¡°It flies,¡± Effie whispered. Nelson huffed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Get out of myb. Both of you. Go win.¡± Isolde clutched the card. ¡°Thank you.¡± As they walked out, Isolde felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She wasn¡¯t just a divorcee. She wasn¡¯t just a mother. She was an engineer. The prepetition mixer was held at a gallery in Chelsea. Isolde hadn¡¯t wanted toe. But Nelson had texted her: Show your face. Fear is a variable. She wore a simple ck dress she had bought at a thrift store. It was elegant, severe. Effie wore a white dress that Isolde had spent an hour ironing. The room was full of suits. And in the center, holding court, was the SkyLine team. Grayson looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes that makeup couldn¡¯t hide. Belle was clinging to his arm, wearing a dress that sparkled too much for a Tuesday. Daron McKnight was loud, boasting about SkyLine¡¯s odds. ¡°We have the best AI,¡± he shouted to a group of investors. ¡°It¡¯s in the bag.¡± Isolde stayed near the juice bar, keeping a hand on Effie¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Can I have juice?¡± Effie asked. ¡°Cranberry,¡± Isolde said, pouring a ss. Suddenly, a blur of motion. Kaiden appeared. He was running, weaving through the legs of the adults. He held a ss of dark red juice in his hand. . . . Chapter 31 Chapter 31: He saw Effie. He saw the white dress. He didn¡¯t slow down. He sped up. Isolde saw iting. She turned, but not fast enough. Kaiden mmed into Effie. ¡°Oops!¡± he yelled. The red juice exploded over Effie¡¯s white dress. It looked like a gunshot wound. Effie gasped, looking down at the ruin of her clothes. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going!¡± Kaiden shouted, ying the victim immediately. The room went quiet. All eyes turned to them. Isolde felt a cold snap in her brain. She grabbed Kaiden¡¯s wrist. Hard. ???o????§Ö?? yo?? ??on¡¯?? ?????? ???????? §àn ??§Ñ??????????????.§ã???? ¡°Ow!¡± Kaiden shrieked. ¡°She¡¯s hurting me!¡± Belle rushed over. ¡°Let go of him! You crazy woman!¡± Grayson was right behind her. ¡°Isolde! What the hell are you doing?¡± Isolde didn¡¯t let go. She looked at Grayson. ¡°He did it on purpose.¡± Grayson looked at Effie¡¯s stained dress. He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s an ident, Isolde. Kids run. Don¡¯t make a scene.¡± ¡°Make a scene?¡± Isolde repeated. ¡°He ruined her dress. He bullied her yesterday. He assaulted her today.¡± ¡°He¡¯s five!¡± Belle screamed. ¡°He¡¯s a spirited boy!¡± Daronughed from the side. ¡°She¡¯s just desperate for attention. Sad, really.¡± Isolde released Kaiden. He ran behind Belle, sticking his tongue out at Effie. Isolde looked at the waiter passing by with a tray of red wine. She reached out. She took a full ss of Cabe. She turned back to the group. Grayson, Belle, Kaiden. The perfect family. ¡°You think it¡¯s just an ident?¡± Isolde asked softly. ¡°Yes,¡± Grayson said, adjusting his tie. ¡°Now apologize to Belle for grabbing her son.¡± Isolde smiled. It was a terrifying smile. ¡°Oops,¡± she said. She flicked her wrist. The wine arced through the air. A perfect, fluid dynamic curve. It sshed directly onto Kaiden¡¯s cream-colored suit. And Belle¡¯s silver dress. Kaiden screamed. The cold liquid shocked him. The room gasped. Isolde set the empty ss on a table. ¡°My hand slipped,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was calm. ¡°Just an ident. Kids y, adults spill. Right, Grayson?¡± Grayson stared at her. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked at the wine dripping off his son. He looked at Isolde¡¯s defiant face. He realized, with a jolt of horror, that she wasn¡¯t afraid of him anymore. Not even a little bit. ¡°You¡­¡± Belle sputtered, wiping at her dress. ¡°You¡¯ll pay for this!¡± ¡°Bill me,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Oh wait. You can¡¯t. I have no money.¡± She picked up Effie. ¡°Come on, sweetie. Let¡¯s go somewhere that doesn¡¯t smell like garbage.¡± Isolde walked out of the gallery, her head high. She didn¡¯t run. She didn¡¯t look back. She took off her ck zer and wrapped it around Effie, covering the stained dress. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mommy,¡± Effie whispered into Isolde¡¯s neck. ¡°You have nothing to be sorry for,¡± Isolde said fiercely. ¡°You stood tall.¡± They reached the curb. The night air was cool. ¡°Isolde!¡± Daron McKnight came stumbling out the door. His face was red. . . . Chapter 32 Chapter 32: ¡°You¡¯re done,¡± Daron spat. ¡°You think you can humiliate Grayson Lancaster and work in this town? We will cklist you. You won¡¯t get a job cleaning toilets at NASA.¡± Isolde stopped. She turned slowly. ¡°Daron,¡± she said coolly. ¡°You¡¯re still using that outdated simtion software SkyLine bought three years ago, aren¡¯t you? The one with the notorious memory leak issue?¡± Daron blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I read the industry reports,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And I know you. You¡¯re a middle manager who cuts corners. Get out of my way.¡± She brushed past him. ??????e ??§àu?? ??§Ñ??§à??????e ????v??l?? o? ??????????????ls.????m Up on the second-floor balcony of the gallery, Professor Nelson watched the scene below. He held a ss of whiskey. Next to him stood Sterling, the CEO of a rival aerospace firm. ¡°Who is that?¡± Sterling asked, impressed. ¡°She¡¯s got fire.¡± ¡°That,¡± Nelson said, taking a sip, ¡°is my student. And she¡¯s going to eat your lunch.¡± Sterlingughed. ¡°The housewife? Please.¡± ¡°Wait and see,¡± Nelson said. Down on the street, a ck sedan pulled up. And Roth rolled down the window. ¡°Get in,¡± he said. ¡°Before Belle calls the police for assault with a deadly beverage.¡± Isolde climbed in. She buckled Effie up. ¡°Did you see his face?¡± And asked, grinning. ¡°I saw fear,¡± Isolde said. She looked at her hands. They were shaking now. The adrenaline was fading. Back inside the gallery, Grayson was trying to calm a hysterical Belle. ¡°My dress! It¡¯s ruined!¡± Belle shrieked. ¡°It¡¯s just a dress, Belle,¡± Grayson snapped. Belle stopped crying. She stared at him. ¡°Just a dress? You¡¯re taking her side?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not taking her side!¡± Grayson roared. ¡°I¡¯m tired! I¡¯m tired of the screaming. I¡¯m tired of the drama.¡± He looked at the door where Isolde had vanished. He remembered the way she had looked at him. Like he was small. Like he was nothing. He hated it. But more than that, he hated the sinking feeling that she was right. ¡°Clean him up,¡± Grayson told Belle, gesturing to Kaiden. ¡°I¡¯m going home.¡± ¡°Without us?¡± Belle asked, shocked. ¡°Yes,¡± Grayson said. ¡°I need quiet.¡± He walked out, leaving his ¡°perfect family¡± behind in a puddle of red wine. The apartment was in Brooklyn, three blocks from the subway. It was a fourth-floor walk-up. The hallway smelled of boiled cabbage and old carpet. And carried thest box up. He was sweating in his expensive suit. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ cozy,¡± And lied, looking at the peeling paint on the ceiling. Isolde unlocked the door. The key stuck, and she had to jiggle it. Inside, it was one room. A kitchte in the corner, a pull-out sofa, and a small bedroom for Effie. ¡°It¡¯s ours,¡± Isolde said. She breathed in. It smelled of dust and lemon cleaner. It smelled better than the penthouse. ¡°I can lend you money for furniture,¡± And offered. ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I have my savings. I need to do this myself.¡± And nodded. He respected that. He left, promising to send the server ess codester. Isolde locked the door. She engaged the deadbolt and the chain. ¡°Mommy?¡± Effie stood in the middle of the empty room. ¡°Where do we sleep?¡± ¡°We¡¯re camping,¡± Isolde said brightly. ¡°Indoor camping.¡± . . . Chapter 33 Chapter 33: She opened the fridge. It was empty. ¡°Let¡¯s go shopping,¡± Isolde said. They walked to the local bodega. Isolde counted the cash in her wallet. Forty dors for the week. She bought milk, bread, eggs, and a box of generic cereal. Effie wanted the colorful brand-name one. Isolde looked at the price tag. $6.99. She looked at the generic one. $2.99. ??§à????l????????b???? ???????? ???? g??l??o??????s.?????? ¡°This one has a puzzle on the back,¡± Isolde said, her voice firm but gentle. It wasn¡¯t a lie; it was a lesson in finding value where others saw none. Effie smiled. ¡°Okay!¡± At the checkout, Isolde watched the total climb. $18.50. She paid. Her hand lingered on the bills. This wasn¡¯t just money; it was independence, bought one dor at a time. Back in the apartment, they sat on the floor and ate cereal out of mugs because they didn¡¯t have bowls yet. ¡°Mommy,¡± Effie said, milk mustache on her lip. ¡°I like this house.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because Daddy isn¡¯t here to yell.¡± Isolde¡¯s heart broke and healed in the same second. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s not.¡± Later that night, after Effie was asleep on the mattress on the floor, Isolde sat at the wobbly kitchen table. She opened herptop. An encrypted email from Nelson. ISSDC Challenge: Sustainable Martian Colony. Closed Loop Ecosystem. 500 inhabitants. Isolde stared at the screen. Her mind began to race. She grabbed a pen. She started to draw. For the first time in five years, she wasn¡¯t a wife. She was Sophia. And she was going to build a world. The phone rang at 6:30 PM. Isolde was deep in a schematic for a water remation system. She almost didn¡¯t answer. She saw the name. Lancaster Penthouse. She hesitated. Then she swiped right. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Isolde? It¡¯s Maria, the housekeeper,¡± a flustered voice whispered. ¡°Mr. Kaiden, he got into Mr. Lancaster¡¯s phone and found your number in the recent calls. I¡¯m so sorry to bother you, but he won¡¯t eat. He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s screaming for you.¡± In the background, a child¡¯s wail was unmistakable. ¡°Where are you?¡± Kaiden¡¯s voice was shrill. ¡°It¡¯s dinner time.¡± Isolde blinked. She looked at the clock. ¡°I don¡¯t live there anymore, Kaiden.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m hungry!¡± Kaiden shouted. ¡°The new chef made pasta with green stuff. I hate green stuff. I want your meat sauce.¡± Isolde felt a phantom urge to apologize, to rush to the kitchen. It was a reflex honed by years of servitude. She crushed it. ¡°I¡¯m not your chef, Kaiden,¡± she said calmly. ¡°You have toe back! Dad said you¡¯re just being mean!¡± Kaiden whined. ¡°No.¡± ¡°I¡¯m telling Dad you won¡¯t feed me!¡± ¡°Go ahead,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Tell him. Tell Belle. She¡¯s your mother, Kaiden. Ask her to cook.¡± ¡°She can¡¯t cook!¡± Kaiden yelled. ¡°She burns water!¡± Isoldeughed. A dry, humorless sound. ¡°That sounds like a ¡®you¡¯ problem.¡± ¡°Please,¡± Kaiden¡¯s voice dropped. It wobbled. ¡°I¡¯m really hungry.¡± . . . Chapter 34 Chapter 34: Isolde¡¯s grip on the phone tightened. She remembered feeding him when he was a toddler. She remembered reading him stories before she knew whose son he was. But then she looked at Effie¡¯s leg, where the bandage from the ne propeller cut was still visible. ¡°Ask your father to order pizza,¡± Isolde said. ¡°He has plenty of money.¡± She hung up. ???????? ??§à????l?? o?? ????????????§Ö??s.§ã§à?? She blocked the number. At the penthouse, Kaiden threw the housekeeper¡¯s phone against the wall. It shattered. ¡°She hung up on me!¡± he screamed. Grayson walked into the living room, stepping over a pile of toys. The ce was a mess. The maid had quit that morning because Kaiden had bitten her. ¡°What is going on?¡± Grayson rubbed his temples. ¡°I¡¯m hungry!¡± Kaiden wailed. ¡°Belle?¡± Grayson looked around. Belle was on the sofa, scrolling through Instagram. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. I just got a manicure.¡± Grayson looked at the cold, gourmet pasta on the table. It looked unappetizing. He remembered the smell of Isolde¡¯s roast chicken. The way the house used to feel warm and orderly. ¡°I¡¯ll order pizza,¡± Grayson muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t want pizza!¡± Kaiden kicked the table. ¡°I want Isolde!¡± ¡°She¡¯s gone, Kaiden!¡± Grayson snapped. He lost control. ¡°She left us! Get used to it!¡± Kaiden burst into tears. Belle red at Grayson. ¡°You¡¯re traumatizing him,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m traumatizing him?¡± Graysonughed bitterly. ¡°This house is a zoo.¡± He walked to the window and looked out at the city. Somewhere out there, Isolde was eating dinner. Was she thinking of him? Was she suffering? He hoped so. Because if she wasn¡¯t, then he was the only one losing. The next afternoon, Isolde pulled her rental Toyota up to the curb of St. Jude¡¯s Preparatory School. It was pickup time. A parade of Range Rovers, Bentleys, and Tes lined the street. Her dented sedan stuck out like a sore thumb. She saw Effie waiting by the gate. Effie waved, a small smile on her face. Isolde got out to help her with her bag. A silver Bentley pulled up right behind her, blocking her in. Grayson got out. He looked immacte in a navy suit, but his face was tight. ¡°Isolde,¡± he barked. Isolde stiffened. ¡°Move your car, Grayson. You¡¯re blocking me.¡± ¡°We need to talk,¡± Grayson said, ignoring her request. He gestured toward Kaiden, who was standing by the Bentley¡¯s door with a nanny. ¡°He¡¯s been a nightmare since you left. Take him for the afternoon. Give his nanny a break.¡± It wasn¡¯t a request. It was amand, wrapped in the assumption that she was still his to deploy. Kaiden looked at Isolde¡¯s car, a hopeful expression on his face. Isolde pressed the lock button on her key fob. Click. The sound was quiet but definitive. ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. Grayson stepped closer. ¡°Isolde, don¡¯t be petty. Look around. People are watching. Let¡¯s at least pretend to be civil for the children¡¯s sake. Just drop him at the penthouse.¡± ¡°I am not your employee,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And I am not his mother. Your pretense of civility is your problem to solve. Call Belle.¡± . . . Chapter 35 Chapter 35: ¡°Belle is at a photoshoot,¡± Grayson hissed. ¡°Stop embarrassing me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re embarrassing yourself,¡± Isolde said. She opened the back door for Effie. Effie climbed in quickly, looking scared. ¡°Let him in,¡± Grayson grabbed Isolde¡¯s arm. ???s???????? ????§ãe???? ???? g????n????§Öl??.§ã§à?? Isolde pulled away violently. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡± She got into the driver¡¯s seat. She locked the doors. Kaiden started to whine, pulling on the nanny¡¯s hand. ¡°I want to go with Effie!¡± Grayson stood in front of the car, hands on his hips, assuming she wouldn¡¯t dare move. Isolde looked at him through the windshield. She shifted into Drive. She revved the engine. The cheap muffler was loud. Grayson¡¯s eyes widened. He saw her face. There was no hesitation there. He stepped back. Isolde hit the gas. She swerved around the Bentley, tires screeching slightly on the asphalt. She left them there. Grayson standing on the curb, looking furious and impotent. Kaiden crying on the sidewalk. Other parents were watching. Whispering. ¡°Did you see that?¡± ¡°Lancaster can¡¯t even get his ex to talk to him.¡± Grayson felt the heat rise up his neck. He kicked the tire of his Bentley. ¡°Get in the car, Kaiden,¡± he growled. ¡°But I wanted to ride with Effie!¡± ¡°Get in!¡± Grayson mmed the door. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. She was defying him at every turn. She was erasing him. And God help him, he missed her. Harper poured the champagne into two coffee mugs. ¡°To freedom,¡± she toasted. ¡°To freedom,¡± Isolde echoed. They were sitting on the floor of the Brooklyn apartment. It waste. ¡°You won¡¯t believe this,¡± Harper said, pulling out her phone. ¡°Look at TMZ.¡± Isolde looked. A video. Grainy, shaky footage taken from a phone. It showed a silver Bentley racing a Lamborghini on a deserted stretch of road in Queens. The Bentley swerved, nearly hitting a barrier, before spinning out. Police lights shed. Billionaire Grayson Lancaster Cited for Reckless Driving. ¡°He¡¯s spiraling,¡± Harper said. ¡°He always drives fast when he feels out of control.¡± Isolde watched the video. She knew that driving style. Aggressive. Sloppy. He was angry. ¡°He¡¯s lucky he didn¡¯t kill someone,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was t. ¡°He spent four hours in the precinct before Daron bailed him out,¡± Harper said gleefully. ¡°Mugshot and everything.¡± Isolde handed the phone back. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Harper said. ¡°Now, business. I did some digging on SkyLine¡¯s supply chain for thepetition.¡± Isolde leaned forward. ¡°And?¡± ¡°They acquired a small firm called K-Techst week. To supply the sensors for their Mars habitat model.¡± Isolde frowned. ¡°K-Tech? They make discount thermostats. Their sensors have a 4% drift rate.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Harper said. ¡°Belle pushed for the acquisition. It saved them two million dors.¡± Isolde smiled. It was the smile of a predator. ¡°4% drift,¡± she whispered. ¡°In a closed-loop ecosystem, a 4% error in oxygen levels is fatal within three weeks.¡± ¡°Can you prove it?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need to prove it,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I just need to let the simtion run long enough.¡± She grabbed her notebook. . . . Chapter 36 Chapter 36: ¡°Belle bought cheap parts to boost margins,¡± Isolde said. ¡°She thinks engineering is about branding. She forgot about the physics.¡± Isolde wrote down: Phase 2: Stress Test. ¡°She just handed me the win,¡± Isolde said. The Javits Center was transformed. Rows ofputer terminals and workstations filled the massive hall. Isolde walked in. She wore a baseball cap pulled low and heavy ck-framed sses. Effie wore a matching cap. They looked like nobodies. Just a mom and kid who liked space. They approached the registration desk. ¡°Name?¡± ¡°Team Sophia,¡± Isolde said. She slid Nelson¡¯s card across the counter. The volunteer scanned it. Her eyes widened. ¡°Level A clearance. Go right ahead.¡± ??????§ã§à?????? ??e?? ????§à??i§Ö? on ??????????v??????.§ão?? They walked to their station. It was small, just two chairs and a terminal. In the center of the room was the SkyLine fortress. Six monitors. Three assistants. Belle was shouting orders. Grayson sat in a VIP chair, wearing sunsses indoors to hide his hangover eyes. Daron walked by Isolde¡¯s table. He stopped. ¡°Well, well,¡± Daron scoffed, a nasty smirk on his face. ¡°Look what the cat dragged in. Couldn¡¯t afford a real team, Carson? Decided to bring your kid for backup?¡± Isolde didn¡¯t look up. She was typing code. ¡°Go away, Daron.¡± Daron squinted, leaning closer. ¡°You know, for a broke, washed-up housewife, you¡¯ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here.¡± Isolde adjusted her sses. ¡°I¡¯m nobody.¡± The announcer¡¯s voice boomed. ¡°Round One: Structural Integrity. Simtion begins in ten minutes.¡± The screen lit up. A virtual Martian storm was approaching the habitat models. On the main screen, SkyLine¡¯s model appeared. It was massive, shy, with ss domes. ¡°Look at that!¡± Belle shouted. ¡°Indestructible!¡± Isolde¡¯s screen was filled with lines of code. She wasn¡¯t building a model with the standard software; she was running her own proprietary physics kernel, one that ounted for variables the off-the-shelf program ignored. ¡°Mommy, wind speed is 200 kilometers,¡± Effie read from the data stream. ¡°Adjusting drag coefficient,¡± Isolde muttered. Her fingers flew. ¡°Five minutes!¡± SkyLine¡¯s model was holding. But the ss domes were vibrating. Isolde hit Enter. Her model appeared. It wasn¡¯t a dome. It was a honeb structure, low to the ground, buried halfway into the Martian soil. It looked ugly. It looked organic. ¡°Time¡¯s up! Simtion Start!¡± The virtual wind hit. SkyLine¡¯s ss domes shimmered. Then a crack appeared. ¡°Stabilize it!¡± Belle screamed at her team. ¡°Add more struts!¡± ¡°We can¡¯t!¡± an engineer yelled. ¡°The budget is maxed out!¡± The crack widened. One dome shattered. Score: 78%. The crowd groaned. Then the camera shifted to Team Sophia. The wind howled over the honeb. The structure didn¡¯t move. It flexed. It absorbed the energy. Wind speed increased. 300 km/h. Isolde¡¯s model held. Score: 100%. The hall went silent. . . . Chapter 37 Chapter 37: Grayson took off his sunsses. He stared at the screen. He stared at the small table in the corner, at the woman in the baseball cap. He couldn¡¯t see her face clearly, but the design philosophy of her model¡ªthe brutal efficiency, theplete disregard for aesthetics in favor of function¡ªit was familiar. It struck a chord deep in his memory, a style he hadn¡¯t seen in years. His mind shed back to the encrypted engineering forums he used to frequent, searching for raw talent. There had been a ghost, a legend who designed with the same ruthless, elegant logic. Valkyrie. The name echoed in his mind. It couldn¡¯t be. But the design signature was unmistakable. ¡°What the hell?¡± he whispered, his voice dangerously low. This wasn¡¯t just some randompetitor. This was someone who thought like a master. Belle was fuming. ¡°It¡¯s a glitch! That ugly thing can¡¯t be better than mine!¡± Isolde stood up. She stretched. She high-fived Effie. She looked across the room. She caught Grayson¡¯s eye. She tapped the brim of her cap. A simple, dismissive gesture. Grayson felt a shiver run down his spine. He didn¡¯t see the wife he had discarded. He saw a rival. A ghost from the past wearing a stranger¡¯s clothes. ????v?? ???????? ??????§à??i???? ????????ls o?? ????ln§à??e??s.?????? ¡°Find out everything about ¡®Team Sophia,''¡± Grayson ordered Daron. ¡°I don¡¯t care how. I want to know who is backing her. And find every file we have on an engineer who used to go by ¡®Valkyrie.''¡± Isolde sat back down. ¡°Round One to us,¡± she told Effie. ¡°Now let¡¯s see how they handle the oxygen.¡± To amodate thepetition finals at the Javits Center, Isolde had moved herself and Effie into a nearby hotel for the week. The electronic lock on their room door chirped a soft, cheerful note that felt entirely out of ce. The room was dim, illuminated only by the amber glow of the streetlights filtering through the sheer curtains. Effie was already asleep. She was curled into a tight ball in the center of the king-sized bed, her breathing rhythmic and heavy. On the small desk near the window, a chaotic architecture of Lego bricks rose toward the ceiling¡ªa spaceship, or perhaps a colony, half-finished and waiting for tiny hands to resume construction. Isolde didn¡¯t turn on the lights. She walked to the desk, her movements silent, honed by years of trying not to disturb a husband who needed his rest. She opened herptop. The screen red to life, casting a blue pallor over her face. The countdown clock for the second round of the ISSDC ticked away in the corner. Twelve hours. A secure message notification blinked from Harper. Subject: K-Tech Dig. Isolde clicked it open. The text was brief, attached to a dense PDF of internal testing logs. Harper: Got the sensor data. It¡¯s a disaster. Belle cut the safety threshold by 40% to save on unit costs. See page 12. Isolde scrolled. Her eyes scanned the numbers, tranting the dry engineering data into a terrifying reality. The thermal runaway point for these sensors was significantly lower than industry standard. In a closed-loop Martian habitat, this wasn¡¯t just a budget cut; it was a death sentence for the virtual inhabitants. A cold smile touched her lips. It didn¡¯t reach her eyes. . . . Chapter 38 Chapter 38: Belle Escobar had built a ss house on a foundation of sand, all to save a few dors and boost her quarterly margin report. Isolde cracked her knuckles. She would weave this data into tomorrow¡¯s attack algorithm. It wouldn¡¯t just be a victory; it would be an autopsy. She worked for two hours, the only sound the frantic clicking of her keyboard. By 2:00 AM, her eyes felt like they were filled with grit. Her throat was parched. She needed coffee. Isolde pulled a baseball cap low over her forehead and adjusted her face mask. She grabbed her key card and slipped out of the room, leaving the safety of her temporary fortress. The hotel lobby was surprisingly awake. The air hummed with the nervous energy ofpetition. Clusters of students and engineers huddled aroundptops on the plush sofas, fueled by energy drinks and anxiety. ???st??n?? ???????????? §à?? ??????????v§Ö???? Isolde headed toward the 24-hour caf¨¦ bar in the corner. As she waited for her ck coffee, her gaze drifted toward the VIP lounge. It was separated from the main lobby by a floor-to-ceiling ss wall, designed to offer privacy while allowing the upants to be seen¡ªa fishbowl for the elite. And there they were. Grayson sat on a leather sofa, his posture rigid. He held a tablet in one hand, his thumb scrolling aggressively. His brow was furrowed, a deep line etched between his eyes that usually meant he was doing damage control. Belle was draped over him. She sat close, too close, her head resting on his shoulder. She held a ss of red wine, her other hand resting conspicuously on his chest. Isolde stood in the shadows of a potted palm, watching. A few photographers were camped out near the lounge entrance, their lenses trained on the couple through the ss. Every time a sh went off, Belle shifted slightly. She adjusted her hair. She moved her hand so the light caught the massive ring on her finger. It wasn¡¯t a wedding ring¡ªGrayson hadn¡¯t married her yet¡ªbut it was a statement piece, a diamondrge enough to be a promise. Isolde took a sip of her coffee. It was bitter and scalded her tongue. Five years ago, this scene would have ripped her apart. Seeing another woman touching him, seeing him tolerate it, seeing the public disy of a unity she had been denied¡ªit would have sent her spiraling into the bathroom to dry heave. Now? She felt nothing. It was like watching a silent film, a poorly acted melodrama. She saw the tension in Grayson¡¯s jaw. She saw the way he didn¡¯t lean into Belle, but rather held himself still, like a statue tolerating a pigeon. He looked exhausted. He looked like a man holding up a crumbling ceiling. Suddenly, Grayson¡¯s head snapped up. He looked straight through the ss, across the lobby, directly toward the shadows where Isolde stood. For a second, their gazes locked. Or maybe they didn¡¯t. She was wearing a hat and a mask, standing in the dark. He couldn¡¯t possibly know it was her. But his eyes narrowed, searching, a look of intense, almost desperate recognition shing across his face. Isolde¡¯s heart gave a single, hard thud against her ribs. . . . Chapter 39 Chapter 39: She turned on her heel, keeping her head down, and walked briskly toward the elevators. Inside the VIP lounge, Grayson stood up. He walked to the ss wall, his hand pressing against the cool surface. ¡°Gray?¡± Belle¡¯s voice was slurred, thick with wine. ¡°What is it? Are you still thinking about that ¡®Sophia¡¯ woman?¡± Grayson didn¡¯t answer immediately. He watched the elevator doors close on a slender figure in a ck hoodie. The walk. The stride. It was so familiar it made his teeth ache. ¡°No,¡± Grayson said, turning back to the room. ¡°Just a ghost.¡± ¡°Come sit.¡± Belle patted the cushion. ¡°The photographers are still looking.¡± Grayson looked at her. He looked at the wine stain on her lip. He felt a sudden wave of revulsion. ¡°I¡¯m going to bed,¡± he said abruptly. He left her there, posing for an audience of three tired paparazzi. Back in her room, Isolde locked the door and leaned against it, exhaling a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she was holding. §ã??i???????? ??????§Ö???? ??r???????????????? o?? ??????n????§Ö????.?????? Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. A text from Grayson. Grayson: Are you done with this tantrum? I know your mother¡¯s birthday ising up. Don¡¯t you think she has enough to worry about with her health? This public spectacle isn¡¯t helping. Come home. Isolde stared at the screen. Her fingers gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white. He remembered the date. But he didn¡¯t use it to offerfort. He used it as a weapon. He used her mother¡¯s illness¡ªthe very thing that kept Isolde up at night¡ªas a tool to guilt her into submission, to drag her back into the box he had built for her. The audacity was breathtaking. She didn¡¯t reply. She didn¡¯t type a furious paragraph. She simply swiped left and deleted the thread. She walked to the window and looked out at the Manhattan skyline. The city was a grid of lights, indifferent and beautiful. He cared about his reputation. He cared about SkyLine¡¯s stock price. He cared about control. Tomorrow, she wouldn¡¯t just win apetition. She would take the things he cared about and crush them into dust. Behind her, Effie shifted in her sleep. ¡°Mommy¡­ spaceship¡­¡± she mumbled. Isolde turned back to the desk. She sat down, the coffee cooling beside her. She cracked her knuckles again and began to type the final execution code for the simtion. The main hall of the Javits Center was a cavern of noise and light. The air conditioning was sting, but the atmosphere was hot, heavy with the smell of ozone and nervous sweat. Isolde sat at the small table designated for ¡°Team Sophia.¡± She wore ck cargo pants and a ck hoodie. A ck face mask covered the lower half of her face, and a baseball cap shadowed her eyes. On the table sat a small ck box¡ªa voice modtor. Effie sat next to her, wearing a matching, smaller outfit. She looked like a miniature shadow operative. . . . Chapter 40 Chapter 40: On the main stage, Belle Escobar was concluding her presentation. She wore a white power suit that looked tailored to within an inch of its life. Behind her, a massive screen disyed a rendering of ¡°Eden,¡± SkyLine¡¯s proposed Mars colony. It was beautiful. ss domes connected by shimmering tubes, lush gardens visible through the transparent walls. It looked like a five-star resort. ¡°Our ¡®Eden¡¯ system utilizes the most advanced sensorwork in the industry,¡± Belle announced, shing a dazzling smile at the judges. ¡°We prioritize the psychological well-being of the colonists through light and space.¡± Daron McKnight, sitting in the front row of the audience, led a round of enthusiastic apuse. ??e??d ??????§Ö n§àv?????? on ????????????el?.§ão?? Grayson sat next to him. He wasn¡¯t pping. He was staring at the technical specs on his tablet, his brow furrowed. The load-bearing calctions for those ss domes seemed¡­ optimistic. ¡°Thank you, SkyLine,¡± the moderator said. ¡°Now, the challenger. Team Sophia, you have the floor for cross-examination.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t stand up. She didn¡¯t walk to the podium. She simply typed amand into her terminal. The massive screen behind Belle flickered. The beautiful rendering of Eden vanished, reced by a wall of raw data streams. Red numbers cascaded down the disy like a digital bleed. Isolde leaned toward the microphone on her table. She pressed the button on the modtor. ¡°Ms. Escobar,¡± a voice boomed through the hall. It was deep, mechanical, stripped of gender and humanity. It sounded like a machine passing judgment. ¡°What is the thermal runaway threshold for the K-Tech sensors you installed in the life support grid?¡± Belle blinked. She looked at the screen, then at the judges. ¡°That¡­ that is proprietary information. A trade secret.¡± ¡°Incorrect,¡± the mechanical voice said. Isolde typed again. A document appeared on the big screen. It was a purchase order from SkyLine to K-Tech, dated two weeks ago. ¡°ording to public procurement records,¡± the voice continued, ¡°the K-T78 sensor experiences irreversible drift at 400 Kelvin. Mars surface temperatures fluctuate wildly. Your heating systems will push them to the limit.¡± Isolde hit Enter. A simtion began on the screen. It showed the Eden habitat. A heat map oveid the structure. As the virtual sun rose, the sensors in the ss domes began to turn red. ¡°When the sensors drift,¡± the voice said, ¡°the cooling system fails to engage.¡± On the screen, the temperature inside the beautiful ss domes spiked. The virtual nts withered in seconds. The pressure inside the domes rose. ¡°Where is your redundancy?¡± the voice asked. ¡°Or do you n to let the astronauts gamble with their lives?¡± The hall was dead silent. The judges, a panel of NASA veterans and academic elites, leaned forward, putting on their sses to read the scrolling data. Belle¡¯s smile faltered. She looked toward Grayson, panic ring in her eyes. ¡°We¡­ we have a softwarepensation algorithm! It adjusts for the drift!¡± ¡°Software cannotpensate for the physical breakdown of hardware,¡± the voice cut her off. ¡°That is Engineering 101. First semester.¡± The insultnded like a physical p. . . . Chapter 41 Chapter 41: Grayson stood up abruptly. His chair scraped loudly against the floor. His face was a mask of thunder. He knew. He knew instantly that ¡°Sophia¡± was right. It was a rookie mistake, a cost-cutting measure that no real engineer would ever approve. Belle looked at him, pleading for help. Grayson turned his head away, refusing to meet her eyes. Isolde cut the feed. The screen went ck for a second, then lit up with her design. There were no ss domes. No gardens. It was a honeb structure, squat and ugly, half-buried in the Martian regolith. It looked like a bunker. ????§Ñ??§Ö ??§àur t????????h???? ???? ????????????§Öl?.c???? Isolde began to speak, the mechanical voice narrating the schematic. ¡°The Sophia Habitat utilizes a liquid metal coolingyer within the walls,¡± she exined. ¡°It mimics the vascr system of a living organism. It does not fight the environment; it adapts to it.¡± Effie stood up and ced a 3D-printed model of a single honeb cell on the judges¡¯ table. She pressed a button, and blue liquid pulsed through the transparent veins of the model. ¡°Thermal regtion is passive,¡± the voice said. ¡°Zero energy cost. Zero sensor drift risk.¡± The logic was brutal. It was elegant. It was undeniable. Professor Nelson, sitting at the end of the judges¡¯ table, tried to hide a smile. He looked at the woman in the mask and nodded once. Grayson stared at the stage. He stared at the masked figure. The style. The aggression. The absolute refusal topromise function for form. It hit him like a physical blow. He had seen this before. Years ago, during a joint review with the Department of Defense, an anonymous technical assessment from a consultant codenamed ¡°Valkyrie¡± had torn apart apetitor¡¯s prototype with this exact same ruthless efficiency. He looked at the woman¡¯s hands as she typed. Long fingers. No rings. A strange, cold feeling washed over him. He couldn¡¯t connect this terrifying, mechanical genius to Isolde, the woman who baked cookies and organized charity gs. Isolde had abandoned her engineering studies at Columbia right after they were married. Isolde cried when he raised his voice. This woman was a shark. Belle sank into her chair on stage, her face buried in her hands. She knew it was over. Isolde typed one finalmand. The simtion ended with a green checkmark: Survivability: 99.8%. She stood up, took Effie¡¯s hand, and bowed. The apuse started slowly, then erupted into a roar. It wasn¡¯t polite pping. It was the sound of engineers recognizing a master. The trophy was heavy. It was a solid gold cast of a Martian colony, mounted on a piece of meteorite. Isolde held it in one hand, Effie¡¯s hand in the other. They stood on the podium, the stage lights blindingly bright. Isolde kept her mask on. Her eyes, visible under the brim of her cap, were cold and unsmiling. Effie beamed. She hugged the base of the trophy, waving at the crowd with her free hand. She looked like she had just conquered the universe. Below the stage, the SkyLine team was in shambles. Belle had disappeared, reportedly locking herself in the venue¡¯s bathroom to sob. . . . Chapter 42 Chapter 42: Grayson stood near the front, his arms crossed. He wasn¡¯t looking at the exit. He was looking at Sophia. ¡°Get her,¡± Grayson said to Daron, not taking his eyes off the woman on stage. Daron blinked, wiping sweat from his forehead. ¡°What? Boss, Belle is¡ª¡± ¡°Belle is a liability,¡± Grayson cut him off. His voice was devoid of emotion. ¡°She humiliated us. The stock is going to tank tomorrow. We need a win. We need that.¡± He pointed at Sophia. ¡°Offer her whatever she wants. Double the sry. Triple it. I want her at SkyLine by Monday.¡± The ceremony ended. Isolde walked down the steps, immediately surrounded by a swarm of reporters and headhunters. ¡°Sophia! Who are you?¡± ¡°Sophia! Will you reveal your identity?¡± ¡°Sophia! Boeing wants to talk to you!¡± D????ov???? ??i???????? g????? ??? ??????n??v????s.??o?? And Roth stepped in front of her, his broad shoulders acting as a shield. ¡°Back off,¡± he growled. ¡°Noments. Let us through.¡± The crowd parted, but not for And. Grayson Lancaster walked through the throng. People stepped aside instinctively, the aura of wealth and power clearing a path. He stopped in front of Isolde. He looked immacte, even in defeat. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. It was ck, with gold lettering. ¡°Sophia,¡± Grayson said. His voice was smooth, charming¡ªthe voice he used to close billion-dor deals. ¡°I¡¯m Grayson Lancaster, CEO of SkyLine. That was¡­ impressive.¡± He extended the card. Isolde looked at the hand holding it. It was the hand that had ced a ring on her finger. The hand that had signed the checks for Belle¡¯s apartment. The hand that had pushed Effie away in the park. She felt a surge of nausea, followed by a burning, purifying anger. She didn¡¯t take the card. She didn¡¯t offer her hand. She pressed the button on the voice modtor clipped to her cor. ¡°I have no interest,¡± the mechanical voice grated out, loud enough for the nearby reporters to hear, ¡°in apany that cuts safety thresholds to save money.¡± Grayson¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°We can discuss the engineering. I can offer you resources you can¡¯t imagine.¡± ¡°And I have no interest,¡± the voice continued, ¡°in working for a man who mistakes nepotism for talent.¡± Grayson froze. His hand remained extended, the card trembling slightly in the air. The insult was precise. It was personal. Cameras shed. The silence in the immediate circle was deafening. Isolde turned her back on him. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Effie.¡± She walked away, leaving him standing there with his hand out, a king rejected by a peasant. Grayson lowered his hand slowly. He felt a flush of heat rise up his neck. The rejection stung, but the phrasing¡­ the specific, surgical nature of the insult¡­ It didn¡¯t sound like anyone he knew, but the logic felt eerily familiar. It was the cold, analytical scalpel he¡¯d seen in Valkyrie¡¯s reports, finding the one vulnerability he thought was hidden and twisting the knife. The mechanical voice made it impossible to ce, yet the style of the attack left a disquieting echo in his mind. . . . Chapter 43 Chapter 43: No, he told himself. Impossible. Isolde was currently sulking in some cheap hotel, probably crying over old photo albums. She couldn¡¯t calcte thermal loads. She couldn¡¯t code. He watched ¡°Sophia¡± disappear into the backstage exit. ¡°Daddy?¡± Grayson looked down. He realized he wasn¡¯t holding anyone¡¯s hand. He was alone. Backstage, Isolde ripped the mask off her face. She gasped for air, her skin flushed. ¡°Mommy, why didn¡¯t you talk to Daddy?¡± Effie asked, looking up with confused eyes. Isolde knelt down. She brushed a stray hair from Effie¡¯s forehead. ¡°Because the Daddy you knew doesn¡¯t listen to words, baby. He only listens to winning.¡± Nelson limped over, leaning on his cane. ¡°Sterling is asking for your number. He¡¯s offering a remote consultant position. Six figures. Anonymous.¡± Isolde stood up. ¡°Tell him I¡¯ll take it.¡± ??????n§Ö??§Ö ??????e??s ??r???????????????? o?? ????????§àv??????.?????? ¡°Good girl,¡± Nelson grunted. They walked toward the loading dock where And¡¯s car was waiting. Grayson was waiting by the exit ramp. He had intercepted And. ¡°Roth,¡± Grayson barked. ¡°You¡¯re her agent? Who is she?¡± And leaned against his car, a smug smile ying on his lips. ¡°She¡¯s a ghost, Grayson. Someone you created.¡± ¡°Stop the riddles,¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°Name a price.¡± ¡°She¡¯s not for sale,¡± And said. He opened the door for the masked woman approaching them. ¡°And certainly not to you. You had your chance with real talent, and you traded it for a pretty face.¡± Isolde slid into the car. She didn¡¯t look at Grayson. As the car drove away, Grayson stood in the exhaust fumes, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. Someone you created. The words echoed in his head, ominous and unclear. The next morning, the financial news cycle was a bloodbath. SKYLINE HUMILIATED: MYSTERY ENGINEER ¡°SOPHIA¡± EXPOSES SAFETY FLAWS. LANCASTER STOCK DIPS 5% AFTER ISSDC DEBACLE. WHO IS SOPHIA? THE NEW QUEEN OF AEROSPACE. Grayson paced his office. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of a city that suddenly felt like it wasughing at him. ¡°Find her!¡± he roared. He threw a stack of files onto the conference table. Daron flinched. ¡°We¡¯re trying, boss. Her IP addresses are bounced through three different continents. It¡¯s military-grade encryption.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care if she¡¯s routing through the Pentagon!¡± Grayson shouted. ¡°Hire hackers. Hire PIs. I want a name.¡± Belle was nowhere to be seen. She had called in sick, iming a migraine. Grayson knew she was hiding from the board members who were calling for her resignation. His personal phone rang on the desk. He picked it up, expecting hiswyer. It was a reminder. Dinner at Per Se. 7:00 PM. The anniversary. He stared at the phone. In the chaos of thepetition, he hadpletely forgotten. Today was the day. Five years. He rubbed his face. Isolde. He hadn¡¯t spoken to her since the park. She was probably waiting for him to call, to apologize, to fix things. That was the pattern. He messed up, she got quiet, he bought something nice, she forgave him. He dialed her number. It rang. And rang. And rang. . . . Chapter 44 Chapter 44: In a small apartment in Brooklyn, the smell of bacon filled the air. Isolde was flipping pancakes. Effie was sitting at the wobbly table, coloring on the back of a printout of the SkyLine stock chart. Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed on the counter. Grayson. She let it ring for a full minute. She flipped a pancake. She took a sip of orange juice. Finally, she picked it up. ¡°What?¡± ??§àu?? ??????t ????????r?????? ??§Ö??d ???? ???? ??§Ñ????o????????.?????? Grayson¡¯s voice was tight, stressed. ¡°Where are you? We need to talk.¡± ¡°Talk about what?¡± Isolde asked, leaning her hip against the counter. ¡°Harper sent the divorce papers. Did you lose them?¡± ¡°Stop it, Isolde,¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this game. SkyLine is in a crisis. I have board members breathing down my neck. I can¡¯t deal with your drama right now.¡± Isoldeughed softly. ¡°Your crisis seems self-inflicted. Maybe you shouldn¡¯t have let your girlfriend design life-support systems.¡± ¡°Belle made a mistake!¡± Grayson defended instinctively. ¡°It was a vendor issue. You wouldn¡¯t understand the technical details.¡± Isolde stared at the wall. The irony was so thick she could choke on it. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯m just a housewife. What would I know about thermal runaway?¡± Grayson paused. ¡°What did you say?¡± ¡°I said good luck,¡± Isolde covered quickly. ¡°Look,¡± Grayson sighed, his voice softening into a maniptive purr. ¡°Tonight is our anniversary. I kept the reservation at Per Se. Come to dinner. Let¡¯s reset. I¡¯ll get Effie into the best schools. I¡¯ll set up a trust. Just¡­e home. Stop being difficult.¡± Stop being difficult. Trantion: Stop having a personality. Stop having needs. Be the furniture. ¡°Grayson,¡± Isolde said quietly. ¡°You don¡¯t love me. You love having a fan.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± he protested. ¡°It is. And I¡¯m done pping.¡± ¡°Isolde, if you hang up¡ª¡± She hung up. She tossed the phone onto the sofa. ¡°Who was that?¡± Effie asked, mouth full of pancake. ¡°Nobody,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Just a wrong number.¡± Back in his office, Grayson stared at his phone in disbelief. She had hung up on him. Again. He felt a surge of rage. How dare she? When he was down? When hispany was bleeding? He sat down at hisputer. On the screen, the search for ¡°Sophia¡± was still running, returning zero results. He didn¡¯t know that the ghost he was hunting and the wife he was dismissing were the same person. The gap in his perception was a canyon, and he was falling into it. He grabbed a velvet box from his drawer. He had bought it weeks ago, just in case. ¡°Send this to her,¡± he barked at his assistant who was hovering by the door. ¡°Find out where she¡¯s staying and deliver it by hand.¡± ¡°Yes, Mr. Lancaster.¡± Grayson turned back to the window. She woulde. She always came back. The ring was a pink diamond. No woman walked away from a pink diamond. The doorbell of the Brooklyn apartment buzzed at 4:00 PM. Isolde was on the floor, helping Effie construct aplex bridge out of Lego. ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± Isolde said. She checked the peephole. . . . Chapter 45 Chapter 45: It was a young man in a suit, looking terrified. He held arge velvet box with the SkyLine logo embossed on the bag. Isolde opened the door but blocked the entrance with her body. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster?¡± the assistant squeaked. ¡°Mr. Lancaster asked me to deliver this.¡± He held out the box. Isolde looked at it. She didn¡¯t take it. ¡°Why isn¡¯t he here?¡± ¡°He¡­ he has an urgent meeting. Crisis management.¡± Isolde scoffed. ¡°Of course. He¡¯s too important to visit Brooklyn.¡± ??§àl??§àw us ???? ????l??????§Ö??s.?????? ¡°He said¡­ he said this is a peace offering. And he expects you at dinner at 7:00.¡± Isolde took the box. She opened it. Inside sat a pink diamond the size of a quail egg. It was nked by two smaller white diamonds. It was gaudy. It was expensive. It screamed, I have money, please shut up. It was a shackle made of carbon. Isolde looked at the assistant. ¡°Does he think I left because the jewelry wasn¡¯t big enough?¡± ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know, ma¡¯am.¡± Isolde snapped the box shut. She shoved it back into the assistant¡¯s chest. ¡°Take it back.¡± The assistant¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I can¡¯t. He¡¯ll fire me.¡± ¡°Tell him,¡± Isolde said, her voice hard, ¡°that some things are broken, and diamonds can¡¯t fix them. Tell him to give it to Belle. It matches her ambition.¡± She mmed the door. She leaned against the wood, listening to the assistant¡¯s retreating footsteps. At 6:00 PM, Grayson was in his office. The assistant had returned with the ring. Grayson stared at the rejected box on his desk. His face was pale. ¡°She returned it?¡± he whispered. ¡°She said¡­ she said to give it to Ms. Escobar,¡± the assistant stammered. Daron, lounging on the sofa, whistled. ¡°Damn. She¡¯s ying hardball. She wants more.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a pink diamond, Daron!¡± Grayson shouted. ¡°What more is there?¡± ¡°Respect?¡± the assistant whispered, then immediately looked down. Grayson ignored him. Belle walked in. She looked recovered, her makeup wless. ¡°Gray, honey. Kaiden is burning up. He¡¯s asking for you. He keeps crying for his daddy.¡± Grayson looked at his watch. 6:15 PM. If he left now, he could make the dinner. But Isolde had rejected the ring. She probably wouldn¡¯t show up. And Kaiden¡­ Kaiden was his son. His responsibility. ¡°Is he really sick?¡± Grayson asked suspiciously. ¡°He¡¯s hot to the touch,¡± Belle said, her eyes wide and innocent. ¡°Please, Gray. He needs you.¡± Grayson looked at the ring. He looked at Belle. He felt a wave of exhaustion. Isolde was being difficult. Belle was being needy. ¡°Fine,¡± Grayson said. ¡°I¡¯m not going to sit in a restaurant alone like an idiot. Let¡¯s go to Kaiden.¡± Belle smiled. It was a small, victorious smirk. At 6:30 PM, Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed. It was a photo from Harper. It showed Grayson carrying Kaiden out of the penthouse building, Belle walking closely beside them. They looked like a unit. A family. Isolde looked at the timestamp. 6:25 PM. He had chosen them. Again. Even on their anniversary. Even after the ¡°peace offering.¡± When push came to shove, he went to Belle. . . . Chapter 46 Chapter 46: Isolde felt a strange sense of peace settle over her. Thest thread of doubt, the tiny voice that whispered maybe he cares, finally snapped. She picked up her phone. She typed a message to Grayson. Isolde: Don¡¯t wait for me. I¡¯m noting. Give the ring to the person you actually chose. She hit send. Then she turned off her phone and went back to the Legos. ¡°Mommy,¡± Effie said, holding up a stic brick. ¡°This piece doesn¡¯t fit.¡± ¡°Then we find a new one,¡± Isolde said, kissing the top of her head. ¡°We build something better.¡± Grayson sat at the head of the long table in the private dining room at Per Se. ????v?? ???????? ??????§à??i???? ????????ls o?? ????ln§à??e??s.?????? He hade anyway. After dropping Belle and Kaiden off¡ªKaiden turned out to have a mild temperature, nothing serious¡ªGrayson had felt a gnawing anxiety. He had driven to the restaurant, hoping, irrationally, that she might be there. The room was dimly lit by candles. A centerpiece of white roses¡ªher favorite¡ªsat mocking him. The chair opposite him was empty. He poured himself a ss of whiskey. He drank it in one swallow. He looked at the velvet box sitting on the tablecloth. The pink diamond glittered in the candlelight. It looked cold. His phone buzzed. A text from Belle. Belle: Kaiden is asleep. Thank you for being such a good dad. You¡¯re my hero. Grayson stared at the words. My hero. It felt hollow. He realized, with a start, that Belle always praised him when he did what she wanted. It was transactional affection. The door to the private room opened. Grayson¡¯s head snapped up. Isolde walked in. She wasn¡¯t wearing a gown. She was wearing jeans and a simple white blouse. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun. She wore no makeup. She looked beautiful. And she looked like a stranger. Grayson stood up, knocking his chair back. ¡°Isolde. You came.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t smile. She walked to the table. She didn¡¯t sit. She was holding arge man envelope. ¡°I¡¯m not staying,¡± she said. Her voice was calm, devoid of the anger he expected. ¡°Please,¡± Grayson gestured to the chair. ¡°Just sit. Have a drink. We can talk.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. She upended the envelope over the table. Items ttered onto the pristine white tablecloth. Her old wedding ring¡ªthe five-carat solitaire. The ess fobs for the penthouse. The ess fobs for the Hamptons house. The ck Amex card. The ess fobs for the Bentley he had bought her for her birthday. They made a discordant jingle as they settled next to the pink diamond. ¡°What is this?¡± Grayson asked, his voice trembling. ¡°This is everything you gave me,¡± Isolde said. ¡°This is the identity you bought for me. Mrs. Lancaster. The trophy wife. The mother to your mistress¡¯s son.¡± ¡°Isolde, stop,¡± Grayson pleaded. He reached for her hand. She stepped back. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± ¡°We can fix this,¡± Grayson said desperately. ¡°I¡¯ll fire Belle. I¡¯ll send her away. Just tell me what you want.¡± . . . Chapter 47 Chapter 47: Isolde looked at him with profound pity. ¡°You still don¡¯t get it. I don¡¯t want you to do anything for me, Grayson. I just want to be away from you.¡± ¡°Is it the money?¡± Grayson pointed at the pile. ¡°You have nothing! How will you live?¡± ¡°I have myself,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And I have Effie. That¡¯s enough.¡± She pointed at the pink diamond. ¡°Give that to Belle. It suits her. It¡¯s shy and hard.¡± ????????t§Ös ??ve???? ??e???? §à?? ??????????????l?.§ã§à?? She turned to leave. ¡°If you walk out that door,¡± Grayson shouted, his voice cracking, ¡°I will destroy you! I will drag this divorce out for ten years! I will bleed you dry in legal fees!¡± Isolde stopped. She looked back over her shoulder. ¡°Do your worst, Grayson,¡± she said softly. ¡°You can¡¯t take anything from someone who has already lost everything that mattered.¡± She walked out. The door clicked shut. Grayson stood in the silence. He looked at the pile of fobs. He looked at the rings. He let out a roar of frustration and swept his arm across the table. The ss, the flowers, the diamonds¡ªeverything crashed to the floor in a shattered heap. He sank into the chair, burying his face in his hands. He picked up his phone and dialed hiswyer. ¡°Stop the settlement talks,¡± Grayson rasped. ¡°Contest everything. Custody, assets, the dog. I don¡¯t care. Make her life a living hell.¡± If he couldn¡¯t have her love, he would have her hate. At least then, she would still be thinking about him. The apartment was dark when Isolde returned. She tiptoed into the bedroom. Effie was thrashing in her sleep. ¡°No¡­ Daddy, no¡­¡± Effie whimpered. ¡°Don¡¯t push¡­ don¡¯t push.¡± Isolde froze. Her blood turned to ice. She rushed to the bed and sat down, stroking Effie¡¯s damp forehead. ¡°Shh, baby. Mommy¡¯s here. You¡¯re safe.¡± Effie curled into a ball, clutching her nket. ¡°He likes Kaiden¡­ he doesn¡¯t like me¡­¡± Isolde looked at the bedside table. There was a drawing Effie had made earlier. It was a picture of a house. Inside, two stick figures held hands¡ªIsolde and Effie. They were smiling. In the corner of the page, far away from the house, was a ck scribble. A chaotic, angry knot of dark crayon. Underneath it, in shaky letters, Effie had written: DADDY. Isolde picked up the paper. Her hands shook. She had known leaving wouldn¡¯t be enough, that the wounds wouldn¡¯t heal overnight. But the damage was deeper, more insidious than she had imagined. Grayson wasn¡¯t a father to Effie; he was a monster in the corner of the page. He was the man who pushed her away to save the bully. Tears pricked Isolde¡¯s eyes. She wiped them away furiously. Crying wouldn¡¯t help. Effie didn¡¯t need a sad mother. She needed a warrior. Effie woke up with a gasp. She saw Isolde and threw her arms around her neck. ¡°Mommy, don¡¯t leave me.¡± ¡°Never,¡± Isolde vowed, squeezing her tight. ¡°I am never leaving you. And nobody is ever going to push you around again.¡± The next morning, Isolde took Effie to a child psychologist rmended by Harper. . . . Chapter 48 Chapter 48: Dr. Evans was a kind woman with gray hair and a soft voice. After an hour with Effie, she called Isolde into the office. ¡°She¡¯s traumatized,¡± Dr. Evans said bluntly. ¡°She feels abandoned and reced. But she¡¯s also incredibly resilient. And highly intelligent.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Isolde said. ¡°She needs to rebuild her confidence,¡± Dr. Evans advised. ¡°She needs to be in an environment where she can excel. Where she can prove to herself that she has value, independent of her father¡¯s approval.¡± Isolde nodded. She knew what she had to do. ¡°St. Jude¡¯s,¡± Isolde said. Dr. Evans raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s a verypetitive school. And¡­ isn¡¯t that where her brother goes?¡± ¡°Step-brother,¡± Isolde corrected. ¡°And yes. It¡¯s the best school in the city for math and science.¡± ??§Ö?? w??e????y §ãh??§ât?????? ??n ????????o???????.c???? ¡°It could be a trigger,¡± Dr. Evans warned. ¡°Or it could be a victory,¡± Isolde said. ¡°She needs to face the monster, Doctor. She needs to realize she¡¯s smarter than him.¡± That night, Isolde sat Effie down at the table. ¡°How would you like to go to a school with a roboticsb?¡± Isolde asked. Effie¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Real robots?¡± ¡°Real robots. And advanced math.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Effie hesitated. ¡°Kaiden goes there.¡± ¡°He does,¡± Isolde said. ¡°But Kaiden is in the regr ss. You, my love, are going to try out for the Gifted Program.¡± Effie looked at the logic puzzle book on the table. She picked up a pencil. ¡°Will I beat him?¡± Effie asked. Isolde smiled. ¡°Effie, you¡¯re going top him.¡± They spent the next week preparing. Effie devoured the logic problems. Her mind worked in patterns Isolde recognized¡ªit was the same way she saw aerodynamics. Watching her daughter solve aplex matrix in seconds, Isolde felt a fierce pride swell in her chest. They had thrown away a diamond because they were too busy polishing a piece of coal. ¡°Ready?¡± Isolde asked on the night before the entrance exam. Effie grinned. ¡°Ready tounch.¡± Isolde needed Effie¡¯s birth certificate and vination records for the St. Jude¡¯s application. They were locked in the safe at the penthouse. She timed her visit carefully. 2:00 PM on a Wednesday. Grayson would be at SkyLine, dealing with the fallout of the Sophia disaster. Belle would be at the spa or shopping. Kaiden would be at school. She took a deep breath and pulled out her phone. She didn¡¯t have a key; she had something better. Years ago, while setting up the penthouse¡¯s ¡°imprable¡± smart home system, she¡¯d embedded a ghost protocol, a master override only she knew existed. A few taps on a custom app, and the electronic lock on the front door clicked open with a soft, obedient chime. She knew it was a risk; if Grayson discovered a clean breach, his mind might leap to the one engineer who could pull it off. But his arrogance was her shield. He would assume a glitch or a forgetful nanny before he would ever suspect her. The penthouse was silent. As she stepped inside, a smell hit her. It wasn¡¯t the smell of lemon polish or fresh flowers anymore. It was heavy. Floral. Musky. . . . Chapter 49 Chapter 49: Midnight Rose. It was Belle¡¯s perfume. Isolde wrinkled her nose. The scent was everywhere. It clung to the curtains, the sofa, the air itself. It was as if the apartment had been marked. She walked quickly to the study. She opened the wall safe¡ªthe code was still her birthday,zily unchanged¡ªand grabbed the documents. She was turning to leave when she heard the front door beep. I?st?????? ????c??s?? §à?? ????l??????e???.?????? Isolde froze. ¡°I hate school!¡± a voice screamed. Kaiden. The nanny dragged him in. Kaiden threw his backpack on the floor. He looked up and saw Isolde standing in the hallway. For a second, he looked surprised. Then a nasty sneer curled his lip. ¡°You¡¯re back,¡± Kaiden said. He didn¡¯t sound happy. He sounded entitled. ¡°Make me a sandwich. I¡¯m hungry.¡± Isolde stared at him. ¡°Hello to you too, Kaiden.¡± ¡°Turkey and cheese,¡± Kaiden ordered, walking toward the kitchen. ¡°Cut the crusts off. The nanny does it wrong.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t move. ¡°I¡¯m not your maid, Kaiden. Ask your nanny.¡± Kaiden stomped his foot. ¡°Dad said you¡¯re supposed to take care of us! That¡¯s your job!¡± Isolde felt a spike of anger. That¡¯s your job. That¡¯s what Grayson had told him. That she was staff. The front door opened again. Grayson walked in. He looked disheveled. His tie was loose, his eyes bloodshot. He smelled of scotch and¡­ Midnight Rose. He stopped when he saw Isolde. His eyes widened, a flicker of hope sparking in the dull gray. ¡°Isolde?¡± He took a step forward. ¡°You came back. I knew you would.¡± Isolde held up the man envelope. ¡°I came for Effie¡¯s papers. For school.¡± Grayson¡¯s face fell. The hope vanished, reced by irritation. ¡°Just papers? You hacked into my house for papers?¡± ¡°It was my house too, Grayson. Until three days ago.¡± Kaiden ran to Grayson and hugged his leg. ¡°Dad! She won¡¯t make me a sandwich!¡± Grayson looked down at his son, then at Isolde. He looked exhausted. He rubbed his temples, a gesture of pure fatigue. ¡°Isolde, please,¡± he said, the words slipping out from a ce of old habit rather than conscious thought. ¡°Just make him a sandwich. He¡¯s hungry. You know how he likes it.¡± Isolde looked at him as if he had grown a second head. ¡°Are you serious?¡± she asked. The cold disbelief in her tone seemed to snap him out of his stupor. He blinked, a flicker of awareness crossing his face as he realized what he¡¯d just said in their now-hostile reality. His exhaustion curdled into defensive anger. ¡°It¡¯s a sandwich,¡± he snapped. ¡°Don¡¯t be petty. You used to love him.¡± ¡°I used to love a lot of things in this house,¡± Isolde said coldly. ¡°Before they rotted.¡± She sniffed the air. ¡°And speaking of rot¡­ you might want to open a window. The smell of your mistress is suffocating.¡± Grayson flushed. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Belle left some samples here. Don¡¯t start.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not starting anything,¡± Isolde said. She walked past him toward the door. ¡°I¡¯m finishing it.¡± . . . Chapter 50 Chapter 50: Grayson grabbed her arm. ¡°You can¡¯t just walk out!¡± Isolde looked at his hand on her arm. Her gaze was lethal. ¡°Let go,¡± she whispered. Grayson let go. He stepped back, unnerved by the intensity in her eyes. Isolde opened the door. ¡°I want my sandwich!¡± Kaiden screamed, throwing a toy car at her. It hit the doorframe with a crack. Isolde didn¡¯t flinch. She stepped out into the hallway. ¡°Goodbye, Grayson,¡± she said. She closed the door. From inside, she heard the sound of a chair being kicked over and a string of curses. §å?????? ??????ly ??§à??? §à?? ??§à??????s ???? ????l????v§Ö??s.????m She walked to the elevator, clutching the birth certificate to her chest. The air in the hallway was stale, butpared to the penthouse, it smelled like freedom. The next morning, a ghost of unease prompted Isolde to check the penthouse¡¯s internal security logs through her backdoor ess. She just wanted to confirm her entry and exit had gone unnoticed. But what she saw made her blood run cold. The master bedroom¡¯s upancy sensor, which should have been dormant, had been active all night. Not just on Grayson¡¯s side of the bed, but on hers. Then she saw the climate control logs. The system had auto-adjusted the temperature at 3:00 AM, citing two body heat signatures. Belle wasn¡¯t just a visitor. She had moved in. She was sleeping in their bed. Isolde froze. Her hand gripped the phone. She knew about the affair. She knew about Kaiden. But the cold, hard data confirming Belle¡¯s presence in the bed where Isolde had conceived Effie¡­ it was a visceral vition. It confirmed everything. Belle wasn¡¯t just a mistress. She had reced Isolde in the sheets before the divorce papers were even signed. Isolde ran to the bathroom and dry heaved over the sink. It wasn¡¯t jealousy. It was disgust. Pure, physical revulsion. She had spent five years trying to please a man who had reced her with that. She washed her face with cold water. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, but hard. ¡°Enough,¡± she said to her reflection. Her cold fury drove her to dig deeper. If Belle was this brazen, she was also careless. Isolde scanned the activity logs for the penthouse¡¯s smart home devices. There, timestamped from two nights ago, was an audio file captured by the living room¡¯s voice-activated assistant. She yed it. Belle¡¯s voice, sharine and sharp, filled the small apartment. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about Effie¡¯s little drawings, sweetie,¡± she cooed to Kaiden. ¡°When we redecorate her room for you, we¡¯ll throw all that sad little scribbling in the trash.¡± She walked out and grabbed her cell phone. She dialed Harper. . . . Chapter 51 Chapter 51: ¡°Harper,¡± Isolde said, her voice steady. ¡°I¡¯m sending you the security logs from the penthouse fromst night. And an audio file. I want to use them to file for an emergency motion. Not just for adultery¡ªI want to argue that he is creating an unstable and inappropriate environment for a child, one where the new partner actively ns to erase Effie¡¯s presence. I want to challenge his visitation rights.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Harper shouted on the other end. ¡°Finally! We can go for the jugr. This is exactly the leverage we need.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want his money,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I want the truth on public record. I want everyone to know what he is.¡± ¡°Consider it done,¡± Harper said. Isolde hung up. She looked at her apartment door. She called a locksmith. ¡°I need my locks changed,¡± she told the dispatcher. ¡°High security. Today.¡± ¡°Did you have a break-in, ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯m just closing a door.¡± Back at the penthouse, Belle stretched in bed. She had no idea she had been discovered. Grayson walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Steam billowed out behind him. ????e ???????? ????v?????? ??n ????l?????e????.?????? ¡°I have to go,¡± he said, looking at his watch. ¡°The board meeting is at 9.¡± ¡°Kaiden wants to go to Disney World,¡± Belle said, watching him dress. ¡°I can¡¯t go to Disney,¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°Thepany is on fire.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take him,¡± Belle offered. ¡°You just pay for the VIP tour. It¡¯ll get him out of your hair.¡± Grayson looked at her. It felt¡­ cold. Transactional. Like she was offering a service for a fee. But he needed peace. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°Use the ck card.¡± Belle¡¯s smile widened. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Gray.¡± She didn¡¯t say I love you. She said You¡¯re the best provider. Grayson felt a pang of emptiness, but he pushed it down. He buttoned his shirt and left for work, unaware that the locks on his past life were being changed forever. The morning of the St. Jude¡¯s entrance interviews was bright and crisp. Isolde dressed Effie in a smart navy dress. She wore a tailored zer and trousers herself¡ªprofessional, formidable. ¡°Remember,¡± Isolde told Effie in the car. ¡°You are smart. You are capable. You belong there.¡± ¡°I belong there,¡± Effie repeated. They arrived at the school. It was a castle of red brick and ivy, screaming old money. It was also Parent-Teacher Conference day for the current students. The parking lot was full. Isolde walked Effie to the admissions office. ¡°Go get ¡¯em, tiger.¡± Effie marched in, clutching her pencil case. Isolde waited in the courtyard near the yground. She checked her emails. A message from Sterling: Contract ready. Wee aboard, Sophia. She smiled. ¡°Well, look who it is.¡± Isolde looked up. Belle was walking toward her, wearing a pastel sundress and holding a designer coffee cup. Kaiden was running circles around her. ¡°Stalking us?¡± Belle asked, taking a sip of hertte. ¡°My daughter is interviewing,¡± Isolde said calmly. ¡°Effie?¡± Belleughed. ¡°Here? Honey, this is an academic school. Maybe try a vocational center.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t take the bait. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine.¡± Just then, the doors opened. Effie walked out, a sticker from the examiner on her cor. She looked tired but relieved. She saw Isolde and started to run toward her. Kaiden saw her too. He sprinted across the grass. ¡°Hey! Weirdo!¡± . . . Chapter 52 Chapter 52: He intercepted Effie. He grabbed the book she was holding¡ªa math workbook¡ªand threw it into a puddle. ¡°Kaiden!¡± Isolde shouted, starting to move. ¡°This is my school!¡± Kaiden yelled. ¡°Get out!¡± He shoved Effie. Hard. Effie stumbled back. Her foot caught a root, and she fell onto the paved path. Her knee hit the stone with a sickening crunch. ¡°Ow!¡± Effie¡¯s cry was sharp and pained, and she immediately clutched her leg. Blood started to seep through her white tights. Isolde saw red. The world narrowed to a tunnel. The sound of the other parents gasping faded away. She was across the grass in three seconds. ??????¡¯t ???????? ?????? ????l?????????? ??? g???????????????.§ã??m She didn¡¯t go to Effie first. She went to Kaiden. She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. ¡°Hey!¡± Belle shrieked, dropping her coffee. ¡°Don¡¯t touch him!¡± Isolde ignored her. She loomed over Kaiden. Her face was a mask of fury. ¡°You will never touch her again,¡± Isolde hissed. ¡°Do you understand?¡± Kaiden, usually so brave, looked into her eyes and saw something terrifying. He shrank back. Belle rushed forward and shoved Isolde. ¡°Get away from my son! It was an ident! They were ying!¡± Isolde turned on Belle. She didn¡¯t touch her. Instead, she took a single, deliberate step forward, invading Belle¡¯s personal space with such cold intensity that Belle instinctively took a step back. The expensive silk of Belle¡¯s dress seemed to shrink away from the sheer force of Isolde¡¯s anger. ¡°ying?¡± Isolde¡¯s voice was a low growl. ¡°He pushed her. He bullied her.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a child!¡± Belle screamed, trying to regain her footing. ¡°Help! She¡¯s crazy!¡± A crowd of parents and teachers had gathered. Isolde didn¡¯t raise her voice. She leaned into Belle¡¯s ear, her whisper a de meant only for her. ¡°Control your son,¡± Isolde murmured, the words cutting through the air like a knife. ¡°Or I will burn down everything you¡¯ve built. You think your position is secure? You think Grayson¡¯s name protects you? I know about the ¡®consulting fee¡¯ your father¡¯spany paid to that shell corporation in the Cayman Indsst year. Let him hurt my daughter one more time, and I will make sure the SEC knows it too.¡± Belle went rigid. Her face drained of color. Her eyes darted to the listening parents, a wave of pure terror washing over her features. ¡°You¡­ you wouldn¡¯t,¡± Belle stammered. ¡°Try me,¡± Isolde said. ¡°This isn¡¯t a threat. It¡¯s a guarantee.¡± She stepped back, creating a chasm of space between them. Belle stumbled, nearly tripping over her own heels. Kaiden started to wail. Isolde turned to the shocked crowd. ¡°My daughter is a genius,¡± she announced, her voice ringing clear. ¡°She justpleted your entrance exam. I have full confidence that if this school values merit, its evaluation will reflect her capabilities. And if this school cannot protect its gifted students from bullies, I will sue the board for negligence. Is that clear?¡± The headmaster, who had just arrived, nodded frantically. ¡°Crystal clear, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Ms. Carson,¡± Isolde corrected. . . . Chapter 53 Chapter 53: She walked over to Effie, scooped her up into her arms, and carried her toward the car. ¡°Does it hurt?¡± Isolde asked softly. ¡°A lot,¡± Effie sniffled into her shoulder, her small body trembling. ¡°But you were scary, Mommy.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Isolde said, kissing her cheek. ¡°Sometimes you have to be scary to keep the monsters away.¡± ????s??????? ??????§Ö???? o?? ??§Ñ??nov??????.??om She put Effie in the car. She pulled out her phone and texted Harper. Isolde: The situation at St. Jude¡¯s escted. File the emergency motion now. The air in the school courtyard was thick, heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and the metallic tang of adrenaline. Isolde stood her ground. Her chest heaved ¡ª not from exertion, but from the sheer force of the rage she was suppressing. Across from her, Belle Escobar smoothed the front of her pastel dress, her fingers trembling as she adjusted her cor. She looked like a porcin doll that had been dropped and hastily glued back together. Isolde turned and took Effie¡¯s hand to lead her to the car. The immediate confrontation was over; extraction was the priority. But as she reached for the handle of the Volvo, a furious shout cut through the air. Kaiden was red-faced. He looked at his mother, then at Isolde, and finally at Effie, who was clutching her bleeding knee while leaning against the car door. ¡°You hurt my mom!¡± Kaiden screamed. He didn¡¯t run to Belle. He ran at Effie. He was fast, fueled by a spoiled child¡¯s unchecked entitlement. He raised a fist, his face twisted into a snarl that looked far too old for a five-year-old. Effie flinched. She curled into herself, throwing her hands over her head. It was a reflex ¡ª a muscle memory carved into her small body by months of silent torment in a penthouse that was supposed to be a home. Isolde¡¯s heart stopped. Then it restarted with a violent thud. ¡°Effie, look at me!¡± Isolde¡¯s voice cracked through the air like a whip. ¡°Don¡¯t hide!¡± Effie froze. She peeked through her fingers. She saw her mother standing there ¡ª not the woman who cried in the bathroom, but a tower of ck-d steel. Isolde¡¯s eyes were burning. ¡°If someone hits you,¡± Isolde said, her voice low and dangerous, ¡°you hit them back. Hard.¡± Kaiden¡¯s fist came down. This time, Effie didn¡¯t close her eyes. She shifted her weight. She didn¡¯t use technique; she used pure, desperate instinct. She shoved both hands against Kaiden¡¯s chest. It was a release of kic energy she had been storing for five years. Kaiden stumbled back. His expensive loafers slipped on the wet grass. He iled, arms windmilling, before hended hard on his backside in a puddle of muddy water. Ssh. Mud sttered up his pristine St. Jude¡¯s uniform, coating his legs, his hands, his shocked face. Silence descended on the courtyard. Absolute, suffocating silence. The quiet girl who drew rockets and folded paper stood panting, her hands still outstretched. . . . Chapter 54 Chapter 54: Kaiden sat there for a moment, processing the indignity. Then he opened his mouth, and a wail erupted from him ¡ª a sound of pure, unadulterated misery. He scrambled in the mud, a desperate, half-formed word rising in his throat, a cry for his primary caregiver born of pure instinct. It wasn¡¯t a casual slip. But before the full name could detonate in the charged air, Belle rushed forward, her heels sinking into the turf, and mped a hand over Kaiden¡¯s mouth. The parents standing nearby stopped whispering. Their feigned ignorance evaporated. They exchanged nces that said everything. ¡°Did you hear that? He almost called Ms. Escobar¡­¡± a woman in pearls whispered to her husband. Belle¡¯s face went from pale to ghostly white. The blood drained from her lips. ¡°Shh! Kaiden, stop it!¡± she hissed. She looked up at the crowd, her smile brittle and terrifying. ¡°He¡¯s in shock. He¡¯s confused. He calls me that sometimes because I¡¯m his godmother. It¡¯s a term of endearment.¡± Isolde let out a short, sharpugh. It sounded like ss breaking. She crossed her arms, leaning back on her heels. ¡°Is that so? Godmothers must have changed since my time. He seems very¡­ attached.¡± D?????load???????? P?????? o?? ??§Ñ??n????????s.??§à?? Grayson¡¯s public rtions manager, a man who had been lurking in the shadow of the administration building, sprinted into the fray. He began ushering people away, using his body to block the line of sight. ¡°Show¡¯s over, folks! Just a yground spat. Please, clear the area.¡± Belle scooped up the muddy, screaming boy. She didn¡¯t look at Isolde. She ran toward the waiting ck SUV as though the devil himself were snapping at her heels. Isolde didn¡¯t watch them go. She dropped to her knees in front of Effie. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and gently wiped a speck of dirt from Effie¡¯s cheek. Effie was trembling, but her eyes were wide and clear. ¡°You did good, baby,¡± Isolde whispered. Effie looked at her hands and flexed her fingers slowly. ¡°Mommy,¡± she said, her voice filled with wonder. ¡°I¡¯m not scared of him.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said, kissing her forehead. ¡°You never have to be scared of him again.¡± Isolde stood and took Effie¡¯s hand. They walked out of the school gates with their backs straight, leaving the chaos behind them. As they settled into their car, Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed. Harper: I¡¯m seeing videos of the incident popping up all over the school¡¯s parent social media groups. Three different angles. The audio of his cry is muffled but damning. We¡¯ve got them. Isolde typed back with one hand. Isolde: Hold it. Let them sweat. Let the rumors do the work first. Inside the Lancaster SUV, the atmosphere was poisonous. Belle was frantically scrubbing mud off Kaiden¡¯s zer with a wet wipe. ¡°I told you never to use that word in public!¡± she snapped. ¡°Do you want to ruin everything?¡± Kaiden sobbed harder, his face streaked with tears and dirt. He didn¡¯t understand. He was hurt, and he was being yelled at. Grayson¡¯s voice came over the car¡¯s speakerphone. It was cold. Detached. ¡°I don¡¯t care what happened. The board is calling me,¡± Grayson said. ¡°They want to know why my son is calling my VP ¡®Mommy¡¯ in a way that¡¯s about to hit Page Six. Handle it.¡± . . . Chapter 55 Chapter 55: ¡°He was scared, Gray!¡± Belle cried, her voice pitching up into hysteria. ¡°Isolde incited violence! She told Effie to attack him!¡± ¡°Enough,¡± Grayson said. He sounded tired. ¡°Mother is handling it. She¡¯s going to the school tomorrow.¡± Belle froze. Victoria. ¡°Victoria ising?¡± Belle asked, her voice small. ¡°Yes. To clean up your mess.¡± The line went dead. Belle stared at the phone. A slow, cruel smile touched her lips. Victoria Lancaster hated ipetence ¡ª but she hated Isolde Carson more. By the next morning, the Upper East Side rumor mill was churning out sludge. Did you hear? The ex-wife ordered her daughter to beat up the Lancaster heir. I heard the girl is violent. Unstable. Just like her mother. Isolde sat at her small kitchen table in Brooklyn, sipping ck coffee. She scrolled through the parents¡¯ group chat on WhatsApp ¡ª someone had leaked the invite link to her. ??§à????l????d P?????? ??????§Ö §à?? g§Ñl???v????s.??o?? Belle had posted a photo. It was a close-up of Kaiden¡¯s knee adorned with a cartoon band-aid. Caption: Heartbroken. Violence has no ce in education. We must protect our children. Below it, a stream of sycophanticments poured in. So sorry, Belle! That woman is dangerous. Poor Kaiden. Isolde didn¡¯t type a response. She didn¡¯t defend herself. She simply took a screenshot and saved it to a folder named Evidence. An hourter, an email st went out from St. Jude¡¯s. Subject: Junior Math Olympiad & Selection Process To quell the unrest and ¡°refocus on academic excellence,¡± the school announced an expedited selection for the State Math Olympiad. It was a thinly veiled attempt to shift the narrative from yground brawls to prestige. It was a battlefield. Belle wasted no time. She posted again, this time on Instagram ¡ª a photo of Kaiden sitting in front of a stack of books he couldn¡¯t read. Caption: True nobility is shown through the mind, not fists. Prepping for the Olympiad! #FutureLeader Isolde looked at Effie. The girl was sitting on the floor, arranging dry pasta noodles into geometric fractals. ¡°Effie,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Do you want to y a game with numbers?¡± Effie looked up. ¡°Like the rocket math?¡± ¡°Yes. But against other kids. Against Kaiden.¡± Effie¡¯s eyes darkened slightly, then cleared. ¡°I want to win,¡± she said softly. ¡°I want to beat him with numbers.¡± Isolde smiled. She filled out the registration form. She didn¡¯t hire a tutor. She didn¡¯t buy a prep course. Grayson texted her at noon. Grayson: I saw Effie¡¯s name on the list. Don¡¯t do this. Kaiden has been testing in the 98th percentile. Don¡¯t set her up for humiliation just to spite me. Isolde read the message, a cold smile touching her lips. The arrogance. The utter blindness. He still saw Effie as a pawn, a reflection of his own ego. Engaging with him was pointless ¡ª like arguing with a recording. She held her thumb over the screen, swiped left, and deleted the entire conversation thread. Her silence was a more powerful weapon than any retort. She put the phone down. That evening, in the penthouse, the air was thick with frustration. . . . Chapter 56 Chapter 56: Belle sat next to Kaiden at the marble ind. A team of three tutors ¡ª Columbia graduate students ¡ª stood nervously nearby. ¡°Kaiden, focus!¡± Belle snapped. ¡°What is 15 plus 27?¡± Kaiden kicked the table leg. ¡°I don¡¯t know! I want to y Minecraft!¡± ¡°You can y when you solve this!¡± Belle mmed her hand on the table. Kaiden threw his pencil. ¡°You said you¡¯d buy me the new car if I just sat here! You lied!¡± Belle grabbed his shoulders. ¡°Listen to me. You have to beat her. You have to beat the girl who pushed you. Do you want her tough at you?¡± Kaiden pouted and scribbled a random number on the page. It was wrong. Belle rubbed her temples and looked at the tutors. ¡°Just¡­ make him memorize the answers. I¡¯ll get the test bank. Whatever it costs.¡± In Brooklyn, the scene was different. The apartment was quiet. The smell of boiling pasta filled the air. ?????????se ?o??§Öl?? ??r??????????te?? o?? ???????§àv§Öl?.?????? Isolde ced a sheet of paper in front of Effie. It wasn¡¯t simple addition ¡ª it was a logic sequence intended for middle schoolers. If A > B and B = C, what is the rtionship between A and C? Effie didn¡¯t ask for help. She didn¡¯t count on her fingers. She stared at the paper for three seconds. Then she wrote: A > C. Isolde blinked. She slid another paper across the table ¡ª aplex pattern recognition puzzle. Effie solved it in five seconds. ¡°How are you doing that?¡± Isolde asked, her voice hushed. Effie tapped her temple. ¡°The numbers dance, Mommy. They hold hands and get in line. I just write down who they¡¯re holding hands with.¡± A fierce, familiar pride swelled in Isolde¡¯s chest. It wasn¡¯t simply intelligence. She had seen the signs before ¡ª in the perfectly proportioned rocket drawings, in the intuitive grasp of physics. But this was something more. This was the raw, untamed power of a prodigious mind, awakened and ready for battle. Effie saw the world in raw data, organizing chaos into perfect order. Isolde went to the bookshelf and pulled out an old college textbook. Introductory Algebra. She opened it to a random page and showed Effie an equation. Effie frowned, tilted her head, and whispered, ¡°X is 4.¡± Isolde checked the answer key. X was 4. Tears pricked Isolde¡¯s eyes ¡ª tears of vindication. Grayson had called her ¡°slow¡± because she didn¡¯t talk much. He had called her ¡°weird¡± because she stared at walls. She wasn¡¯t slow. She was running at a speed he couldn¡¯t even begin toprehend. Isolde pulled Effie into herp and buried her face in her daughter¡¯s hair. ¡°Tomorrow,¡± Isolde whispered fiercely, ¡°you don¡¯t hold back. You let them dance. You let them dance all over them.¡± The auditorium smelled of floor wax and nervous parents. It was the ¡°Warm-Up Round,¡± a casual quiz bowl designed to limate the children to the stage before the formal written exam the following day. . . . Chapter 57 Chapter 57: Belle sat in the front row wearing a white pantsuit that cost more than Isolde¡¯s car. Her hair was blown out to perfection. She looked ready to ept an award. Isolde sat in the back, in the shadows. She wore jeans and a ck turtleneck. She wasn¡¯t there to be seen. On stage, ten children sat on stools. Kaiden was swinging his legs, looking bored. Effie sat perfectly still, her hands folded in herp. A teacher stood at the podium. ¡°This is a visual memory test. I will show a slide for ten seconds. Then I will ask a specific question.¡± ???????? ???? ?????? ???????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? The screen shed. A chaotic jumble of shapes filled it ¡ª red circles, blue squares, green triangles, and random numbers scattered between them. Ten seconds. The screen went ck. ¡°Question,¡± the teacher said. ¡°What was the shape in the third row, second column, and what is the sum of all the even numbers on the screen?¡± Silence. The children looked confused. One boy started to cry. Kaiden looked at the ceiling. He hadn¡¯t even nced at the screen. Effie raised her hand. Her voice was small but steady. ¡°Blue triangle. The sum is 48.¡± The teacher blinked. She looked at her answer key. Her eyes widened. ¡°That¡­ is correct.¡± A ripple of murmurs moved through the crowd. Belle leaned toward the tutor sitting beside her. ¡°She guessed,¡± she whispered harshly. ¡°It¡¯s a fluke.¡± ¡°Next slide,¡± the teacher said. ¡°Five seconds this time.¡± sh. ck. ¡°How many prime numbers were yellow?¡± Effie¡¯s hand shot up. ¡°Three. The number 7, the number 13, and the number 2.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± The murmurs grew louder. Parents turned in their seats, craning their necks to see the small girl in the navy dress. Kaiden was growing restless. He kicked the stool beside him. The teacher, sensing the tension ¡ª and perhaps remembering who had paid for the new gymnasium ¡ª turned to Kaiden. ¡°Kaiden, here is a question for you. From the first slide¡­ what color was the biggest circle?¡± It was a softball question. A gift. Kaiden froze. He looked at the audience. He looked at Belle. Belle¡¯s eyes went wide. She mouthed the word Red and pointed to her red lipstick. Kaiden squinted. ¡°Uh¡­ green?¡± The silence was excruciating. Someone in the back coughed. ¡°Incorrect,¡± the teacher said gently. ¡°It was red.¡± Belle¡¯s face flushed a deep, ugly crimson. She stood abruptly, grabbing her purse. ¡°I need to use the restroom,¡± she announced to no one in particr, pushing past the knees of the other parents. Isolde watched her go. She waited a beat, then followed. She found Belle in the hallway, pacing frantically with her phone pressed to her ear. ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± Belle was hissing. ¡°Get the questions for tomorrow! Buy them from the printer! Bribe the janitor! I am not letting my son be humiliated by that¡­ that mute!¡± Isolde leaned against the wall. ¡°Cheating is an expensive habit, Belle.¡± Belle jumped. She spun around, nearly dropping her phone. ¡°You! You were spying on me!¡± . . . Chapter 58 Chapter 58: ¡°I was walking to the water fountain,¡± Isolde said coolly. She took a step closer. ¡°But since we¡¯re chatting ¡ª be careful. Paper trails are hard to erase.¡± ¡°You think you¡¯re so smart,¡± Belle spat, herposure fracturing. ¡°You think because she memorized a few shapes she¡¯s special? Tomorrow is the real test. And the Lancasters always win.¡± ¡°Some things,¡± Isolde said, her voice dropping to a whisper, ¡°money can¡¯t buy. And talent can¡¯t be stolen.¡± She walked past Belle, her shoulder brushing against the silk suit. ???????? ???? ?????? ???????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? Back in the auditorium, the session ended. Effie hopped off the stage, and a cluster of students immediately surrounded her. ¡°How did you do that?¡± a boy asked. ¡°Are you a robot?¡± Effie giggled. ¡°No. I just like numbers.¡± It was the first time Isolde had seen Effie surrounded by peers who weren¡¯t mocking her. She was glowing. Kaiden pushed through the circle, shoving the boy aside. ¡°She¡¯s a freak!¡± he yelled. ¡°My grandma ising tomorrow! She¡¯s going to kick you all out! Especially you!¡± He jabbed a finger at Effie. Isolde stepped in, cing a hand on Effie¡¯s shoulder. Grandma. Victoria. The name carried weight. Victoria Lancaster didn¡¯t care about math. She cared about hierarchy. And in her world, Effie was a stain to be removed. Isolde knelt down. ¡°Effie, listen to me. Tomorrow, an olddy mighte. She might look scary. She might say mean things.¡± ¡°Is she a witch?¡± Effie asked,pletely serious. ¡°Kind of,¡± Isolde said. ¡°But remember the numbers? They protect you. As long as you focus on the numbers, she can¡¯t touch you.¡± Effie nodded slowly. ¡°I¡¯ll build a wall. Out of numbers.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Isolde said. The morning of the exam, the atmosphere at St. Jude¡¯s shifted from academic to imperial. A ck Rolls-Royce Phantom rolled up to the curb, disregarding the ¡°No Standing¡± zone entirely. The driver hopped out and opened the rear door. Victoria Lancaster emerged. She was seventy, but looked fifty. She wore a Chanel tweed suit in steel gray and oversized sunsses. Her presence seemed to drain the oxygen from the sidewalk itself. The Headmaster rushed down the steps, practically bowing. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster! What an honor!¡± Grayson and Belle followed her out of the car like obedient corgis. Grayson looked miserable. Belle looked smug. Isolde sat in the back row of the auditorium again. Effie was at desk number 14, pencil sharpened, legs swinging. Victoria swept into the VIP box ¡ª a ss-walled room overlooking the hall. She sat down, epted a tea, and gazed down at the room below with the detached air of a monarch surveying her subjects. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± Victoria said, her voice amplified slightly by the poor acoustics of the box. ¡°I have a lunch at the club.¡± The proctor announced the start. ¡°You have sixty minutes. Begin.¡± The sound of turning pages filled the room. Isolde watched Kaiden. He immediately tugged his left sleeve down, then kept ncing at his wrist before writing, then ncing again. It was clumsy. Obvious. . . . Chapter 59 Chapter 59: Effie didn¡¯t look up. Her hand moved across the paper in a blur. She didn¡¯t reach for scratch paper. She was calcting in real time. Eighteen minutes passed. Effie put her pencil down and raised her hand. The proctor walked over, whispering. ¡°Do you need the bathroom, dear?¡± Effie shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m done.¡± ¡°Done?¡± The proctor frowned. ¡°You should check your work. You have forty minutes left.¡± ¡°I checked it in my head,¡± Effie said, just loud enough for the room to hear. She handed in her paper and walked back to her seat. Up in the VIP box, Victoria scoffed. ¡°Ridiculous. She clearly gave up. Probably filled in ¡®C¡¯ for everything. A waste of a seat.¡± Belle nodded eagerly. ¡°She has attention issues, Victoria. Isolde refuses to medicate her.¡± Grayson watched the small girl sitting alone, staring at the ceiling. He felt a strange tightening in his chest. She looked so calm. §ã??????§Ö??e ??o??§Ö??s ?????????l???????? §àn ????????????§Öl??.§ã??m The exam ended. The papers were fed into the scantron machine on stage for immediate preliminary scoring. Results were projected onto the main screen. Names scrolled by. Kaiden Lancaster: 85% Belle exhaled the breath she¡¯d been holding. ¡°Eighty-five! That¡¯s passing! That¡¯s excellent!¡± Victoria nodded. ¡°eptable. The Lancaster genes.¡± Then the top of the list refreshed. A gold star animation burst across the screen. Effie Lancaster: 100% Time: 18 minutes. The auditorium went dead silent. Then came a gasp. Then apuse. It started with the students and spread to the parents, swelling into a roar. A perfect score. In record time. Victoria¡¯s teacup rattled against the saucer. She mmed it down hard enough to crack the china. She rose to her feet, her face twisting into a mask of fury. She marched to the ss railing. ¡°Stop this!¡± she shrieked. ¡°Stop this noise immediately!¡± The apuse faltered and died, confused. ¡°This is a fraud!¡± Victoria leveled a manicured finger at the screen. ¡°The machine is broken. Or the test waspromised.¡± The Headmaster went pale. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster, the system is encrypted¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me!¡± Victoria swung her finger toward the back of the room, finding Isolde in the shadows. ¡°It¡¯s her! That woman has no ce here! She taught her daughter to cheat ¡ª just as she cheated her way into my family!¡± Isolde stood. She walked slowly down the aisle toward the stage, not looking at Victoria. She looked only at Effie. ¡°Cancel the score!¡± Victoriamanded. ¡°Disqualify that child immediately!¡± Grayson rose and reached for his mother¡¯s arm. ¡°Mom, stop. Everyone is watching.¡± Victoria pped his hand away. ¡°Let them watch! Let them see us purge the rot! You are too weak to do it, Grayson. You let that woman walk all over you. You let her humiliate your son!¡± She leaned over the railing, her eyes venomous. ¡°Effie Lancaster¡¯s score is an anomaly. A statistical impossibility. She does not belong here. This school is for a certain caliber of student, from a certain caliber of family.¡± Effie shrank back in her chair, her lip trembling. Isolde stopped walking. She turned. She looked up at the VIP box. She didn¡¯t scream. She didn¡¯t cry. . . . Chapter 60 Chapter 60: She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Isolde tapped the Instagram icon on a secondary, untraceable phone. She swiped right. Live. She typed a title: The Matriarch of Manhattan vs. A 5-Year-Old. She hit Go Live. She kept the phone low, angled upward, ensuring her own face never entered the frame ¡ª a disembodied narrator to the Lancaster family¡¯s self-immtion. Victoria was still leaning over the railing, face red, mouth open in a snarl. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster,¡± Isolde said, her voice projecting clearly from off-camera. ¡°Could you repeat that? For the audience?¡± §å§à???? ??a?????? ???????? ???? ??????e??s ???? ??a??n????e??s.??§à?? Victoria blinked. She saw the phone. But she was from a generation that believed itself untouchable, that consequences were reserved for poor people. ¡°I said,¡± Victoria spat, ¡°that this result is fraudulent! You are a grifter who has polluted my family¡¯s legacy!¡± The viewer count climbed across the screen. 50¡­ 200¡­ 1,000. The algorithm loved drama. Belle saw the screen. She saw the small ¡°LIVE¡± badge. ¡°Mom!¡± Belle grabbed Victoria¡¯s arm, digging her nails in. ¡°Stop! She¡¯s streaming! It¡¯s live!¡± Victoria froze. She looked at the phone. She looked at the parents in the auditorium, who were now holding up their own devices ¡ª a sea of ck rectangles recording her meltdown. ¡°You¡­¡± Victoria pointed a trembling finger. ¡°Turn that off! Seize her phone!¡± She gestured to the two bodyguards standing by the door. The guards took a step forward. Isolde didn¡¯t flinch. She panned the camera toward them, her voice calm and detached. ¡°Are the Lancaster bodyguards going to assault a mother in a school auditorium? Is that the official policy?¡± The guards stopped. They weren¡¯t stupid. Assault on camera was a felony. Grayson descended the private staircase from the VIP box, his face a mask of thunder. He pushed past stunned parents as he hurried down the long center aisle. ¡°Isolde, put it down!¡± he hissed, panic flooding his eyes as he finally reached her. ¡°You¡¯re destroying the family name!¡± Isolde turned the camera on him. His panicked face filled the frame for thousands of viewers. ¡°The family name is destroying itself, Grayson. I¡¯m just holding the mirror.¡± She turned back to the screen behind her. ¡°One hundred percent versus eighty-five percent. Data doesn¡¯t lie. Math doesn¡¯t care about your trust fund.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a mistake!¡± Victoria screamed from the box. ¡°Cut the power! Headmaster, cut the power!¡± The Headmaster stared at the floor, wishing he could dissolve into the carpet. He didn¡¯t move. Grayson¡¯s phone began to buzz in his pocket. Then Belle¡¯s. Then the PR manager¡¯s. ¡°Sir,¡± the PR manager whispered, ncing at his tablet. ¡°SkyLine stock just dipped two percent. The hashtag LancasterMeltdown is trending in New York.¡± Grayson looked at his mother. He looked at the live feed on Isolde¡¯s phone. He looked at the ruin unfolding in front of him. He turned toward the VIP box. ¡°Mom!¡± Grayson roared. His voice cracked with a desperation he had never shown before. ¡°Shut up! Get in the car!¡± Victoria recoiled as if he had struck her. ¡°How dare you¡­¡± . . . Chapter 61 Chapter 61: ¡°Now!¡± Grayson screamed. ¡°Leave! You are killing the stock!¡± Victoria stared at her son. For the first time in her life, she saw that he was no longer her puppet. He was a man trying to save his wallet. She straightened her jacket and lifted her chin. ¡°I see where your loyalties lie.¡± She turned and marched out of the box, the bodyguards trailing behind her like funeral mourners. Belle stood alone in the ss-walled room, exposed, trying to make herself small. ??e???? ????o?? §å?????? ????????e ??? g??ln??????????.§ã???? Isolde ended the stream. She saved the video. She looked at Grayson. He was breathing hard, sweat beading on his forehead. ¡°Apologize,¡± Isolde said. Grayson gritted his teeth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry she said that.¡± ¡°Not good enough,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Apologize to Effie. For letting it happen.¡± Grayson looked at Effie. She was watching him with wide, fearful eyes. The drawing of the ck scribble monster shed through his mind. ¡°Effie,¡± he began. ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± Isolde cut him off. She realized he wasn¡¯t capable of it. Not really. She walked to the stage, lifted Effie into her arms, and took the certificate the stunned proctor was holding out. ¡°Come on, baby. Let¡¯s go get ice cream.¡± She walked out, her heels clicking a steady rhythm of victory on the hardwood floor. The auditorium buzzed with the aftermath of the hurricane. But Belle wasn¡¯t done. Desperation made people do stupid things. She marched down from the box to the judges¡¯ table, pulling a small piece of paper from her pocket. ¡°Wait!¡± Belle shouted. ¡°I found this! Under Effie¡¯s chair!¡± She mmed the paper onto the table. ¡°It¡¯s a cheat sheet! I told you she cheated!¡± The Headmaster picked it up and squinted. Isolde stopped at the door. She sighed, turned around, and walked back. ¡°Let me see that,¡± Isolde said. She plucked the paper from the Headmaster¡¯s hand and held it up. It was a scrap covered in scribbled forms. ¡°This,¡± Isolde announced, her voice dry, ¡°is a mnemonic device for memorizing sequences of prime numbers, and a logic matrix for pattern recognition. Advanced material, certainly.¡± She looked at Belle. ¡°You think my five-year-old cheated on a basic arithmetic and visual memory test using a cheat sheet designed for a graduate-level logic exam? The test didn¡¯t even contain questions thisplex.¡± A ripple ofughter moved through the room. It was absurd. ¡°And,¡± Isolde continued, her eyes scanning the paper, ¡°this appears to have been printed on a SkyLine Engineering departmental printer. The footer code is specific to the R&D floor. Your floor, Belle. Should we have the IT department pull the print logs? I¡¯m certain the board would be very interested in corporate resources being used to fabricate evidence against a child.¡± Belle¡¯s mouth opened and closed like a fish. ¡°She¡­ she must have stolen it!¡± ¡°Enough,¡± Isolde said. ¡°If you¡¯re so convinced, let¡¯s settle this. Re-test. Right now.¡± ¡°What?¡± Belle blinked. ¡°Re-test. Effie and Kaiden. Here, on stage. No paper. No pencils. The math professor asks the questions verbally.¡± . . . Chapter 62 Chapter 62: Belle panicked. She looked at Kaiden. He was sitting on the floor, ying with a toy car,pletely oblivious. ¡°No,¡± Belle said quickly. ¡°Kaiden is traumatized. He can¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°I agree,¡± Grayson said, stepping forward. He knew Kaiden couldn¡¯t do it. He knew Kaiden had cheated. ¡°This has gone far enough.¡± ¡°Why, Grayson?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°Afraid the 85 was a lie too?¡± ¡°He got an 85!¡± Belle shrieked. ¡°He is a genius!¡± Kaiden looked up. He saw everyone staring at him. He felt the pressure bearing down, and the anger radiating from Belle. He stood and hurled the toy car. It struck the microphone stand with a deafening ng, and the feedback squeal pierced every ear in the room. M????t ???????? t????? ??e???? ???? ????l??????e????.c???? ¡°I hate it!¡± Kaiden screamed, stomping his feet. ¡°I hate math! I hate the numbers!¡± He pointed a finger directly at Belle. ¡°I hate you! You made me memorize the paper! The numbers were wrong! I didn¡¯t remember them right!¡± The silence that followed was heavier than lead. You made me memorize the paper. The boy had confessed. Belle closed her eyes. She swayed slightly. It was over. The Headmaster cleared his throat. ¡°In light of this¡­ admission¡­ Kaiden Lancaster¡¯s score is disqualified. Effie Lancaster is the winner.¡± Grayson looked at his son. He looked at the cheat sheet on the table. A wave of nausea moved through him. Isolde didn¡¯t gloat. She looked at Kaiden with something closer to pity. He was a monster in the making, but he was being shaped by a terrible architect. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Effie,¡± Isolde said softly. As they walked past Grayson, Isolde paused. ¡°You see?¡± she whispered. ¡°That is what you bought with your money. A lie.¡± Grayson didn¡¯t answer. He couldn¡¯t. Effie tugged on Isolde¡¯s hand. She was clutching the small stic trophy, turning it over in her fingers. ¡°Mommy,¡± she asked, her voice cutting cleanly through the tension, ¡°can I show this to Great-Grandma? The one in the picture?¡± Isolde froze. Beatrice. Grayson looked up. His eyes narrowed. The Headmaster¡¯s office was lined with mahogany and smelled of old books and fear. The Board of Directors sat around the long table. Grayson sat at the head, rubbing his temples. Belle sat in the corner, staring at the floor. ¡°Mr. Lancaster,¡± the Headmaster said, wiping sweat from his bald head. ¡°The livestream, the confession ¡ª it¡¯s a PR nightmare. Parents are threatening to pull their donations.¡± ¡°I will build you a new library,¡± Grayson said, his voice t. ¡°A science wing. Whatever you want. Just bury it.¡± The door flew open. Isolde walked in. She wasn¡¯t invited. She didn¡¯t care. ¡°You can¡¯t buy your way out of this one, Grayson,¡± she said, tossing a folder onto the table. ¡°The hashtag JusticeForEffie is number one trending in New York.¡± The board members studied the analytics. Their faces fell. ¡°We have to act,¡± one board member said. ¡°We need to demonstrate zero tolerance for academic dishonesty.¡± The Headmaster nodded. He looked at Grayson, then at Belle. ¡°Kaiden will be suspended for two weeks. His record will reflect the incident.¡± . . . Chapter 63 Chapter 63: ¡°Suspended?¡± Belle shrieked, jumping to her feet. ¡°He¡¯s five! This will ruin his transcript for prep schools!¡± ¡°It¡¯s better than expulsion,¡± the Headmaster said firmly. ¡°Which is what the bws demand.¡± Grayson raised a hand to silence Belle. ¡°Fine. Two weeks.¡± Belle red at Isolde. If looks could kill, Isolde would have been ash. ¡°You did this,¡± Belle hissed. ¡°You ruined him.¡± ¡°You ruined him,¡± Isolde corrected. ¡°I just turned on the lights.¡± The meeting adjourned. The board members filed out, carefully avoiding eye contact with Belle. ????a?? on ????y ???????????? on ????????§à????????.?????? As Belle passed Isolde, she leaned in close. ¡°You think you won? Wait until the world knows the truth. Wait until they know whose blood really runs in that boy¡¯s veins. If that secretes out, Effie loses everything.¡± Isolde stopped. She turned her head slowly. ¡°Are you threatening to reveal your own affair? To reveal that Kaiden is a child born while Grayson was still married to me?¡± Belle flinched. She saw the trap closing around her. Revealing the truth would hurt her far more than anyone else in the room. ¡°Watch your back,¡± Belle whispered weakly, then stormed out. Grayson remained. ¡°Isolde. Wait.¡± ¡°Talk to mywyer,¡± Isolde said, reaching for the door handle. ¡°It¡¯s about Beatrice,¡± Grayson said. Isolde¡¯s hand paused. ¡°She saw the livestream,¡± Grayson said. ¡°She wants to see Effie. Tomorrow. At the Estate.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said immediately. ¡°I¡¯m not taking her into that snake pit.¡± ¡°Grandma is dying, Isolde,¡± Grayson said quietly. ¡°You know that. And she respected you. She respected the role you yed as a Lancaster.¡± It was true. Beatrice Lancaster was a hard woman, but she had always respected Isolde¡¯sposure and dignity ¡ª even if she had never fully approved of her background. And she was the only one who had ever sent Effie a birthday card. ¡°She holds the keys to the Education Trust,¡± Grayson added. ¡°If Effie is the winner, that money belongs to her. It¡¯s millions, Isolde. For her future.¡± Isolde narrowed her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re bribing me?¡± ¡°No,¡± Grayson said. ¡°I¡¯m trying to do one right thing today. Bring her. Tomorrow.¡± Isolde thought of the trophy in Effie¡¯s hand. Can I show this to Great-Grandma? ¡°Fine,¡± Isolde said. ¡°But on my terms.¡± The parking lot was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. Isolde walked Effie to her car ¡ª a sensible, safe Volvo she had bought with her consulting money. Grayson was leaning against his Maybach. Belle sat in the passenger seat, wearing sunsses, deliberately looking away. ¡°Tomorrow. Ten AM. I¡¯ll send a driver,¡± Grayson said. ¡°No driver,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I drive myself. And I have conditions.¡± ¡°Name them.¡± ¡°First,¡± Isolde said, pointing at the Maybach, ¡°she doesn¡¯te.¡± Belle whipped her head around. She lowered her sunsses. ¡°Excuse me?¡± she snapped. ¡°I won¡¯t have Effie breathing the same air as the woman who tried to frame her for cheating,¡± Isolde said calmly. ¡°If Belle is there, we turn around at the gate.¡± Grayson looked at Belle, then at Isolde. He knew Beatrice couldn¡¯t stand Belle anyway. . . . Chapter 64 Chapter 64: ¡°Done,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Belle stays in the city.¡± ¡°Gray!¡± Belle gasped. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡± ¡°Stay home, Belle,¡± Grayson said, his voice leaving no room for argument. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough damage for one week.¡± Belle slumped back in her seat, furious. ¡°Second,¡± Isolde continued. ¡°If your mother says one word ¡ª one single word ¡ª that insults my daughter, I leave. And I release the rest of the footage from today. The parts where she calls a child¡¯s heritage into question.¡± Grayson winced. ¡°I will handle Mother.¡± B?? ??a???? ???? §àu?? §ã????????n????? o?? ?????????????????.?????? ¡°You better,¡± Isolde said. ¡°The way you handle your stock price.¡± She opened the car door for Effie. ¡°Isolde,¡± Grayson said. She looked at him over the roof of the car. ¡°Did she really ¡ª did she really do it on her own? The test?¡± Isolde looked at him with a mixture of pity and exhaustion. ¡°That is your tragedy, Grayson,¡± she said softly. ¡°You would rather believe a lie than ept that your daughter is extraordinary. You threw away a diamond because you were too busy polishing a piece of coal.¡± She got in the car and closed the door. Grayson stood there as she drove away, the words echoing in his head. Diamond. Coal. He climbed back into the Maybach. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re letting her dictate terms,¡± Belle muttered. ¡°Shut up,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Just¡­ shut up.¡± On the drive home, Effie held her trophy in herp, turning it slowly in both hands. ¡°Mommy, is Great-Grandma nice?¡± ¡°She¡¯splicated,¡± Isolde said. ¡°But she respects strength. And you, my love, are the strongest person I know.¡± Isolde¡¯s mind drifted to the other reason she had agreed to go. The Estate attic. Her grandmother had worked there as a maid, decades ago. Before she died, she had whispered about a box ¡ª a box she had left behind. Isolde needed to find it. The drive to the Hudson Valley was scenic, the leaves burning in shades of fire and gold. Isolde drove her Volvo. Grayson¡¯s convoy followed a mile behind. She pressed the gas. The modified engine ¡ª something she had tinkered with in the garage ¡ª purred beneath her. She took the curves of the winding river road with the precision of a race car driver. ¡°Whee!¡± Effie cheered from the back seat. ¡°Go fast, Mommy!¡± Isolde smiled. ¡°Tactical evasion, baby.¡± In the rearview mirror, the ck SUVs shrank to dots. They arrived at the Lancaster Estate gates ten minutes ahead of Grayson. The iron gates groaned open. The house was a monstrosity of Victorian Gothic architecture ¡ª turrets, gargoyles, dark stone. It looked like a vampire¡¯s summer home. Isolde parked and took a deep breath. She hated this ce. It smelled of old money and mildew. Grayson¡¯s car pulled up as they were climbing out. He looked flustered. ¡°You drive¡­ aggressively,¡± he noted. ¡°I drive efficiently,¡± Isolde corrected. Mrs. Higgins, the housekeeper, opened the massive oak doors and looked down her nose at Isolde. ¡°Ms. Carson. The guest quarters in the servants¡¯ wing have been prepared.¡± . . . Chapter 65 Chapter 65: ¡°We aren¡¯t staying,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Where is Beatrice?¡± ¡°The srium,¡± Mrs. Higgins sniffed. Isolde took Effie¡¯s hand and walked past the housekeeper without another word. The srium was a ss jungle of orchids and ferns, the air thick, warm, and humid. Beatrice Lancaster sat in a wheelchair, wrapped in a nket despite the heat. Her hands were gnarled, but her eyes were sharp as blue flint. ¡°Well,¡± Beatrice rasped. ¡°Bring her here.¡± Effie walked forward slowly. She held out the trophy with both hands. ¡°I won this,¡± Effie said. ¡°For numbers.¡± Beatrice took the small stic trophy with a trembling hand. She looked at it as though it were a Faberg¨¦ egg. ¡°Better than your useless father,¡± she cackled. ¡°He never won anything that wasn¡¯t bought for him.¡± ????§Ñ?? ??v§Ör§å????? ???? ??§Ö????????? ??? ????l????????l??.c???? Grayson stood in the doorway, looking ufortable. ¡°Hello, Grandmother.¡± Beatrice ignored him. She looked at Isolde. ¡°You raised a fighter. I didn¡¯t think you had it in you.¡± ¡°I have a lot of things you didn¡¯t think I had,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Good,¡± Beatrice nodded. ¡°We need new blood. The old blood is getting thin.¡± Suddenly, the ss door at the far end of the srium banged open. ¡°Well, well,¡± a voice sneered. ¡°If it isn¡¯t the charity case.¡± Seraphina Lancaster, Grayson¡¯s younger sister, strode in wearing riding breeches and tall boots, a riding crop in her hand. She looked like a younger, meaner version of Victoria. ¡°What are you doing here, Isolde?¡± Seraphina asked, pping the crop against her thigh. ¡°Come back to beg for a spot in the will? I hear your Brooklyn apartment is charmingly¡­ small.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t blink. ¡°Hello, Seraphina. Still ying dress-up with the ponies?¡± Seraphina¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Watch your mouth. You¡¯re on my property now.¡± ¡°Actually,¡± Beatrice interrupted, ¡°it¡¯s my property. And she is my guest.¡± Seraphina huffed. She shifted her re to Effie. ¡°And who is this? The little cheater?¡± Isolde took a step forward. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. ¡°Careful,¡± Isolde said quietly. ¡°I made your mother run away yesterday. Do you want to be next?¡± Seraphinaughed ¡ª a harsh, barking sound. She stepped into Isolde¡¯s personal space, the riding crop tapping rhythmically against her palm. ¡°You think you¡¯re tough because you know how to use an iPhone?¡± Seraphina sneered. ¡°After the stunt you pulled, you¡¯re lucky you weren¡¯t arrested for trespassing.¡± She pointed the crop toward the kitchen door. ¡°Frankly, I¡¯m surprised you remember the way to the front door. Last I recall, your family used the service entrance.¡± Grayson stepped forward. ¡°Seraphina, stop. She is a guest.¡± ¡°A guest who used to arrange the flowers,¡± Seraphina shot back. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you¡¯ve forgotten your ce.¡± Isolde looked at the riding crop. She looked at Seraphina¡¯s smug face. ¡°My ce,¡± Isolde said calmly, ¡°is wherever my daughter is. And since she just proved she¡¯s the smartest person in this family, I¡¯d say my ce is at the head of the table.¡± Seraphina¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°You arrogant¡ª¡± . . . Chapter 66 Chapter 66: ¡°I know my worth,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Unlike you, who has never earned a dor in her life.¡± Seraphina raised the crop, leveling it at Isolde¡¯s face. Isolde didn¡¯t move a muscle. She didn¡¯t flinch. She simply held Seraphina¡¯s gaze with an unnerving stillness, her voice dropping to barely a whisper ¡ª quiet enough that it cut through the humid air like a shard of ice. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Isolde said. ¡°That¡¯s a very expensive toy. It would be a shame to have to take it from you.¡± The threat wasn¡¯t physical, but the implication of absolute capability hung in the air like smoke. Seraphina saw something in Isolde¡¯s eyes ¡ª not fear, not anger, but a cold, calcting certainty that unnerved her far more than any raised voice would have. Her bravado faltered. Seraphina stumbled back. ¡°Get out!¡± Beatrice barked from her wheelchair. ¡°Seraphina, go check the horses. You smell like manure.¡± ????w????o???? ??????? ????§Ö?? o?? ??§Ñl??????el?.??o?? Seraphina¡¯s face went red. She shot a hateful look at Isolde and stomped out of the srium. Beatrice sighed. ¡°Useless. All of them.¡± She motioned to Isolde. ¡°Come here. Closer.¡± Beatrice reached into the side pocket of her wheelchair and withdrew a small wooden box, old and worn, its varnish long since peeling away. ¡°Your grandmother,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°She left this. It was in the attic for forty years. I never knew what to do with it. But after watching you yesterday, I see her spirit in you ¡ª the same fire. I kept it until I found someone worthy of it.¡± Isolde took the box. Her grandmother had been a maid here. A quiet woman who had died when Isolde was very young. She opened the lid. Insidey a leather-bound diary and a heavy metal badge. Isolde lifted the badge. It was silver, tarnished with age, depicting an eagle clutching a lightning bolt. It was not a servant¡¯s pin. It was a military insignia. Early Air Force. Special Operations. Isolde¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Why would her grandmother ¡ª a maid ¡ª have carried a special ops badge? ¡°She wasn¡¯t just a maid, was she?¡± Isolde asked, looking up at Beatrice. Beatrice smiled ¡ª a cryptic, knowing grin. ¡°Read the diary. But not here.¡± ¡°Dinner is served,¡± Mrs. Higgins announced from the doorway, her voice clipped and cold. They moved to the dining room. The long mahogany table was set with silver and crystal. Seraphina was already seated near the head, a smirk already forming on her lips. Beside her, there was a conspicuous gap. No chair for Isolde. ¡°Oops,¡± Seraphina said pleasantly. ¡°We seem to be short a chair. I suppose you¡¯ll have to eat in the kitchen with the staff. For old times¡¯ sake.¡± Grayson frowned. ¡°Mrs. Higgins, get another chair.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have any matching ones, sir,¡± Mrs. Higgins replied smoothly. Isolde handed the wooden box to Effie. ¡°Hold this, baby.¡± She walked over to Seraphina. ¡°Get up,¡± Isolde said. Seraphinaughed. ¡°Make me.¡± . . . Chapter 67 Chapter 67: Isolde reached over and lifted the heavy ornate water goblet from the ce setting. She didn¡¯t threaten Seraphina with it. Instead, she held the crystal up to the light, turning it slowly, her voice perfectly conversational. ¡°This table is magnificent. A single, solid piece of mahogany. It would be a shame if something unfortunate were to happen to it.¡± She set the goblet back down with a precise, resonant click that echoed through the silent room. Her gaze remained locked on Seraphina ¡ª cold, unblinking, and utterly without hesitation. ¡°I am Effie¡¯s guardian,¡± Isolde continued, her voice dropping lower. ¡°Effie is the future of the Lancaster Education Trust. That makes me the most important person at this table. Now I will have your seat.¡± Seraphina looked at the goblet. She looked at Isolde¡¯s eyes. There was no hesitation there. Only cold, hard resolve. Seraphina scrambled out of the chair, knocking her wine ss over in the process. Isolde pulled the chair out. She sat down and spread the napkin across herp with unhurried precision. ¡°Thank you,¡± Isolde said to the stunned room. ¡°Pass the bread, please.¡± The dining room at the Lancaster Estate was silent, save for the rhythmic scrape of silver against fine china. Isolde sliced her steak with surgical precision, ignoring the heat of Seraphina¡¯s re burning into the side of her face. The air smelled of roasted garlic and old, dusty velvet. ???????????????????????? ??D???? §à?? ????????§à????????.??o?? Beatrice Lancaster wiped her mouth with a linen napkin, the motion slow and deliberate. She ced it on the table, signaling the end of the meal. ¡°Isolde,¡± Beatrice said, her voice rasping like dry leaves over stone. ¡°Come to the study. I have some old things for you.¡± Grayson pushed his chair back immediately, the legs screeching against the hardwood. ¡°Grandmother, Isolde is tired. Her mental state has been¡­ fragiletely. She needs rest.¡± Beatrice didn¡¯t look at him. She grabbed her cane, lifted it an inch, and brought it down onto the Persian rug. The thud vibrated through the floorboards. ¡°She is in my house, Grayson,¡± Beatrice snapped. ¡°It is not your ce to arrange her schedule. Sit down.¡± Grayson¡¯s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering near his ear. He sat back down, defeated by the matriarch he was too afraid to cross. Isolde followed as Mrs. Higgins pushed Beatrice¡¯s wheelchair down the dim hallway. The study was a cavern of dark oak and leather, smelling of pipe tobo that hadn¡¯t been smoked in twenty years. The heavy door clicked shut behind them, sealing them inside. The silence here was different ¡ª heavier, filled with history. Beatrice wheeled herself to a deskrge enough tond a ne on. She unlocked a drawer with a small brass key drawn from her cardigan pocket. Her hands, usually trembling with age, were steady as she lifted out a worn wooden box. The varnish was peeling, revealing the gray grain of the wood beneath. ¡°Your grandmother,¡± Beatrice said, her eyes unfocused, gazing at some point in the past. ¡°She was the best housekeeper this estate ever saw. Or so everyone thought.¡± She slid the box across the leather blotter. . . . Chapter 68 Chapter 68: Isolde reached out. The wood was cool beneath her fingertips. She lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on faded blue velvet,y a metal badge. Isolde picked it up. It was heavy ¡ª silver, tarnished by time, but the relief was unmistakable. A silver lozenge nked by wings. The insignia of the Women Airforce Service Pilots. The WASP. Isolde¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Grandma was a maid. That¡¯s what everyone said.¡± ¡°That was her survival,¡± Beatrice said softly. ¡°Before she scrubbed floors, she ferried B-17 bombers from factories to airbases across the country. She was a navigator. And an engineer without a degree. The best I ever met.¡± Beatrice looked up, her blue eyes sharp and lucid. ¡°Your talent, child ¡ª it didn¡¯te from nowhere. It isn¡¯t a glitch. It¡¯s an inheritance.¡± Isolde ran her thumb over the wings. A strange, grounding sensation washed over her. For so long, Grayson had made her feel like an anomaly, a freak of nature whose intelligence was a defect to be managed. But she wasn¡¯t a freak. She was a legacy. ¡°Open the book,¡± Beatricemanded. ???????????????? ?????? ?????????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? Isolde lifted the leather-bound diary from the box. The pages were brittle, yellowed like old teeth. She opened it at random. It wasn¡¯t a diary of feelings ¡ª it was data. Columns of barometric pressures, wind vectors, fuel consumption rates calcted to the decimal. It was a flight log, but it was also aboratory. ¡°The Lancaster family owes your grandmother a debt,¡± Beatrice said, her voice dropping lower. ¡°One that was never paid. That is why I have tolerated Grayson¡¯s foolishness for so long. But my patience has limits.¡± Isolde looked up. For the first time, the hardness in the old woman¡¯s face softened into something resembling an apology. ¡°Thank you,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me,¡± Beatrice grunted. ¡°Just don¡¯t waste it.¡± Isolde closed the box and tucked it under her arm like a shield. She walked to the door. She could hear breathing on the other side. She yanked it open. Grayson stumbled forward slightly, catching himself on the doorframe. He was flushed, his tie loosened. ¡°What did she say?¡± Grayson demanded, his eyes darting to the box. ¡°Is it about the will? Did she give you money?¡± Isolde stepped out, forcing him to back up. ¡°Is that all you are, Grayson? A calctor in a suit?¡± He grabbed her wrist. His grip was hot and desperate. ¡°I am your husband. I have a right to know what happens in this family.¡± Isolde looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his eyes. A cold, clean wave of rity moved through her. This man saw a box and thought of money. She held the same box and felt the weight of history ¡ª of a forgotten genius. They were not merely divorced; they were different species. ¡°If you were really my husband, you wouldn¡¯t have let your sister treat me like a dog at the dinner table.¡± She pulled her arm away. The friction burned her skin. ¡°Goodnight, Grayson.¡± . . . Chapter 69 Chapter 69: She walked away without looking back, her footsteps echoing on the parquet floor. Inside the guest room, the air was cool and still. Effie was curled up in the center of the massive four-poster bed, clutching her teddy bear, her breathing a soft, rhythmic whistle. Isolde sat on the edge of the bed. She opened the diary again, tilting it toward the moonlight pouring through the window. She turned to the veryst page. Tucked into the binding was a folded piece of onionskin paper. Isolde unfolded it carefully. It was a hand-drawn sketch. A mechanical tail assembly. The geometry wasplex, aggressive. Isolde¡¯s heart hammered against her ribs. The angle of the stabilizers. The intake curve. It wasn¡¯t identical to the Phoenix-X7, but the underlying aerodynamic principles ¡ª the mathematical soul of the design ¡ª were the same. It was like finding a foundational theorem that she had, decadester, unknowingly proven. Her grandmother hadn¡¯t just flown nes. She had been dreaming of breaking the sky. ????§Ñd ????e ????????s?? ????en???? ???? ????????????????.??o?? The doorknob rattled. Isolde shoved the diary under her pillow in one fluid motion. The rattle became a jiggle, then a pound. The door didn¡¯t budge. She had engaged the deadbolt the moment she entered. ¡°Isolde.¡± Grayson¡¯s voice came through muffled but sharp. ¡°Open the door. We need to talk about Belle. She¡¯s upset that you¡¯re here.¡± Isolde stared at the wood, her face devoid of expression. ¡°Go away, Grayson. Or I call security.¡± ¡°This is my house!¡± ¡°And I am the guest,¡± she replied. ¡°Beatrice¡¯s guest.¡± A heavy silence followed. Then the dull thud of a fist against the door, once, and the sound of retreating footsteps. Isoldey down beside Effie and pulled the duvet up to her chin. She stared at the dark ceiling, one hand resting on the pillow concealing the diary. She wasn¡¯t alone anymore. She had the ghosts of the past on her side. Morning light filtered through the heavy velvet drapes, casting long, dusty beams across the room. Isolde woke to a sharp rap on the door. ¡°Breakfast, ma¡¯am,¡± Mrs. Higgins called out. ¡°Madam Beatrice is waiting.¡± Isolde sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Effie was already awake, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, counting the patterns in the rug. ¡°Twenty-four diamonds,¡± Effie whispered. ¡°Twelve red, twelve gold.¡± Isolde smiled, though it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. She dressed Effie in a soft navy dress and smoothed the cor. ¡°Listen to me,¡± Isolde said, kneeling to meet Effie¡¯s gaze. ¡°Downstairs, Daddy might try to talk to you. If you don¡¯t want to talk, you don¡¯t have to. You are the boss of your voice. Okay?¡± Effie nodded solemnly. ¡°Okay.¡± They descended the grand staircase. The dining room was bright, the morning sun ncing off the silver service. Grayson was already seated, wearing a casual polo shirt that looked brand new, his hair perfectly arranged. He held a newspaper, but he wasn¡¯t reading it. The moment they entered, he lowered the paper and shed a smile so bright it looked painful. . . . Chapter 70 Chapter 70: ¡°Good morning, my loves,¡± he said, his voice rich and theatrical. ¡°Did you sleep well?¡± He stood and walked toward Isolde, leaning in for a kiss. Beatrice watched from the head of the table like a hawk. Isolde turned her head at thest second. Grayson¡¯s lips grazed her ear. ¡°y along,¡± he hissed, his breath warm. ¡°Don¡¯t upset her.¡± Isolde pulled back and offered him a smile that was all teeth. ¡°You really missed your calling, Grayson. Hollywood lost a star.¡± ??o????????e ????????l?? ???? ??§Ñln§à??§Ö???.?????? Grayson ignored the jab and turned to Effie. He crouched down and spread his arms wide. ¡°Come here, princess. Give Daddy a big hug.¡± Effie froze. She looked at his hands ¡ªrge, manicured hands. The same hands that had pushed Kaiden behind him the day before. The same hands that had never held her when she cried. The cheerful clink of silverware faded to a dull hum in her ears, and her breath caught in her throat. A small, high-pitched sound escaped her. She scrambled backward, putting Isolde between herself and her father. She grabbed fistfuls of Isolde¡¯s skirt and buried her face in the fabric, her small body trembling. Grayson remained crouched, his arms embracing empty air. His smile faltered, twitching at the corners. Beatrice set her teacup down. The clink was deafening in the silence. ¡°It seems,¡± Beatrice said dryly, ¡°that your approval rating is rather low, Grayson.¡± Grayson stood and brushed nonexistent lint from his knees, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed red. ¡°She¡¯s just¡­ she has morning moods. Like her mother.¡± Isolde ced a steady hand on Effie¡¯s head. ¡°She doesn¡¯t have moods. She has a memory.¡± Seraphina drifted into the room wearing a silk dressing gown and holding a mimosa. She leaned against the doorframe, smirking. ¡°God, the drama. Is she afraid of her own father? Or did you coach her to do that, Isolde?¡± Isolde didn¡¯t dignify that with a response. She lifted Effie into her chair and began buttering a piece of toast. Grayson, desperate to regain control of the room, grabbed a serving fork. He speared two pieces of crispy bacon and dropped them onto Effie¡¯s te. ¡°Here,¡± he said, his voice pitched too high. ¡°Your favorite. Crispy bacon.¡± Effie looked at the te as though the food were poison. She shrank back in her chair. ¡°I can¡¯t eat that,¡± she whispered. ¡°My skin gets itchy.¡± Grayson¡¯s smile tightened. He didn¡¯t look at Effie but at Beatrice, performing the role of a concerned, modern father. ¡°Nonsense, sweetheart. That was when you were a baby. A little bit won¡¯t hurt you. You need to build a tolerance.¡± The silence that followed was absolute. It wasn¡¯t a mistake; it was an indictment. He was dismissing her known allergy as a childish whim ¡ª a direct challenge to everything Isolde had built to keep her safe. Beatrice let out a sigh that sounded like a tire deting. ¡°Grayson. Are you a doctor now? Leave the child¡¯s diet to her mother.¡± . . . Chapter 71 Chapter 71: Grayson mmed the fork down. Grease sttered across the white tablecloth. He red at Isolde, his eyes full of usation, as though she had engineered every moment of his humiliation. ¡°I have work to do,¡± he muttered. ¡°Sit down,¡± Beatricemanded. ¡°No,¡± Grayson snapped. He turned on his heel. ¡°I¡¯ve lost my appetite.¡± He stormed out. The heavy door swung shut behind him. Seraphina rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her drink. ¡°Well. That was festive.¡± Isolde calmly used her fork to move the bacon from Effie¡¯s te onto a napkin. ???????? ???????? ???????????????? ???????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? ¡°It¡¯s okay, baby,¡± she said softly. ¡°He¡¯s gone.¡± Effie looked up at her, eyes wide and wet. ¡°He didn¡¯t listen.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde agreed. ¡°He never does.¡± Saturday dinner was a formal affair. The long mahogany table was set for twelve, as several cousins from the Greenwich branch of the family had arrived to pay their respects to Beatrice. Candlelight flickered across the crystal sses. Isolde wore a simple ck dress ¡ª unadorned, but perfectly fitted. She sat straight, her presencemanding in a way that seemed to irritate everyone around her. Seraphina, emboldened by the audience, leaned toward her cousin across the table. ¡°It¡¯s just so sad,¡± Seraphina said, her voice pitched to carry. ¡°Divorce is hard enough, but to be unemployed on top of it? I heard some women simply linger around their ex-husbands because they can¡¯t afford rent.¡± A few cousins tittered, covering their mouths with napkins. Their eyes darted toward Isolde, hungry for blood. Grayson sat at the head of the table, cutting his duck. He didn¡¯t look up. He didn¡¯t stop her. He let the humiliation unfold ¡ª a silent punishment for the breakfast debacle that morning. Isolde set her wine ss down. The stem clicked sharply against the coaster. Seraphina wasn¡¯t done. ¡°Isolde, dear, what are your ns? Who hires a housewife with a five-year gap? I hear McDonald¡¯s is offeringpetitive wages.¡± Laughter rippled through the room. Isolde looked at Grayson. ¡°Do you find this amusing?¡± Grayson shrugged and took a sip of red wine. ¡°Seraphina is just joking. You need to develop a sense of humor, Isolde. You¡¯re too uptight.¡± Isolde pushed her chair back. The legs scraped loudly against the floor, silencing the room. ¡°Humor?¡± Isolde said, her voice perfectly steady. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I seem to be allergic to bad breeding.¡± She turned to Beatrice. ¡°Grandmother, I wish you good health. But I cannot digest this food in thispany.¡± Seraphina mmed her hand on the table. ¡°You dare walk away? This is a family dinner!¡± Isolde looked down at her sister-inw. ¡°Respect is earned, Seraphina. You haven¡¯t earned mine. You aren¡¯t even on the payroll.¡± Isolde reached down and took Effie¡¯s hand. Effie had a ring of chocte pudding around her mouth. ¡°Come on, baby. Room service.¡± ¡°Isolde!¡± Grayson barked, his face darkening. ¡°Sit down! Stop making a scene.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t break stride. ¡°The scene is yours, Grayson. I¡¯m just exiting stage left.¡± She walked out of the dining room with her back straight as a steel rod. Behind her, the room was dead silent. Then Beatrice let out a dry, hacking chuckle. . . . Chapter 72 Chapter 72: ¡°That girl,¡± the old woman muttered. ¡°She has more spine than the lot of youbined.¡± Grayson felt the heat climb up his neck. He gripped his knife until his knuckles turned white. Back in the guest room, the air was peaceful. Isolde ordered grilled cheese and tomato soup for Effie. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She picked it up. An email notification. Sender: And Roth Subject: Official Offer ¡ª Orbital Systems Isolde opened it. The contract was attached. The sry was substantial. The title read: Chief Engineer ¡ª Special Projects. The message body contained only four words: Wee back, Valkyrie. A lump formed in Isolde¡¯s throat. She stared at that name. It had been years since anyone had called her that ¡ª a name from a life she thought she had buried. She forwarded the document to Harper with a brief note: Legal review ASAP. Harper¡¯s reply came back in under a minute. Already done. He sent me a draft yesterday. It¡¯s clean. Sign it. C??ine??e ??ov?????? ???????????????????? §à?? ?????????????????.????m With Harper¡¯s blessing, Isolde tapped the screen and executed her digital signature. Sent. Effie looked up from her coloring book. ¡°Mommy? Are we moving again?¡± Isolde looked at her daughter. ¡°Yes, baby. But this time, we¡¯re moving up. To a ce where no one can make us feel small.¡± From downstairs, the sound of shattering ss echoed up through the venttion shaft. Grayson had finally lost his temper. Isolde smiled. Sunday morning. Isolde was packing. The suitcasey open on the bed, half-filled with Effie¡¯s clothes. The door swung open without a knock. Grayson stood there, holding a ss filled with thick, dark green sludge. Isolde didn¡¯t look up from folding a sweater. ¡°Knocking is a courtesy, Grayson. Try it sometime.¡± Grayson walked into the room, ignoring her. He thrust the ss toward her. ¡°Drink this. It¡¯s a detox blend. Spirulina and kale. You¡¯ve been erratic. Emotional. It¡¯s clearly a hormonal imbnce.¡± Isolde stared at the ss. It was the ssic y. Gaslighting 101. If she was angry, she must be sick. If she had boundaries, she must be unstable. ¡°I¡¯m not sick,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯m divorced. There¡¯s a difference.¡± Grayson¡¯s eyes wandered to the desk, where herptop sat open. The screen saver was active, but the Orbital Systems logo bounced across the ck background. He snorted and picked up theputer. ¡°Orbital? And¡¯s little toypany? Don¡¯t tell me you actually took a job there. You think ying engineer for a few months will make you feel important? Don¡¯t be ridiculous, Isolde. I know exactly what you¡¯re trying to do. You think putting on ab coat makes you Valkyrie?¡± Isolde snatched theptop from his hands. ¡°I¡¯m an engineer, Grayson. A chief engineer.¡± Graysonughed ¡ª a genuine, incredulous sound, though it carried a frantic edge of denial. He was trying to convince himself as much as her. ¡°Chief of what, the coffee machine? Please, Isolde. Don¡¯t embarrass yourself. You spent thest five years nning gs. Let¡¯s not pretend you remember what a differential equation is.¡± . . . Chapter 73 Chapter 73: He truly believed it. Or rather, he had to. He had built his entire world on the foundation of her being lesser. ¡°You need rest,¡± Grayson said, his voice dropping an octave, turning authoritative. ¡°Not a job fetching coffee for men who actually know math. Drink the juice.¡± He stepped closer, looming over her. The smell of his expensive cologne was suffocating. Isolde felt a wave of nausea ¡ª not from the drink, but from the sheer weight of his arrogance. ¡°I said no,¡± she stated. Grayson¡¯s face hardened. ¡°You are testing my patience. Do you realize that without me, you can¡¯t afford that juice? You can¡¯t afford the cup it¡¯s in.¡± Isolde let out a short, sharp breath. She reached out and took the ss. Grayson smiled, smug satisfaction settling across his shoulders. He thought he had won. Isolde turned and walked into the ensuite bathroom. Grayson watched from across the room, expecting her to drink it by the sink. Isolde leaned over the toilet and inverted the ss. The green sludge poured out in a thick, glooping stream and disappeared into the water. She flushed. The roar of the drain was the only sound in the room. Share your favorites from ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Grayson roared, rushing to the doorway. Isolde turned and held the empty ss up to the light. ¡°Detoxing,¡± she said. ¡°It went exactly where it belonged.¡± Grayson lunged and grabbed her shoulder. His fingers dug into her flesh. Isolde didn¡¯t struggle. She looked at his hand, then up at his eyes. Her gaze was perfectly still and absolutely lethal. ¡°Let go,¡± she whispered. ¡°Effie is in the next room.¡± The mention of his daughter made him flinch. His grip loosened just enough. Isolde shoved him backward. He stumbled out of the bathroom. She mmed the door and twisted the lock. ¡°You will regret this!¡± Grayson shouted through the wood. ¡°When you fail at that joke of a job ande crawling back, don¡¯t expect me to be generous!¡± Isolde pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the mirror. She looked at her own reflection. Her eyes were bright. Alive. ¡°Just watch me,¡± she whispered. Grayson paced outside the bathroom for a minute, muttering curses, before finally stomping away. Isolde waited until the footsteps faded before unlocking the door. Effie was standing by the bed, clutching her teddy bear so tightly its head was distorted. Her eyes were huge. ¡°Mommy? Why is Daddy yelling?¡± Isolde knelt and pulled her into a hug. ¡°Daddy is just having a tantrum. Like when you don¡¯t get your way. But he¡¯s a grown-up, so it¡¯s louder.¡± ¡°I want to go home,¡± Effie whispered. ¡°To the small house.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going,¡± Isolde promised. ¡°Right now.¡± She finished packing in record time. She zipped the suitcase, grabbed her purse, and opened the bedroom door. Grayson was leaning against the frame, arms crossed. He had been waiting. ¡°Going somewhere?¡± he asked. ¡°The driver is off today. Sunday.¡± ¡°I have my car,¡± Isolde said, moving to push past him. . . . Chapter 74 Chapter 74: Grayson held up a hand. A key fob dangled from his index finger, the Volvo logo glinting in the light. ¡°The roads are winding,¡± Grayson said smoothly. ¡°And you¡¯re emotional. I can¡¯t in good conscience let you drive. It¡¯s a liability.¡± He pocketed the keys. Isolde felt the blood drain from her face. It was a trap. They were in the middle of nowhere ¡ª no rideshare, no taxi. D????????????? ??????de?? ??§Ö??? ??n g???????????????.co?? ¡°Give me my keys, Grayson.¡± ¡°We leave tomorrow morning,¡± he said. ¡°Together. We¡¯ll drop Effie at school, and I have a meeting in the city. It¡¯s efficient.¡± Isolde clenched her fists. She could fight him for them, but physically he was stronger. And she would not brawl in front of Effie. ¡°Fine,¡± she said tly. ¡°Tomorrow. But get out of my way.¡± Grayson smirked and stepped aside. ¡°See? Compromise. That¡¯s how marriage works.¡± ¡°We aren¡¯t married,¡± Isolde reminded him. ¡°On paper, we are,¡± he countered, and walked away whistling. Isolde went back into the room. She dragged a heavy armchair across the floor and wedged it firmly under the door handle. ¡°Mommy?¡± Effie asked from the bed. ¡°Just a game, baby,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Fortress.¡± That night, Isolde didn¡¯t sleep. She sat in the armchair and watched the door. Effie tossed and turned, whimpering in the dark. ¡°Don¡¯t hit me¡­ don¡¯t¡­¡± Isolde¡¯s heart broke with every sound. Monday morning arrived under a gray, overcast sky. The house was a flurry of activity, Mrs. Higgins packing a cooler with Beatrice¡¯s medications. Isolde dragged their suitcase down the stairs, Effie trailing close behind her. Grayson stood in the foyer checking his watch, immacte in a navy suit. ¡°Put the bags in the Maybach,¡± Grayson ordered the driver. ¡°No,¡± Isolde said clearly. ¡°Give me my keys. I am driving my car.¡± Grayson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Isolde, don¡¯t start this again. We¡¯rete.¡± ¡°I am not getting in a car with you,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Keys. Now.¡± They stood in the narrow foyer, locked in a standoff of wills. ¡°You are being childish,¡± Grayson snapped. He held a ceramic cup in one hand ¡ª a double espresso, steaming hot. His phone rang. The ringtone was specific, a soft melodic chime. Belle. Grayson¡¯s face softened instantly. He answered, turning slightly away from Isolde. ¡°Hey, Belle¡­ I know, I¡¯m leaving now¡­¡± Effie was standing by the stairs. She had just realized she¡¯d left her coloring book on thending. She saw the adults arguing, saw her mother distracted. Panic seized her. She needed her book. She bolted. She ran toward the stairs, cutting between the wall and Grayson. Grayson was focused on Belle¡¯s voice in his ear. He didn¡¯t see the small blur of blue. His leg caught Effie. He stumbled. His hand jerked. The cup of espresso ¡ª boiling hot from the machine ¡ª flew from his grip. The dark liquid sshed across Effie¡¯s bare arm and shin. For a moment, there was no sound at all. Then Effie screamed. It was a sound that tore through the house, high and jagged and raw. . . . Chapter 75 Chapter 75: Grayson looked down. He saw the coffee dripping onto his trousers. ¡°Dammit!¡± he barked into the phone. ¡°Belle, hold on.¡± He looked at Effie, his face twisted in annoyance. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going! This suit is custom Zegna. It¡¯s twenty thousand dors!¡± Isolde dropped the suitcase. It hit the floor with a heavy thud. She moved faster than thought. She reached Effie in a single stride, already seeing the angry red skin blistering along her arm and shin. She shoved Grayson. Hard. ????????????????e s????r????s ??? ??al??ov§Öls.?????? ¡°Get away from her!¡± she screamed. Grayson stumbled back, stunned. ¡°You pushed me? She ran into me!¡± Mrs. Higgins came rushing from the kitchen, gasping when she took in the scene. Isolde scooped Effie up, ignoring the coffee soaking through her own white shirt. She ran for the kitchen. ¡°Cold water! I need cold water!¡± Grayson stood in the foyer, dabbing at his trousers with a handkerchief. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± he muttered into the phone. ¡°The kid is a menace. She ruined my suit.¡± In the kitchen, Isolde thrust Effie¡¯s burning arm and shin under the tap and sted the cold water. Effie was sobbing, her whole body shaking. ¡°It burns, Mommy! It burns!¡± ¡°I know, baby, I know,¡± Isolde wept, holding her tight. ¡°I¡¯ve got you.¡± Beatrice appeared at the kitchen doorway, her wheelchair motor whirring softly. She had heard everything from the hallway. She looked at Grayson, who had followed them in stillining. ¡°Mom, look at this.¡± He gestured at his leg. ¡°Effie is out of control.¡± Beatrice didn¡¯t speak. She lifted her cane. She swung it with surprising force. The heavy wood cracked against Grayson¡¯s shin. ¡°You animal,¡± Beatrice hissed. ¡°That is your own flesh and blood screaming in there, and you worry about wool?¡± Grayson yelped and clutched his leg. ¡°Grandmother!¡± ¡°Get out,¡± Beatrice said, her voice trembling with rage. ¡°Get out of my sight.¡± Grayson rubbed his shin, looking from his grandmother to his weeping daughter. ¡°You¡¯re all hysterical,¡± he said, his voice rising. ¡°It¡¯s just a little hot water. She¡¯s fine.¡± Isolde turned off the tap. She wrapped Effie¡¯s arm and leg in clean, wet dish towels, then turned to face Grayson. Her expression was a mask of absolute hatred. ¡°Keys,¡± she said. ¡°Now.¡± ¡°My driver can take you to a clinic if you¡¯re so worried,¡± Grayson sneered. ¡°Give her the keys!¡± Beatrice roared. She grabbed a porcin bowl from the counter and hurled it. It smashed at Grayson¡¯s feet, shards skittering across the tile. Grayson jumped back. He looked at his grandmother with something close to genuine fear. He reached into his pocket and threw the Volvo keys onto the ind. ¡°Fine! Go! But remember, we have to stop at the school. Belle is waiting for an apology for the other day.¡± Isolde went still. She stared at him. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Belle is at St. Jude¡¯s,¡± Grayson said, as though it were self-evident. ¡°You embarrassed her. You need to apologize before we move on.¡± . . . Chapter 76 Chapter 76: Isolde let out augh that sounded like a sob. ¡°You want me to apologize¡­ while our daughter has second-degree burns?¡± ¡°Effie can wait twenty minutes,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Priorities, Isolde.¡± ¡°Priorities,¡± Isolde repeated. She grabbed the keys. She picked up Effie. ¡°Mrs. Higgins,¡± Beatricemanded. ¡°Go with her. Help her.¡± ??e??d ????tho???? ??????§Örr??????i?????? ??? ??a??????????????.????m Isolde ran to the car. She strapped Effie in, her hands shaking. Mrs. Higgins climbed into the back seat with a bag of ice and fresh wet towels. Isolde mmed the car into gear. The tires screeched against the gravel as she tore out of the driveway. Grayson stood on the porch, watching them go. He lifted the phone back to his ear. ¡°Yeah, Belle. They¡¯re leaving. They¡¯re crazy. Only you understand me.¡± On the road, Isolde pressed a button on the steering wheel. ¡°Call Harper.¡± The line connected. ¡°Isolde?¡± ¡°I want to sue,¡± Isolde said, her voice stripped of all emotion. ¡°Full custody. Sole custody. Negligence. Endangerment. I want him destroyed, Harper. I want him to bleed.¡± Harper didn¡¯t ask questions. ¡°I¡¯m drafting the motion now. Get medical records. Photos.¡± ¡°I will,¡± Isolde said. She nced in the rearview mirror at Effie¡¯s tear-streaked face. ¡°Mommy,¡± Effie whispered. ¡°I don¡¯t like Daddy. I want a new Daddy.¡± Isolde gripped the wheel. ¡°We¡¯re done with him, baby,¡± she said. ¡°Forever.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t drive to the hospital immediately. The nearest trauma center was past St. Jude¡¯s. She had to pass the school. As she neared the school gates, a ck Maybach swerved in front of her, cutting her off. Isolde mmed on the brakes. The Volvo skidded to a halt. Grayson jumped out of his car and ran back to her window, banging on the ss. ¡°You aren¡¯t leaving until you talk to Belle!¡± he shouted. ¡°She¡¯s right there!¡± He pointed. Belle was standing by the school gate, looking perfect in a pastel dress, surrounded by a handful of other mothers. She looked expectant. Isolde stared at the man banging on her window. He was deranged. His need to control her, to humiliate her, had overridden everyst trace of sanity. From the back seat, Effie let out a pained whimper, and a primal, protective rage erased every other thought in Isolde¡¯s mind. She didn¡¯t hesitate. She didn¡¯t think. Isolde shifted into reverse, then mmed the car into drive and cranked the wheel hard. The Volvo surged forward and mounted the curb. She drove along the sidewalk, scraping past Grayson. The side mirror missed his hip by inches. Belle screamed. ¡°She¡¯s trying to kill him!¡± Isolde didn¡¯t stop. She merged back onto the road and floored it. Grayson stood in the exhaust fumes, coughing. He caught a glimpse of the Volvo¡¯s interior as it sped away ¡ª Mrs. Higgins pressing a wet towel to Effie¡¯s red, blistering arm. He saw the burn. His hands were shaking, though not with remorse. ¡°Bank of America,¡± he barked into his phone. ¡°Concierge.¡± ¡°Yes, Mr. Lancaster?¡± ¡°Freeze the secondary cards. All of them. Isolde Carson. Cut her off. Now.¡± ¡°Certainly, sir.¡± Grayson smiled grimly. ¡°Let¡¯s see how she pays for that emergency room visit now.¡± . . . Chapter 77 Chapter 77: Twenty minutester, at the Mount Sinai Emergency Room intake desk. ¡°That will be a co-pay of five hundred dors for the immediate burn treatment,¡± the nurse said. Isolde handed over her tinum Amex ¡ª the one Grayson paid for. She knew exactly what would happen next, but she wanted the official record. Another piece of evidence for Harper. The nurse swiped it. Frowned. Swiped again. ???? ?????? ?????????? ??§à ??ea?? ???? ????l?????e????.??§à?? ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am. Declined.¡± Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed. A text from the bank: Card suspended by primary ount holder. Isolde stared at the message. Checkmate. He was trying to strangle her ¡ª even now, even here. She reached into her purse and pulled out her personal phone. She opened the digital wallet ¡ª a secure app linked to her new employer. The screen disyed a sleek, matte-ck virtual card with no numbers, only a silver chip icon and the Orbital Systems logo. It was her signing bonus ount. Unlimited corporate expense authorization for emergencies and relocation. ¡°Try this one,¡± Isolde said, holding the phone over the contactless reader. The nurse took the phone. Her eyebrows lifted. The terminal beeped. Approved. ¡°We¡¯ll get her a private room,¡± the nurse said, her entire manner shifting in an instant. Isolde walked into the treatment room. Effie was dozing, her arm neatly bandaged, her small face finally peaceful. Isolde sat down and opened herptop. She had a job to start tomorrow. And she was going to own it. Tuesday morning. New York City hummed with the sound of ambition. Isolde stepped out of the taxi in front of the Orbital Systems tower. She wore a white suit sharp enough to cut ss. Her heels clicked on the pavement like gunshots. She had left Effie with Harper and a private nurse at the apartment. Today was for war. She walked into the lobby ¡ª a cathedral of ss and steel. Standing near the executive elevator bank, clearly finishing a meeting, were two familiar figures. Belle Escobar and Daron McKnight. Belle wore a floral dress with a print so loud it seemed designed to scream wealth rather than whisper it. Daron was in his usual shy suit. Daron spotted her first. He smirked. ¡°Well, look who it is. The ex-Mrs. Lancaster. Here to beg for a handout?¡± Belle giggled. ¡°Oh, Daron, be nice. Maybe she¡¯s applying for the janitorial staff. I hear they have good benefits.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t slow down. She walked straight toward the executive elevators. Daron stepped into her path, blocking the way. ¡°You can¡¯t go up there, sweetheart. That¡¯s for the big boys. You lost your ess when you lost your husband.¡± He gestured vaguely, as if to shoo her away. Isolde stopped. She looked at Daron. ¡°Move.¡± ¡°Make me,¡± Daron sneered. He reached out to grab her arm and steer her away. Isolde didn¡¯t think. Instinct took over. She sidestepped his reach. Her hand shot out, mping onto his wrist. She twisted, using his own momentum against him ¡ª a move she had learned in the pitnes, dealing with drunk mechanics. . . . Chapter 78 Chapter 78: Daron yelped, forced to bend at the waist to keep his arm from snapping. He was suddenly bowing to her. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me,¡± Isolde whispered in his ear. ¡°I am not in the mood.¡± She released him. He stumbled back, rubbing his wrist, his face crimson. Belle gasped, clutching her pearls. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re violent!¡± Isolde ignored her. She pulled the ck key card from her pocket and tapped it against the sensor of the private elevator. Beep. ess Granted: Level 40 ¡ª Executive R&D. ????e?????????? ??o??????? on ????????????e??s.§ã???? The doors slid open. Isolde stepped inside and turned to face them as the doors began to close. ¡°Enjoy the lobby,¡± she said. The doors shut, cutting off Belle¡¯s stunned expression. When the elevator opened on the top floor, And Roth was waiting. ¡°Security said there was an incident,¡± And said, raising an eyebrow. Isolde straightened her jacket. ¡°Just taking out the trash.¡± And smiled. ¡°Wee home, Valkyrie.¡± He led her down the hall to a ss-walled office. On the door, etched in frosted ss: Chief Engineer. Isolde pressed her fingertips against the ss. It was real. Two floors below, in a generic conference room, Belle was sweating. She stood in front of a projection screen, clicking through a PowerPoint presentation filled with stock photos of space stations. This wasn¡¯t a pitch for funding but a presentation at an exclusive, closed-door industry symposium Orbital was hosting ¡ª an opportunity for rivals to posture and showcase conceptual work. ¡°And so,¡± Belle said, her voice trembling slightly, ¡°the synergy of the ecosystem will create a paradigm shift in¡­ habitation.¡± The three engineers from Orbital sat across the table. They looked bored. The lead engineer, a woman with sharp eyes named Dr. Wu, raised a hand. ¡°Ms. Escobar,¡± Dr. Wu said. ¡°This is very¡­ pretty. But where are the specifications? What is the oxygen scrub rate? What is the radiation shielding material?¡± Belle froze. ¡°Well¡­ those are details we are still refining. This is a conceptual overview.¡± Dr. Wu closed her folder. ¡°Orbital deals in physics, not poetry. This presentation is concluded.¡± Belle felt the tears prick her eyes. ¡°But¡­ Grayson Lancaster supports this project!¡± ¡°Then Mr. Lancaster can enjoy the concept,¡± Dr. Wu said, rising from her seat. ¡°Good day.¡± Belle ran out of the room and dialed Grayson immediately. ¡°Gray!¡± she sobbed into the phone. ¡°They were so mean! They rejected me! That woman was sexist!¡± Grayson, sitting in his office across town, sighed. He was already buried in the PR fallout from the school incident, but Belle¡¯s tears had always worked on him. ¡°Don¡¯t cry, baby,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Orbital is small time. I¡¯ll make a call. I¡¯ll get you a fellowship at The Institute. I¡¯ll make a donation sorge that even a purist like Professor Nelson can¡¯t refuse.¡± ¡°The Institute?¡± Belle sniffled. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yes. Senator Miller owes me a favor. You¡¯ll be a fellow by Monday.¡± Upstairs, in the ss office, Isolde was reviewing schematics. And walked in. ¡°You heard?¡± And asked. ¡°Belle bombed her presentation.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t look up. ¡°I assumed.¡± ¡°Grayson is pulling strings,¡± And said. ¡°He¡¯s getting her into The Institute.¡± . . . Chapter 79 Chapter 79: Isolde¡¯s hand paused over the blueprint. The Institute. That was sacred ground. That was where Professor Nelson ruled. A slow smile spread across her face. ¡°Let her go,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Let him buy her a seat at the table.¡± ¡°Why?¡± And asked. ¡°She¡¯ll ruin the reputation of the ce.¡± ¡°Because,¡± Isolde said, looking up with eyes that gleamed like cold stars, ¡°Professor Nelson eats frauds for breakfast. If she goes there, she won¡¯t just fail. She will be dissected.¡± Isolde turned back to her work. The air conditioning in the Aka Wall Street suite exhaled a gust of sterile, refrigerated air ¡ª a stark contrast to the humid New York evening outside. Isolde sat on the edge of the beige sofa, a first-aid kit open on the coffee table. She was carefully changing the dressing on Effie¡¯s left arm. Effie sat with the rigid posture of a child who had learned that the world was full of sharp edges and boiling liquids. She clutched the hem of Isolde¡¯s zer with her good hand, her knuckles white. ¡°Does it hurt?¡± Isolde asked, her voice low. ??????o????????d ????????????§Ö????.c§àm ???? ??§àu?? ??ri??nd?? ¡°Only a little,¡± Effie whispered, looking at her shoes. Her breath hitched ¡ª a tiny, involuntary gasp as the antiseptic wipe grazed the edge of the burn. ¡°Like a sunburn.¡± It was a lie. Isolde knew the sting of a second-degree burn. It throbbed. It pulsed with every heartbeat. But Effie had learned to internalize her pain, trained by a household where her difort was treated as an inconvenience to others. She had learned to hide it because, in that house, pain belonged to no one but herself. Isolde finished taping the new gauze, her movements unhurried and gentle. She helped Effie back against the cushions and turned on the television, finding a cartoon about a sponge living in a pineapple. The mindless noise was a balm. Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed on the coffee table. She nced at the screen. FaceTime: Kaiden. The name no longer evoked love ¡ª it evoked the sound of shattering ss and cruelughter. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the red button. But old habits died hard. Five years of conditioning. Five years of being the only mother figure that boy had ever truly known. She tapped green. The screen filled with the chaotic interior of the Penthouse living room. Expensive Lego sets, a drone with a broken propeller, and discarded wrappers were strewn across the floor. Kaiden sat on the white leather sofa, face flushed, holding an iPad too close to his nose. ¡°Isolde!¡± he shouted. No greeting. No question about his sister. Isolde kept her face neutral. ¡°Hello, Kaiden.¡± ¡°I¡¯m hungry,¡± he whined, the sound grating like metal on metal. ¡°The chef made sea bass. It smells like feet. I want your mac and cheese. The one with the breadcrumbs.¡± Isolde nced at Effie. Effie was staring at the television, but her shoulders had drawn inward. She was listening. She was shrinking. ¡°Kaiden,¡± Isolde said, keeping her voice steady. ¡°I am not there. And Effie is hurt. We need to rest.¡± . . . Chapter 80 Chapter 80: ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± Kaiden screamed. The audio cracked with the volume. ¡°Belle said you¡¯re just having a tantrum! She said you¡¯re trying to get attention! Come back and make me dinner! Now!¡± Isolde felt a cold snap in her chest. Tantrum. That was Grayson¡¯s word. Belle¡¯s word. And now it lived in the mouth of a six-year-old. ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. Kaiden stopped screaming, stunned. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I said no. Ask your father to make you dinner. Or Belle. I am not your chef.¡± She didn¡¯t wait for the meltdown. She didn¡¯t wait for the tears that used to manipte her into submission. She tapped the red button. The screen went ck. Effie turned her head slowly. Her eyes were wide, filled with a terrified awe. ¡°Will¡­ will he be mad?¡± Isolde sat beside her and pulled her into a gentle hug, mindful of the bandaged arm. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if he¡¯s mad, baby. His anger is not our problem anymore.¡± Effie rested her head against Isolde¡¯s chest. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°You know what?¡± Isolde said, standing and smoothing her skirt. ¡°We need food. Real food. Not room service.¡± ¡°Supermarket?¡± Effie asked. ??§à??????a?? ????or??§Ö?? §à? ????????§àv?????.?????? ¡°Whole Foods,¡± Isolde dered. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± The Whole Foods in Tribeca was a cathedral of organic consumerism ¡ª perfectly stacked pyramids of apples, walls of artisanal cheese, and the warm scent of ground coffee beans. It was ordinary. It was life. Isolde ced Effie in the cart, careful of her arm, and pushed them through the produce section, letting the vibrant colors wash away the gray of the hotel suite. ¡°Strawberries,¡± Isolde said, spotting a disy of massive, ruby-red berries. ¡°Organic. Your favorite.¡± She picked up a stic mshell and handed it to Effie. Effie held the box with her good hand. She stared at the price sticker. $8.99. Her small face crumpled. She reached out and ced the strawberries back on the shelf. ¡°Mommy,¡± she whispered, ncing around as thoughmitting a crime. ¡°Too expensive.¡± Isolde¡¯s hands tightened on the cart handle. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Daddy stopped the cards,¡± Effie said, her voice trembling. ¡°We have to save money. I can eat the apples. The ones in the bag are cheaper.¡± The air left Isolde¡¯s lungs as though she had been struck. Five years old. Her daughter was five years old, and she was calcting unit prices because her father had weaponized poverty against them. Grayson had cut off the money not simply to punish Isolde, but to frighten Effie. To make a child feel the full weight of survival. Isolde crouched down right there in the aisle. She took Effie¡¯s face in both hands. ¡°Look at me,¡± Isolde said, her voice fierce and gentle at once. ¡°Effie, look at me.¡± Effie blinked. A tear slipped free. ¡°Daddy stopped his cards,¡± Isolde said. ¡°But Mommy has a job now. A big job. I make my own money. Lots of it.¡± Effie sniffled. ¡°More than Daddy?¡± ¡°Enough to buy this whole store if we wanted to.¡± Isolde stood. ¡°We are not poor. We are not saving money. Not on food. Not on you.¡± . . . Chapter 81 Chapter 81: She grabbed the strawberries. Then she grabbed another box. She marched to the meat counter and ordered two prime ribeyes. She added a bag of imported truffle chips, a box of artisanal choctes, and a jar of expensive manuka honey. She filled the cart until it was a mountain of indulgence. At the checkout, the cashier scanned item after item. The total climbed. Effie watched the screen, her lips moving silently. ¡°$340.50,¡± she whispered to herself. Isolde heard her. ¡°That¡¯s right, smart girl.¡± ??????§àm???????? ??§Ñ???????????s.§ã??m t?? ???????? f???????????? She pulled out her phone, opened her digital wallet, and selected a matte-ck personal card ¡ª sleek and unmarked save for a single silver stylized S in the corner. It was linked to a private ount she had maintained for years under her pseudonym. A financial ghost Grayson could never touch. Beep. ¡°Approved,¡± the cashier said cheerfully. ¡°Receipt in the bag?¡± ¡°Yes, please.¡± Isolde handed the receipt to Effie. ¡°See? Magic.¡± Effie looked at the paper, then up at her mother. A slow, tentative smile spread across her face. ¡°Mommy, your card works.¡± ¡°Mommy is free,¡± Isolde corrected, kissing the top of her head. ¡°Let¡¯s go home and have a feast.¡± Back at the hotel, the kitchte was small but functional. Isolde seared the steaks and made a pot of creamy mac and cheese from scratch ¡ª the kind Kaiden had demanded, but this time made for the person who deserved it. They ate on the sofa, watching cartoons. There was no tension. No Seraphina making snidements about calories. No Grayson checking his watch. No Belle pretending to be allergic to gluten just to demand a second meal from the kitchen. Effie ate until her chin was shiny with cheese sauce. For the first time in days, her shoulders dropped. She looked like a child, not a refugee. Isolde watched her, a fierce protectiveness burning low and steady in her chest. She would burn the world down to keep this peace. Later, after Effie had fallen asleep surrounded by pillows, Isolde sat at the small desk with herptop open. The hotel wasfortable, but it wasn¡¯t a home. They needed roots. Her email pinged. Sender: And Roth Subject: Sanctuary Isolde, I know you¡¯re at the Aka. It¡¯s fine for a week, but you need a fortress. I have a property in Tribeca. High security. The doorman knows how to keep out unwanted ex-husbands. Ten-minute walk to Orbital HQ. Link attached. It¡¯s vacant. It¡¯s yours if you want it. ¡ª A Isolde clicked the link. The apartment was stunning ¡ª minimalist, light-filled, and secure. She typed back: I¡¯ll take it. When can I see it? She closed theptop and looked out at the city lights. Somewhere out there, in a cold and empty penthouse, Grayson was probably realizing that his hunger strike tactics hadn¡¯t worked. She smiled. He had no idea what wasing. The next morning, the sun was bright and unforgiving. Isolde decided her arsenal needed an upgrade. The clothes in her suitcase were tactical ¡ª remnants of her first break from the Lancaster world, suitable for boardrooms andbs. But for the war toe, she needed armor. ¡°We are going shopping,¡± Isolde announced. . . . Chapter 82 Chapter 82: They took a cab uptown to Bergdorf Goodman. The department store smelled of expensive perfume and old money. Isolde bypassed the sections she used to frequent. She went straight to the designers Grayson had always dismissed as ¡°too aggressive.¡± She selected a structured zer in charcoal gray, trousers that allowed for movement, and a blouse in deep blood red. She stepped out of the dressing room and looked in the three-way mirror. The woman staring back wasn¡¯t a housewife. She was a weapon. Effie was in the children¡¯s section, spinning in slow circles, wearing a pale pink dress with tulleyers. ¡°Do you like it?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°It spins!¡± Effie giggled. ¡°Well, well.¡± A voice sliced through the air. ¡°If it isn¡¯t the runaway wife.¡± M§à???? r????d ???????? ??§Ö???? ???? g????n?????????.??§à?? Isolde¡¯s spine stiffened. She saw them in the mirror before she turned. Belle was clinging to Grayson¡¯s arm like a barnacle, wearing a white sundress and an oversized hat that looked ridiculous indoors. Daron McKnight trailed behind them, carrying shopping bags like a glorified pack mule. When his eyes met Isolde¡¯s, he flinched almost imperceptibly, a phantom ache in his wrist. Grayson looked tired ¡ª dark circles beneath his eyes ¡ª but his sneer was as polished as ever. He scanned Isolde¡¯s new outfit, his gaze widening for a fraction of a second before narrowing in contempt. ¡°Spending the alimony before the judge even awards it?¡± Grayson asked, his voice thick with condescension. ¡°Bold move, Isolde. Considering I froze your ounts.¡± ¡°We¡¯re just browsing,¡± Belle chimed in, her voice sugary sweet. She drifted toward Effie. ¡°Oh, that dress is adorable. But look, there¡¯s a loose thread.¡± She plucked at the tulle roughly. ¡°It¡¯s a bit cheap, isn¡¯t it? Gray, why don¡¯t we buy Kaiden that new Gi jacket he wanted? Something worthy of a Lancaster.¡± Effie shrank back, hiding behind a rack of coats. She recognized the tone ¡ª the same one Belle used when she suggested Effie should eat in the kitchen. Isolde stepped between them. ¡°Don¡¯t touch her. And don¡¯t talk to her.¡± Daronughed, shifting the bags. The sound was forced, and he kept his distance. ¡°Feisty. For a woman with zero dors to her name, you sure have a lot of attitude. What are you going to pay with? Good intentions?¡± Grayson drew a sleek ck card from his wallet and held it up, catching the light. ¡°Actually,¡± Grayson said loudly, ensuring the nearby sales associate could hear, ¡°I think we¡¯ll take everything in this section. For Belle. Send it to the Penthouse.¡± He looked at Isolde, a cruel smile ying at the corners of his mouth. ¡°It¡¯s remarkable what you can do when you actually contribute to the family wealth, isn¡¯t it?¡± It was a public execution. He was buying the store simply to demonstrate that she couldn¡¯t afford a sock. Belle beamed and rested her head on his shoulder. ¡°Oh, Gray, you spoil me. Isolde, if you need clothes, I¡¯m clearing out my closet next week. I have some things fromst season that might fit you. If you lose a few pounds.¡± . . . Chapter 83 Chapter 83: Isolde felt heat rise in her cheeks. Not shame. Rage. Pure, molten rage. ¡°Excuse me.¡± A hand settled on Isolde¡¯s shoulder. Warm. Firm. She turned. ??e??o????§Ö?d ??????n??????l??.c???? ???? ???????? ????????n???? And Roth stood there in a casual linen suit, looking as though he had just stepped off a yacht ¡ªpletely, infuriatingly at ease. ¡°Sorry I¡¯mte,¡± And said, his voice smooth. ¡°Traffic on Fifth is a nightmare.¡± Grayson¡¯s face went ck. ¡°Roth? What are you doing here?¡± And ignored him entirely. He crouched down and peered behind the coat rack. ¡°Hey there, little one,¡± And said softly. ¡°I¡¯m And. Remember me?¡± Effie peeked out. She studied his eyes ¡ª crinkled at the corners, kind. She nodded slowly. And stood and walked to the counter. He produced a card from his pocket ¡ª not stic, but heavy anodized titanium. ¡°Thedy and the child will take everything they¡¯ve selected,¡± And told the sales associate. ¡°And add the winter collection for the girl. She¡¯s going to need a warm coat.¡± He set the card down with a quiet click. ¡°Put it on the Orbital ount. Employee welfare.¡± Grayson stepped forward, fists tightening. ¡°You¡¯re paying for her clothes? Is that what she is now? A charity case?¡± And turned and regarded Grayson with mild amusement. ¡°Charity? No. Isolde is my Chief Engineer. This is a signing bonus. We take care of our talent, Lancaster. We don¡¯t starve them.¡± He nced pointedly at the ck card in Grayson¡¯s hand. ¡°You can keep your department store buyout. We prefer quality over quantity.¡± He picked up the shopping bags the clerk had assembled. ¡°Ready to go?¡± And asked Isolde. ¡°The realtor is waiting.¡± Isolde looked at Grayson. He was turning a shade of purple she had never seen before ¡ª impotent, diminished, small. She hooked her arm through And¡¯s. ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s get out of here. The air is stale.¡± They walked out, leaving the trio standing amid the racks of expensive clothes. ¡°I can¡¯t believe him!¡± Belle shrieked as they disappeared through the doors. ¡°Gray, do something!¡± ¡°Shut up, Belle,¡± Grayson snapped. Outside, the air was clean and bright. ¡°Thank you,¡± Isolde said quietly as they waited for And¡¯s car. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that.¡± ¡°I enjoyed it,¡± And grinned. ¡°Besides, you represent Orbital now. Can¡¯t have you walking around in rags.¡± In the back seat of the car, Effie reached out and touched And¡¯s sleeve. ¡°You¡¯re nice,¡± she said. ¡°Not like Daddy.¡± And¡¯s expression softened into something profound. ¡°Thank you, Effie,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s the bestpliment I¡¯ve ever received.¡± The apartment in Tribeca was a fortress of ss and concrete. The lobby was quiet, manned by a doorman who looked as though he had once yed professional football. He nodded at And. ¡°Mr. Roth. Good to see you.¡± ¡°This is Ms. Carson,¡± And said. ¡°She¡¯s the new resident of 4B. Full ess.¡± The elevator opened directly into the unit. It was spacious, with wide-nk oak floors and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the Hudson River. Clean lines, open space, uncluttered by anything unnecessary. . . . Chapter 84 Chapter 84: Effie ran into the living room, her footsteps echoing. ¡°Look at the water!¡± Isolde walked to the balcony doors. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ incredible.¡± ¡°It was an investment property,¡± And said, leaning against the kitchen ind. ¡°I never fully furnished it. But the basics are there. Beds, sofa, inte.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pay rent,¡± Isolde said immediately. ¡°Market rate.¡± And waved a hand. ¡°We can deduct it from your paycheck if it makes you feel better. Consider it corporate housing.¡± They stepped out onto the balcony. The wind whipped Isolde¡¯s hair across her face. Below, the city bustled ¡ª tiny yellow cabs weaving through traffic like slow-moving beetles. ¡°Here,¡± And said, handing her a set of keys. ¡°Wee home.¡± Isolde took them. Her fingers brushed his palm ¡ª a simple transfer of metalsting a fraction of a second. Down on the street, parked in a nondescript sedan, Daron McKnight adjusted the focus on his telephoto lens. ?????e?????? ??§à????nc?? ???? ??§Ñ????????????s.co?? Click. Click. Click. Through the lens, the distance ttened. It looked like And was holding Isolde¡¯s hand. It looked intimate. It looked like a lovers¡¯ tryst on a balcony. Daron grinned. ¡°Gotcha.¡± He hit send. Across town, in the SkyLine office, Grayson¡¯s phone buzzed. He opened the image. He stared at it. The blood roared in his ears. Isolde, smiling. And, touching her. In a Tribeca apartment. ¡°She didn¡¯t just leave,¡± Grayson whispered, his voice trembling with fury. ¡°She defected. She went to the enemy. She¡¯s using him toe after me.¡± He swept his arm across his desk. A stack of files and a crystal paperweight crashed to the floor. Back in the apartment, Isolde was oblivious. ¡°We can move in tonight?¡± she asked. ¡°Tonight?¡± And raised an eyebrow. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to get movers?¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I have two suitcases. That¡¯s it. I don¡¯t want to spend another night in a hotel.¡± By evening, they were settled. Effie was asleep in the second bedroom, bathed in the soft glow of star-shaped string lights And had miraculously produced from a closet. Isolde stood in the living room, looking out at the city. She felt lighter. But there was a nagging weight in her chest. Her dissertation. Her original, leather-bound graduate thesis from The Institute. She had to get it back. Tucked within its pages, irreceable, were her grandmother¡¯s original onionskin sketches ¡ª the only physical link to the genesis of her work, something that could never be digitized. She had left it hidden in the back of the safe in the master bedroom at the Penthouse. In the chaos of leaving after Effie was burned, she had forgotten the one thing that represented the woman she used to be. It was more than paper. It was her identity. She pulled out her phone and opened the smart home app. She had been removed as an administrator ¡ª she knew that. But she tapped on the ¡°System Diagnostics¡± feature. It still loaded. . . . Chapter 85 Chapter 85: Grayson, in his arrogance, had revoked her fingerprint ess and user-level permissions, but he hadn¡¯t wiped the root firmware. He didn¡¯t know she had written a backdoor into the system years ago ¡ª a ghost protocol, for emergencies. She checked the logs. Front Door: Locked. Motion Sensors: Living Room Active. She needed that thesis. And she needed to retrieve it before Grayson realized the system still had a ghost. Tomorrow. Grayson had a board meeting at nine in the morning. The Penthouse would be empty. Or so she hoped. Her phone buzzed. A text from Harper. Be careful. The locks aren¡¯t the only things broken in that house. I¡¯m hearing whispers. He¡¯s unstable. Isolde stared at the message. It was cryptic ¡ª and it confirmed her fears. She deleted it. She was going back. Onest time. Isolde parked the Volvo three blocks from the Lancaster building. She worerge sunsses and a scarf, keeping her head down. The doorman ¡ª a new face she didn¡¯t recognize ¡ª was busy helping an elderly woman with her poodle. Isolde slipped past him into the service elevator. Her heart hammered against her ribs as the numbers climbed. PH. ??§à?n §à??r ??????????n??t?? §à?? ????????§à??????s.§ão?? The doors opened. The foyer was silent. She approached the keypad but didn¡¯t touch it. Instead, she pulled out a slim, unmarked burner phone, its screen glowing with a simple terminal interface. She tapped the screen, running a string of code she had embedded in thework¡¯s firmware years ago ¡ª a ghost protocol designed to bypass all user-level security. A silent, digital key. The light on the keypad shed green. Not from a code, but from amand. Isolde let out a breath she hadn¡¯t known she was holding. She pushed the door open. The smell hit her first. Not lemon polish anymore ¡ª something cloying and heavy, synthetic roses. Midnight Rose. Belle¡¯s perfume. It was everywhere, saturating the air. The living room was a mess. Takeout boxes, empty wine bottles, discarded ties. It looked like a fraternity house, not a family home. Isolde moved silently toward the master bedroom. The door was ajar. She pushed it open. And stopped. Belle was there. She wasn¡¯t at work. She was perched on the vanity stool, surrounded by scattered papers from the safe ¡ª which stood open ¡ª wearing Isolde¡¯s favorite silk morning robe. The pale blue one Isolde had bought in Paris. She was clearly working, a frustrated crease in her brow as she attempted to decipher a stack of Isolde¡¯s old research notes. The nausea hit Isolde so hard she had to grip the doorframe. It wasn¡¯t heartbreak. It was revulsion ¡ª pure, biological disgust. They were living in her space, using her sheets, wearing her clothes, and attempting to plunder her mind. Belle looked up, startled by the sound. Her eyes went wide, then narrowed into a smirk. ¡°Well,¡± Belle drawled, not moving an inch. ¡°You still have a key? Gray really needs to update his security.¡± Isolde walked into the room. ¡°Where is it?¡± ¡°Where is what?¡± Belle asked, examining her manicure. ¡°My thesis. It was in the safe.¡± . . . Chapter 86 Chapter 86: Isolde looked at the vanity. It was unrecognizable. Her organized trays were gone, reced by a chaotic sprawl of Belle¡¯s makeup, hairspray cans, and cheap jewelry. ¡°Oh, that old thing?¡± Belleughed. ¡°That dusty book? I cleared out all the junk to make room for my things. Gray said this is my room now. So I made space.¡± ¡°Junk?¡± Isolde stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. ¡°That was my life¡¯s work. Where is it?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Belle shrugged. ¡°Maybe I threw it out. Maybe the cleaner took it. Or maybe¡­¡± She paused, her eyes glinting with malice. ¡°Maybe I used it for kindling. Just like you torched your marriage.¡± Isolde saw red. She spotted something in the wastebasket near the vanity. Shredded paper ¡ª thick, legal bond paper. She recognized the letterhead. It was the supplemental asset division agreement she had sent over the previous week. The one demanding a fifty percent stake in SkyLine¡¯s new intellectual property. Shredded. Unsigned. ¡°He didn¡¯t sign,¡± Isolde said, the realization settling like ice. ¡°Of course not,¡± Belle gloated. ¡°He¡¯s not going to give you a cent. He¡¯s going to starve you out until youe crawling back to beg. And when you do, maybe I¡¯ll let you be the nanny.¡± ??o§â??l??r ????§à??????s §àn ??a????ov??l?.?????? Isolde looked at the woman in her robe. The woman who had poisoned her marriage, hurt her daughter, and now desecrated her history. Isolde moved. Her eyesnded on a pair of antique silver letter openers on the desk ¡ª heavy, ornate. ¡°Hey!¡± Belle shrieked, sensing the shift in the air. Isolde picked one up. The cool weight of the metal was grounding. With a flick of her wrist, she hooked the sharp tip under the silkpel of the robe and yanked. Hard. ¡°You¡¯re crazy!¡± Belle scrambled back against the vanity, clutching the torn silk. ¡°It¡¯s mine,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And you¡¯ve contaminated it.¡± She used the tip of the letter opener to push the robe off the bed and onto the floor, as though both were now toxic. ¡°Actually,¡± Isolde said, wiping her hands on her trousers as if she had touched something foul. ¡°Keep it. It smells like you now. Cheap.¡± She turned to the vanity and swept Belle¡¯s bottles off the surface with one clean motion. ss shattered across the floor. Perfume pooled between the shards. ¡°You can¡¯t do this!¡± Belle screamed. ¡°Tell Grayson I was here,¡± Isolde said, stepping over the broken ss. ¡°Tell him he missed his chance to sign the easy way. Now we do it the hard way.¡± She hadn¡¯t found her thesis. But she had found something else. As she walked out of the apartment, leaving Belle screaming in the wreckage of the bedroom, a cold rity settled over her. No more negotiations. No more quiet exits. It was time for war. Isolde sat in her car, her hands gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She took a slow breath, drawing in the scent of old leather and freedom. She picked up her phone and dialed. . . . Chapter 87 Chapter 87: ¡°And,¡± she said the moment he answered. ¡°I need awyer. Not a family friend. Not a mediator. I need a shark. Someone who eats Lancasters for lunch.¡± And didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I know a guy. Arthur Stone. He¡¯s expensive, he¡¯s mean, and he¡¯s had a grudge against Grayson¡¯s father since a golf course incident in the nies. I¡¯ll text you the address.¡± Two hourster, Isolde sat in a corner office in Midtown. The view was of brick walls and fire escapes ¡ª a workingwyer¡¯s office, not a showman¡¯s. Arthur Stone was a small man with a bald head and spectacles that magnified his eyes, making him look like a predatory owl. He listened to Isolde¡¯s ount without interrupting, tapping a gold pen steadily against his legal pad. ¡°He shredded the papers,¡± Stone repeated, studying the photograph Isolde had taken of the wastebasket. ¡°And the mistress is living in the marital home?¡± ??????i??e co??mu?????y ??n ??a??n??v?????.????m ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And the child? The burn?¡± ¡°Documented. Emergency room records. Photos.¡± Stone smiled. It wasn¡¯t a warm smile. It was a smile full of teeth. ¡°Ms. Carson,¡± he said, using her maiden name. ¡°Adultery is difficult to leverage as a primary cause for financial damages in New York these days, but ¡®Cruel and Inhuman Treatment¡¯? That we have in abundance. And the child endangerment ¡ª that¡¯s the nuclear button.¡± ¡°I want full custody,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And I want my dissertation back. It¡¯s listed as missing property.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll add it to the discovery,¡± Stone said. ¡°If she sold it, she pays. If she lost it, she pays double.¡± Isolde¡¯s phone rang. It was Grayson¡¯s executive assistant ¡ª a visibly frightened young woman named Sarah. Isolde put it on speaker. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster?¡± Sarah¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°Mr. Lancaster asked me to convey a message. He says¡­ he says tomorrow is The Institute G. He demands you attend. On his arm.¡± Isolde let out a dry, humorlessugh. ¡°He¡¯s aware I now work for his directpetitor?¡± ¡°He said¡­¡± Sarah hesitated. ¡°He said if you don¡¯t appear, he will use his position on the board of governors at Lenox Hill to block Dr. Alistair Finch from treating Effie. He knows he¡¯s the only pediatric burn specialist you trust.¡± The room went cold. Stone reached across the desk. ¡°Give me the phone.¡± Isolde handed it over. ¡°This is Arthur Stone, Attorney at Law,¡± he said, his voice sharp and measured. ¡°You tell your employer that extortion is a felony. Tell him that if he makes a single phone call to interfere with that child¡¯s medical care, I will have a judge sign an emergency restraining order so fast his head will spin. And I will personally sue him for intentional infliction of emotional distress. Do you understand?¡± A sharp intake of breath on the other end. ¡°I will tell him.¡± ¡°Good. Hang up.¡± Stone handed the phone back. ¡°He¡¯s desperate. He needs to show the world he can still control you. SkyLine¡¯s stock is wobbly.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Oh, you are going,¡± Stone corrected her. ¡°But not as his prop. You¡¯re going to go, and you¡¯re going to shine so bright you burn his retinas.¡± . . . Chapter 88 Chapter 88: Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed. A text from And. Professor Nelson is the keynote speaker tomorrow. He¡¯s asking about the ¡®mystery engineer¡¯ who fixed my turbine specs. This is your chance. Isolde looked at Stone, then at the message. ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± That night, in the Tribeca apartment, Isolde stood before the mirror. She didn¡¯t choose ck. ck was for mourning. She chose red. A crimson gown, structured and sharp, with a neckline that plunged just enough to be dangerous. It was the color of blood, of warning signs, of fire. ???????????????? ???????????? ???????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? Effie sat on the bed, clutching her teddy bear. ¡°Mommy, you look like a superhero.¡± Isolde applied a coat of lipstick that matched the dress precisely. ¡°I am, baby,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m going to fight the bad guys.¡± The Institute G was the event of the season for the aerospace industry. It was held at the Met, the Temple of Dendur bathed in soft blue light. Waiters circted with champagne flutes, and the air buzzed with talk of government contracts and propulsion systems. Grayson stood near the entrance, checking his watch. He looked impable in a tuxedo, but his eyes darted nervously around the room. Belle stood beside him in a pale blue dress that looked suspiciously simr to one Isolde had worn two years prior. She was smiling, but her grip on Grayson¡¯s arm was w-like. Daron McKnight held court nearby with a cluster of junior investors,ughing too loudly. ¡°She¡¯s noting,¡± Belle whispered. ¡°She knows she doesn¡¯t belong here.¡± ¡°She¡¯lle,¡± Grayson muttered. ¡°She has to.¡± Then the room went quiet. A ripple of silence started at the doors and spread inward. Isolde walked in. She wasn¡¯t alone. She was on the arm of And Roth. The red dress was a shock to the system in a sea of ck ties and navy gowns. She moved with a fluid, predatory grace, her hair swept back to reveal her neck and shoulders. She looked regal. Untouchable. Cameras shed. Grayson felt his breath catch. He had never seen her like this. In his mind, she was soft, pliable, fading into the background. This woman was vivid. Belle made a small, strangled sound. ¡°Why is she with him?¡± Isolde and And walked straight toward them ¡ª not to greet them, but because they were blocking the path to the main hall. ¡°Isolde.¡± Grayson stepped forward, producing his best CEO smile. ¡°You made it. You look¡­¡± ¡°Expensive?¡± Isolde finished for him. ¡°I know.¡± She didn¡¯t stop. She moved to walk past him. Grayson grabbed her elbow. ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going? Our table is this way.¡± Isolde looked at his hand until he released her. ¡°I¡¯m not sitting at your table, Grayson. I¡¯m here with Orbital. As their Chief Engineer.¡± Daron snorted into his drink. ¡°Chief Engineer? That¡¯s a good one. Last I checked, your degree was in event nning. Are you going to re-engineer the canap¨¦s?¡± A few people nearby chuckled nervously. . . . Chapter 89 Chapter 89: Isolde turned to Daron. Her expression didn¡¯t change. It was simply bored. ¡°Hello, Daron. Still riding Grayson¡¯s coattails? Careful ¡ª the fabric is getting thin.¡± Daron flushed. ¡°At least my credentials are real. You¡¯re a mechanic who married up. And now that you¡¯re divorced, you¡¯re what? Sleeping with thepetition for a pity title?¡± The insult hung in the air, gross and heavy. Isolde looked at Grayson. ¡°Are you going to let your employee speak to me like that?¡± ???? ?????? ?????????? ???? ???????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? Grayson straightened his cuffs. He looked annoyed ¡ª though not at Daron. ¡°He¡¯s just stressed, Isolde. Don¡¯t be so sensitive. Besides, this ¡®Chief Engineer¡¯ title ¡ª it is a bit of a joke, isn¡¯t it? You shouldn¡¯t parade your little hobby in front of serious people. It¡¯s embarrassing.¡± A ringing filled Isolde¡¯s ears. Not the noise of the party. The sound of her own blood pressure spiking. ¡°A hobby,¡± she repeated. ¡°Come on,¡± Grayson said, gesturing toward the hall. ¡°Go sit down. Try not to break anything.¡± Isolde looked at him. Really looked at him. And she realized, with absolute certainty, that there was nothing left. Not even a memory worth salvaging. ¡°I¡¯m not the one who¡¯s going to break something,¡± she said quietly. And stepped forward, his expression hardening. ¡°Lancaster, control your associate before I do.¡± ¡°Stay out of this, Roth,¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°This is family business.¡± ¡°Not anymore,¡± Isolde said. She turned and walked away, her red dress trailing behind her like a me. The cocktail hour was in full swing. Isolde stood near a disy of a turbine engine, sipping sparkling water. Her hand trembled slightly ¡ª not from fear, but from the adrenaline of restraint. Daron, emboldened by Grayson¡¯s defense and one too many drinks, drifted over. ¡°So,¡± Daron slurred, leaning too close. ¡°How much is Roth paying you? Or is it a trade? Services rendered?¡± His gaze moved over her slowly, deliberately. ¡°You know,¡± he continued, ¡°Grayson always said you were frigid. Maybe you just needed a better¡­ incentive.¡± Isolde set her water down on the high-top table beside her. ¡°Daron,¡± she said calmly. ¡°Walk away.¡± ¡°Or what?¡± Daron sneered. ¡°You¡¯ll cry? You¡¯ll call your mommy? Oh wait ¡ª herpany is bankrupt, isn¡¯t it?¡± That was it. The line. Isolde reached out and lifted a ss of red wine from a passing waiter¡¯s tray. She didn¡¯t hesitate. She didn¡¯t think. She threw the contents directly into Daron¡¯s face. The dark liquid sshed across his eyes and nose, dripping down onto his white shirt and silk tie. Daron gasped, sputtering and blinking. ¡°You¡ª¡± He lunged at her, his hand rising as if to strike. Isolde didn¡¯t step back. She stood her ground. As his hand came toward her, she spoke ¡ª not loudly, but with a precision that cut through the sudden hush around them like a de. ¡°Touch me, Daron,¡± she said, her eyes t and cold, ¡°and I will ask General Miller over there why SkyLine¡¯s bid for the NGAD contract used apressor design that is a direct patent infringement of a GE model from 2018. I have the schematics. On my phone. Right now.¡± . . . Chapter 90 Chapter 90: The sound of indrawn breath moved through the crowd like a current. Conversations stopped. The music seemed to fade. Daron froze mid-lunge, hand suspended in the air. He stared at her face and saw her eyes ¡ª utterly still, the eyes of someone who had nothing left to lose and everything to gain. Grayson pushed through the crowd. ¡°Isolde! What the hell are you doing?¡± ¡°Defending myself,¡± Isolde said, without looking away from Daron. ¡°Since my husband won¡¯t.¡± ???????o??e?? ?????? s??o??????s ???? ????????o???????.§ão?? ¡°Security!¡± Grayson shouted. ¡°Get her out of here! She¡¯s drunk! She¡¯s out of her mind!¡± Tworge guards began moving toward her. And stepped directly into their path. ¡°Touch her and you¡¯ll be answering to me.¡± Isolde lifted a silk napkin from the table and delicately wiped an imaginary speck of wine from her hand. ¡°Grayson,¡± she said, her voice ringing clear across the room. ¡°Your associate insulted my honor. I simply corrected him.¡± ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± Grayson hissed, his face drained of color. ¡°You¡¯ve ruined the entire evening.¡± ¡°No,¡± a deep, gravelly voice called from the entrance to the hall. ¡°She just made it interesting.¡± The crowd parted. An old man with wild white hair and a cane walked forward. He wore a tuxedo that was twenty years out of fashion, but he carried it like a king. Professor Eldridge Nelson. The god of aerospace engineering. Professor Nelson stopped in front of the group. He looked at Daron, dripping with wine. He looked at Isolde¡¯s unshaking hands. Then he looked at Isolde. Grayson immediately switched into damage control mode. He smoothed his jacket and forced a smile. ¡°Professor Nelson! I am so sorry you had to witness this. My ex-wife is having a breakdown. Very tragic. We were just escorting her out.¡± Daron wiped wine from his eyes. ¡°Yeah, she attacked me! She¡¯spletely unhinged!¡± Nelson ignored them both. He tapped his cane once on the floor. ¡°Breakdown?¡± Nelson mused, studying Isolde. ¡°Herposure was perfect. Her argument precise. That wasn¡¯t a breakdown, Mr. Lancaster. That was a tactical response.¡± Grayson blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°You remember her?¡± Grayson asked, bewildered. ¡°From where? The PTA?¡± Nelson let out a bark ofughter. ¡°The PTA? Boy, this woman was the brightest student ever to walk through the doors of The Institute. Until she dropped out to marry¡­¡± He looked at Grayson with undisguised disappointment. ¡°Well, to marry a suit.¡± Belle pushed forward, sensing the spotlight shifting. ¡°Professor, I¡¯m Belle Escobar. I¡¯m taking over the Phoenix project at SkyLine. I¡¯d love to get your thoughts on the aerodynamic stability of the¡ª¡± Nelson cut her off with a wave of his hand. ¡°Phoenix? You mean the X7 prototype?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Belle beamed. ¡°My design.¡± ¡°Your design,¡± Nelson repeated dryly. ¡°Tell me, Ms. Escobar ¡ª how did you solve the thermal expansion issue on the intake manifold at Mach 2?¡± Belle froze. ¡°The¡­ thermal¡­ well, we used a special alloy.¡± ¡°Which one?¡± Nelson pressed. ¡°Titanium? Inconel? Or did you simply paint it silver and hope for the best?¡± Belle stammered. ¡°The engineering team handles the specifics.¡± . . . Chapter 91 Chapter 91: ¡°Exactly,¡± Nelson said. ¡°You don¡¯t know. Because you didn¡¯t build it.¡± He turned his back on her entirely. ¡°I don¡¯t waste time with pretenders.¡± He offered his arm to Isolde. ¡°Ms. Carson. I believe there is a bottle of 1964 Scotch in the VIP lounge. And I have some questions about a certain variable-cycle engine patent that bears a striking resemnce to your handwriting.¡± Isolde took his arm. She looked at Grayson. His mouth hung open, his face a mask of shock and confusion. ¡°Goodbye, Grayson,¡± she said. She walked away with the Professor, leaving the Lancasters standing in the wreckage of their own arrogance. ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Daron whispered, still dabbing at his face. ¡°He said she was a student at The Institute.¡± Grayson stared at her retreating figure ¡ª the red dress, the patent threat, the Professor¡¯s recognition. The pieces were clicking into ce. And the picture they formed terrified him. The VIP lounge was quiet, insted from the noise of the g by thick velvet curtains. Y?????? ??ai???? ????s?? o?? ??§à??§Ö???? ???? ??????????v??????.§ão?? Professor Nelson poured two sses of amber liquid and handed one to Isolde. ¡°Sophia,¡± he said softly. Isolde flinched. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard that name in a long time.¡± ¡°It was a good name,¡± Nelson said. ¡°A ghost name. The name on the papers you submitted anonymously because you were afraid your family ¡ª or your husband ¡ª would find out.¡± ¡°I wanted to protect them,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I thought if I was just a wife, just a mother¡­ it would be enough.¡± ¡°And was it?¡± Isolde looked into the scotch. ¡°No. It was killing me. Almost finished the job.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Nelson raised his ss. ¡°You look very much alive to me tonight. That move with the patent usation? Very kic.¡± ¡°I was angry,¡± Isolde admitted. ¡°Good. Anger is fuel. Use it.¡± Nelson leaned forward. ¡°I need you back, Isolde. The Institute is stuck. We have a contract for a Mars habitat and the life support systems are failing ¡ª the math simply doesn¡¯t work. But I saw your ISSDC submission. The honeb structure. It¡¯s brilliant.¡± ¡°You saw that?¡± ¡°I see everything. I want you to lead the team. Not as a student. As a Fellow.¡± Isolde¡¯s heart soared. ¡°Professor¡­ I¡¯m with Orbital now.¡± ¡°I know. And and I have already discussed it. A joint venture. You bridge the gap.¡± The door to the lounge burst open. Grayson stood there, disheveled, having pushed past the security guard at the entrance. ¡°Isolde,¡± he gasped. ¡°We need to talk.¡± Nelson rose slowly from his chair. ¡°Mr. Lancaster. You are trespassing.¡± ¡°I need to speak to my wife,¡± Grayson said, moving toward them. ¡°Professor, with all due respect, you have been misinformed. She isn¡¯t an engineer. She¡¯s a¡ª¡± ¡°She is Sophia,¡± Nelson said, his voice filling the room. Grayson stopped dead. He stumbled back a step, his face draining of all color. Thest, desperate fragment of denial evaporated from his mind, reced by a cold, gut-wrenching certainty. It wasn¡¯t a suspicion anymore. It was a fact. ¡°What?¡± . . . Chapter 92 Chapter 92: ¡°The anonymous designer of the X7. The author of the papers on hypersonic fluid dynamics. The ¡®Sophia¡¯ you have been trying to headhunt for three weeks.¡± Nelson¡¯s expression was one of undisguised contempt. ¡°She has been sleeping in your bed for five years, you idiot.¡± Grayson looked at Isolde as though he were seeing a stranger. ¡°You?¡± he whispered. The word was saturated with dawning dread. ¡°It was you all along?¡± Isolde stood. She didn¡¯t shrink. She grew. ¡°Yes, Grayson. It was.¡± ¡°But¡­ the Phoenix¡­¡± Grayson stammered. ¡°The patent¡­¡± ¡°Is mine,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And since I designed it before we were married and filed it under a pseudonym you never thought to ask about, it is separate property.¡± Grayson¡¯s face went white. He was no longer looking at his wife. He was watching billions of dors in intellectual property slip through his fingers. ¡°We can work something out,¡± Grayson said, his voice shifting instantly ¡ª smooth, desperate, transactional. ¡°Isolde, baby. We¡¯re a team. Think of what we could do together. SkyLine and your designs¡­¡± ????§Ö m§à??t §â§à§â?r ??????????? ???? ????l??????§Ö????.§ã§à?? ¡°Get out,¡± Nelson said. ¡°Isolde, please¡ª¡± Grayson reached for her. ¡°Get. Out.¡± Nelson leveled his cane at the door. ¡°Or I will have you removed from every government contract list in Washington by morning.¡± Grayson looked at the old man and knew he wasn¡¯t bluffing. He looked at Isolde onest time ¡ª a collision of greed and horror in his expression. Then he turned and walked out. Isolde sank back onto the sofa. Her hands were trembling. ¡°He knows,¡± she whispered. ¡°Good,¡± Nelson said. ¡°Now he knows who he¡¯s fighting.¡± Outside the door, Grayson leaned against the wall. He pulled out his phone, his hands unsteady. He typed into the search bar: Sophia Engineer Patent Value. The results loaded. Estimated value: $500 million ¡ª $1 billion. Grayson lowered the phone. He felt physically ill. He had treated a billion-dor asset like a maid. The g ended. Isolde walked out to the valet stand with And, feeling drained but carrying her head high. Grayson¡¯s Maybach was already pulled up to the curb. He was waiting. Belle sat in the passenger seat, looking sulky. When Grayson saw Isolde, he opened his door and stepped out. ¡°Isolde,¡± he called. And moved to step between them. ¡°She¡¯s done talking to you, Lancaster.¡± ¡°I¡¯m talking to my wife,¡± Grayson said, pushing past him. He stopped directly in front of Isolde. His eyes were different now. The contempt was gone, reced by a hungry, calcting intensity. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± he asked. ¡°Why hide it?¡± ¡°Would you have listened?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°Or would you have simply taken it? Like you took everything else?¡± ¡°I would have built you a pedestal,¡± Grayson said, his voice urgent. ¡°We could have ruled the industry together.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t want a pedestal, Grayson. I wanted a partner. I wanted a husband who cared that our daughter was burned.¡± Grayson lowered his voice. ¡°Isolde, I¡¯m instructing mywyers to file a motion to pause the divorce.¡± Isoldeughed ¡ª a sharp, incredulous sound. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Citing potential for reconciliation. We need to re-evaluate. For Effie. For the family.¡± ¡°For the patent,¡± Isolde corrected. ¡°You want the IP.¡± ¡°I want us,¡± Grayson said. He reached for her hand. . . . Chapter 93 Chapter 93: Belle rolled down the window. ¡°Gray! What are you doing? Let¡¯s go!¡± Grayson didn¡¯t look at her. ¡°Quiet, Belle.¡± Isolde pulled her hand away. ¡°You can file whatever motion you like, Grayson. But I am gone. And Sophia? She works for the highest bidder. And that isn¡¯t you.¡± She got into And¡¯s car. ¡°Drive,¡± she said. As they pulled away, Isolde watched Grayson in the rearview mirror. He stood on the curb, watching her go ¡ª a man who had just realized he¡¯d thrown away a winning lottery ticket. ¡°He¡¯s going toe after you,¡± And said quietly. ¡°Harder than before.¡± ????????????i??§Ö ?????????e?? o?? ??a??????????????.c§à?? ¡°I know,¡± Isolde said. ¡°He wants the money.¡± ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Isolde watched the city lights blur past the window. ¡°I¡¯m going to make sure that by the time he gets to court,¡± she said, ¡°there¡¯s nothing left of SkyLine for him to save.¡± She pulled out her phone and texted Stone. He knows about Sophia. He wants to reconcile to get the IP. Proceed with the nuclear option. Stone replied instantly. Understood. Filing for emergency asset freeze tomorrow. And Isolde? Yes? Happy hunting. The air on the terrace of Le Bernardin was crisp, carrying the faint, salty tang of the Hudson River mixed with the expensive perfumes of New York¡¯s elite. Inside, the celebration for Orbital Systems¡¯test government contract win was in full swing ¡ª a cacophony of crystal clinking and politeughter. And Roth stood near the limestone railing, his back to the party. He held a ss of club soda with a slice of lime, the condensation cold against his fingertips. He wasn¡¯t antisocial, but he had a low tolerance for sycophants, and tonight the room was full of them. ¡°Mr. Roth,¡± a voice purred from behind him. ¡°All alone? The view is certainly¡­ inspiring.¡± And didn¡¯t need to turn around. The scent of Midnight Rose ¡ª heavy, floral, and cloying ¡ª announced Belle Escobar long before she stepped into his peripheral vision. He turned slowly. Belle was standing too close, wearing a silver dress cut low enough to be a conversation starter. She held two flutes of champagne, her smile practiced and predatory. ¡°Ms. Escobar,¡± And said, his voice t. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for a partner.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so serious.¡± Belle stepped into his personal space and extended one of the sses toward him. ¡°I heard Orbital is looking for a new Director of Public Rtions. I think I¡¯d be a perfect fit. SkyLine is¡­ limiting my potential.¡± She leaned forward, resting a hand on the railing, her posture carefully arranged. It was a move she had used on Grayson a hundred times. She assumed it was a universal key. And didn¡¯t take the ss. He looked at her, then at the champagne, then back to her face. His expression wasn¡¯t one of desire ¡ª it was the look a scientist might give a petri dish that had grown something unexpected. ¡°Orbital hires professionals, Ms. Escobar,¡± And said, his tone conversational but precise. ¡°Not social climbers.¡± . . . Chapter 94 Chapter 94: Belle¡¯s smile faltered, the edges twitching. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°And besides,¡± And continued, taking a sip of his soda, ¡°I have no interest in acquiring SkyLine¡¯s failed assets. That applies to personnel as much as it does to projects.¡± The implication hung in the air, heavy and absolute. He wasn¡¯t talking about the ss. Belle¡¯s face flushed a deep, blotchy red. Her hand trembled, and champagne sloshed over the rim of the flute, sshing onto her silver shoes. ¡°You¡­¡± She choked on the word. ¡°Careful,¡± And said, turning back to the river. ¡°You¡¯re making a mess.¡± Belle spun on her heel and stormed back into the restaurant, her humiliation radiating off her like heat. Isolde walked onto the terrace a momentter, wearing a simple ck jumpsuit that made her look like a shadow against the city lights. She watched Belle retreat, noting the rigid set of her shoulders. ¡°What did you do to her?¡± Isolde asked, settling against the railing beside him. ¡°Just helped her calibrate her self-perception,¡± And said. ¡°She was operating on faulty data.¡± Join thousands of fans on Isolde chuckled, but the sound was cut short by a vibration against her thigh. She pulled her phone from her clutch. The screen lit up with the name she had assigned him: Target. Three missed calls in thest minute. Isolde frowned and answered. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Where are you?¡± Grayson¡¯s voice was jagged, breathless with frustration. ¡°You need toe back. Now.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t live there anymore, Grayson. We¡¯ve been over this.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Kaiden,¡± Grayson shouted, the sound distorting over the line. ¡°He¡¯s sick. He has a fever. He¡¯s screaming for you. He won¡¯t let Belle touch him, he won¡¯t let the nanny near him. He¡¯s throwing things.¡± A phantom tug pulled at Isolde¡¯s chest. For five years, that cry had been hermand. Kaiden sick meant Isolde didn¡¯t sleep. Kaiden crying meant she dropped everything. But then she remembered the park. Effie shoved into the mud. The word that had almost detonated in the school courtyard. ¡°Where is Belle?¡± Isolde asked, her voice cool. ¡°Belle is at a work dinner! She can¡¯t leave!¡± Grayson lied. Isolde nced back through the ss into the restaurant, where Belle was busy charming a senator. A cold amusement settled in her gut. ¡°A work dinner?¡± Isolde replied, her voice dangerously pleasant. ¡°Yes, I can see her now. She¡¯s working the room very hard in that silver dress. Tell me, Grayson ¡ª is attempting to sit in my boss¡¯sp considered bible hours at SkyLine these days?¡± ¡°What are you talking about? You¡¯re the only one he wants! Stop being selfish and get over here!¡± ¡°Selfish?¡± Isolde looked out at the city skyline ¡ª at the freedom she had wed back inch by inch. ¡°I have a job, Grayson. I am at a business function. I am busy.¡± ¡°If you don¡¯te home right now to take care of my son,¡± Grayson growled, his voice dropping low, ¡°I will freeze every secondary credit card you have. You won¡¯t be able to buy a pack of gum.¡± . . . Chapter 95 Chapter 95: Isolde let out a short, dryugh. ¡°You already did that, Grayson. Remember? Whole Foods? You tried to starve us out.¡± Silence on the line. He had forgotten. Or he had simply assumed she was still suffering. ¡°I don¡¯t need your cards,¡± Isolde said, her grip on the phone tightening. ¡°And I am not your nanny. Take him to a doctor, or tell his biological mother to stop drinking champagne and go hold him. Do not call me again.¡± She ended the call. Her thumb hovered over the block button. She didn¡¯t press it ¡ª not yet. She needed the record of his harassment for Stone. ¡°Everything okay?¡± And asked. ??????o????e???? ???????§à???????.§ã???? ??o ????ur f????§Ön???? ¡°Grayson,¡± Isolde said, dropping the phone back into her bag. ¡°He thinks he can still summon me.¡± ¡°And?¡± Isolde lifted a ss of wine from a passing waiter¡¯s tray and held it up to the light, the red liquid swirling slowly. ¡°And he¡¯s realizing the remote control is broken.¡± She clinked her ss against And¡¯s soda. ¡°To freedom.¡± The next morning, Isolde stood in line at a bustling Blue Bottle Coffee near Wall Street, checking her watch. She had a meeting with Arthur Stone in twenty minutes to finalize the filing for the emergency asset freeze. She wore a sharp navy zer and matching trousers, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She looked like a woman who billed by the hour. ¡°Two almond milkttes, extra hot,¡± a voice ordered at the counter. Isolde went still. The voice was familiar. Too familiar. She looked up. Belle was at the register, wearing oversized sunsses indoors and a white sundress that looked far too youthful for the financial district. Grayson stood beside her, typing furiously on his phone, looking agitated. They must have juste from a meeting with their ownwyers. Belle turned and saw Isolde. A slow, malicious smile spread across her face. She tapped Grayson¡¯s arm. ¡°Look, Gray,¡± Belle said, loudly enough to carry. ¡°It¡¯s the exile.¡± Grayson looked up. His eyes narrowed. He looked tired, his tie slightly askew ¡ª the chaos of the Penthouse was wearing on him. ¡°Isolde,¡± Grayson said, his tone clipped. ¡°Stalking us?¡± ¡°I have a meeting,¡± Isolde said, stepping forward to collect her ck coffee from the counter. ¡°Unlike you, I don¡¯t have time to loiter.¡± She turned to leave, but Belle stepped into her path, blocking the narrow aisle between the tables. ¡°I like the suit,¡± Belle said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. ¡°Very corporate drone. Is that what And has you doing? Filing paperwork?¡± Isolde didn¡¯t back down. She stepped closer, moving into Belle¡¯s personal space. And then it hit her. A scent. Not just the coffee. Something specific ¡ª musky, warm. Sandalwood and cedar. Grayson¡¯s custom blend from London. But it wasn¡¯ting from Grayson. It wasing from Belle. Clinging to her hair, soaked into the fabric of her dress. It was the smell of intimacy. Of a long embrace, or a shared bed. A wave of nausea moved through Isolde¡¯s stomach. Not jealousy. Something more visceral ¡ª a biological revulsion. The smell of contamination. . . . Chapter 96 Chapter 96: ¡°You smell like him,¡± Isolde said, her voice low and precise. Belle blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°You smell like his cologne,¡± Isolde said, her nose wrinkling. ¡°It¡¯s soaked into you. It¡¯s disgusting.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s Chanel,¡± Belle stammered, touching her neck self-consciously. ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°It¡¯s the smell of a shadow trying to be a person. It¡¯s the smell of rot.¡± Grayson stepped forward, his face darkening. ¡°Watch your mouth, Isolde. Belle is ady.¡± R??§Ñ?? ????????????t ????????????u§ât??§à???? o? ????l??o???????.??§à?? Isolde turned her gaze to him. ¡°Ady? She¡¯s Cheryl Juarez¡¯s daughter. She learned from the best, didn¡¯t she?¡± The air in the coffee shop seemed to vanish. Belle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. ¡°Your mother spent thirty years waiting in hotel rooms for another woman¡¯s husband,¡± Isolde said, her voice cutting like a scalpel. ¡°She could never wait for a ring. And now here you are ¡ª wearing another woman¡¯s husband like a trophy. It¡¯s gic, isn¡¯t it? The inability to stand on your own two feet.¡± ¡°Shut up!¡± Belle shrieked, herposure shattering. ¡°I have two PhDs! I am an executive!¡± ¡°You are a thief,¡± Isolde corrected. ¡°You steal designs. You steal husbands. You steal lives because yours is empty.¡± Grayson¡¯s hand shot up. It was a reflex ¡ª a sh of violence born of humiliation. His palm rose as if to strike her. Isolde didn¡¯t flinch. She didn¡¯t blink. She tilted her chin up, exposing her throat, daring him. ¡°Do it,¡± she whispered. ¡°There are three cameras in this shop. Hit me. Give Arthur Stone the ammunition he needs to put you in prison.¡± Grayson¡¯s hand froze in mid-air. His chest heaved. He looked around. People were watching. Phones were raised. He lowered his hand slowly, his fingers curling into a fist. ¡°You¡¯ve changed,¡± Grayson hissed. ¡°You used to be soft. You used to be kind.¡± ¡°You killed her,¡± Isolde said. ¡°The kind Isolde is dead. You buried her.¡± She stepped around Belle, deliberately bumping her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble. ¡°Enjoy the coffee,¡± Isolde said over her shoulder. ¡°I hope it burns.¡± She walked out onto the street and dropped her full cup into the nearest trash can. She couldn¡¯t drink it. The taste in her mouth was already too bitter. By three o¡¯clock that afternoon, Isolde¡¯s body had begun to fail her. She had been at the Orbitalb since the meeting with Stone, poring over schematics for the new thruster assembly. She hadn¡¯t eaten lunch. The adrenaline from the morning¡¯s confrontation had burned away, leaving her hollow and shaking. She stood up from her desk, grabbing a roll of blueprints. The room tilted. ck spots danced at the edges of her vision. Her knees felt like water. Hypoglycemia, her brain registered, clinical even now. Stress response. She stumbled into the hallway and leaned heavily against the ss wall. She needed sugar. She needed to sit down. The elevator at the end of the corridor chimed open. . . . Chapter 97 Chapter 97: Grayson stepped out, nked by Daron McKnight and a team ofwyers. They were there for the patent infringement negotiation regarding the turbine specifications. Isolde tried to straighten up. She couldn¡¯t let them see her like this. But the floor seemed to rush upward to meet her. Her vision grayed. The blueprints slipped from her numb fingers and unrolled across the polished concrete with a long, papery hiss. She swayed, her eyes rolling back. ¡°Isolde!¡± And¡¯s voice. He burst from his office just as her legs gave way, his arm sweeping under her shoulders and pulling her against his chest, catching her inches from the ground. ¡°Isolde? Hey, look at me.¡± His voice was tight with panic. He pressed a hand to her cheek. Her skin was cold and mmy. ??????? ??§à???? ??a????????t§Ö ??o????l? ???? ????????§à????????.?????? Isolde¡¯s head fell back against his arm. She was conscious, but barely. The world had be a blur of fluorescent light and muffled sound. Grayson stopped ten feet away. He stared at his ex-wife in another man¡¯s arms. His first instinct was to step forward. But Daron grabbed his elbow. ¡°Look at that,¡± Daron muttered, low and contemptuous. ¡°Right on cue. We show up to talk money and she faints. She¡¯s trying to dy the negotiation. Don¡¯t fall for it.¡± Grayson hesitated. He studied Isolde¡¯s pale face. He didn¡¯t see a fragile woman ¡ª he saw Sophia, the billion-dor engineer, deploying her body as a tactical weapon. He thought of Belle¡¯s well-timed fainting spells, the ones that always seemed to ur in jewelry stores. Years of conditioning had taught him to read feminine fragility as currency, and now he saw Isolde spending it with the precision of a master strategist. ¡°Isolde,¡± Grayson said, his voice cold andmanding. ¡°Enough with the theatrics. If you¡¯re trying to avoid this meeting, just say so. Don¡¯t waste our time.¡± Isolde heard him. His voice came as if from underwater. Theatrics. He thought she was performing ¡ª not as a hysterical woman, but as a cunning opponent. And looked up, his eyes zing with a fury that could have melted steel. ¡°Get away from her,¡± And said. ¡°She¡¯s cold. She¡¯s shaking.¡± ¡°She¡¯s a brilliant engineer, Roth,¡± Daron said. ¡°She knows exactly what she¡¯s doing. Don¡¯t be a fool.¡± And didn¡¯t waste words. He lifted Isolde into his arms and stood. He turned his back on the SkyLine team. ¡°Meeting cancelled,¡± And said over his shoulder. ¡°Get out of my building.¡± He walked toward the elevators, stepping past Grayson without a nce. As he passed, Grayson looked down at Isolde¡¯s hand, dangling limply. It looked fragile. Too thin. For a moment, doubt pierced through the conditioning. Her pallor seemed too genuine, her weakness too profound to be manufactured. She didn¡¯t look like she was acting. She looked broken. ¡°Grayson,¡± Daron urged. ¡°We have thewyers here. We can¡¯t leave.¡± ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± Grayson said, pushing the doubt back down. ¡°She¡¯s tough. She¡¯s just ying games.¡± But as the elevator doors closed on And¡¯s terrified face, a knot formed in Grayson¡¯s stomach and refused to leave. . . . Chapter 98 Chapter 98: Inside the elevator, And was fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out a small chocte bar he kept for emergencies and broke off a piece. ¡°Isolde,¡± he whispered. ¡°Eat. Just a little.¡± He pressed the chocte to her lips. Isolde swallowed weakly. The sugar reached her system. Her eyes fluttered open. ¡°Did they see?¡± she whispered, her voice a rasp. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± And said, holding her tighter. ¡°I¡¯ve got you.¡± ¡°He thought I was faking,¡± she murmured. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. ¡°He always thinks I¡¯m faking.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a fool,¡± And said. ¡°And he¡¯s going to pay for every second of this.¡± Isolde was back at her desk the next morning at eight o¡¯clock. And had wanted her to stay home, but she refused. Work was the only thing she could control. She was cutting through a neutral office park in Midtown ¡ª a sharedmercial space where various techpanies held meetings ¡ª on her way to a crosspany symposium on aerospace materials. Neutral ground, but not safe ground. ??????????§à????a?????? PD???? §à?? ga????§à??el??.c??m A sh of light caught her eye. Near arge abstract sculpture in the center of the za, a camera crew was setting up. Standing in the middle of the lights was Belle. Belle was giving an interview to TechCrunch. She was posed with one hand on her hip, smiling brilliantly. She was wearing a dress. Isolde stopped. Her breath caught. It was a vintage emerald green velvet dress. Custom made in Mn. Isolde had bought it for her fifth wedding anniversary. She had never worn it ¡ª because Grayson hadn¡¯te home that night. A memory, sharp and unwanted, cut through her: the feel of velvet under her fingers in the boutique, the quiet hope she¡¯d carried, the slow heartbreak of spending the evening alone with the dress hanging in its sheath like a ghost. Now that ghost was being worn by the woman who had haunted her marriage. It had been hanging in the back of the closet in the Penthouse. Belle was wearing her anniversary dress. Isolde walked toward her. She didn¡¯t run. She moved with the steady, terrifying calm of a predator. Belle saw hering and smirked, turning slightly to show the dress off to the camera. ¡°And here at SkyLine,¡± Belle was saying into the microphone, ¡°we believe in sustainable fashion. Vintage is the new modern.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not vintage,¡± Isolde said, stepping into the frame. ¡°That¡¯s stolen property.¡± The interviewer looked confused. ¡°Cut. Sorry ¡ª who is this?¡± ¡°Isolde,¡± Belle said, her smile tightening. ¡°So nice of you to stop by. I was just telling them how I repurposed this old thing. It was gathering dust.¡± Isolde looked Belle up and down. Not at her face. At her waist. ¡°You know,¡± Isolde said, loud enough for the crew to hear, ¡°I remember the fitting for that dress. The tailor in Mn was very specific about it. Twenty-four-inch waist. No stretch. Silk lining.¡± Belle shifted ufortably. ¡°It fits perfectly.¡± ¡°Does it?¡± Isolde pointed to the side seam, just under Belle¡¯s arm. . . . Chapter 99 Chapter 99: The velvet was strained to the breaking point. The stitching was visible ¡ª white threads pulling against dark green fabric. The zipper was warped, creating a lumpy ridge along Belle¡¯s side. ¡°You¡¯re a size twenty-six, Belle,¡± Isolde said, her voice clinical. ¡°Perhaps a twenty-eight in Italian cuts. You¡¯ve forced yourself into a container that was never built for you.¡± Belle¡¯s face went scarlet. She moved her hand to cover the seam, but the motion only made the fabric groan audibly. ¡°It¡¯s just the angle,¡± Belle hissed. ¡°It¡¯s a metaphor,¡± Isolde said, meeting her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re wearing my clothes. You¡¯re living in my house. You¡¯re sleeping with my husband. But none of it fits, does it? You¡¯re bursting at the seams, trying to be me.¡± The cameraman snickered. ¡°Take it off,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Before you ruin the silk. Although, knowing you, you¡¯ve probably already sweated through the lining.¡± Belle let out a strangled cry of fury and turned toward the building entrance, one hand mped over her side. She looked ridiculous ¡ª hobbling in shoes she couldn¡¯t walk in, in a dress that was slowly strangling her. Isolde watched her go. Join themunity at ¡°Ms. Carson?¡± Isolde turned. It was ire, a senior engineer at Orbital who had been openly skeptical of Isolde¡¯s hiring. She was carrying a thick stack of files. ¡°Show¡¯s over,¡± ire said, dropping the files onto a nearby table. ¡°If you¡¯re done ying fashion police, we have a problem. The orbital decay parameters for the satellite project are off. We need a recalction. By tonight.¡± Isolde looked at the stack. It was a week¡¯s worth of mathematics. ¡°Tonight?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°Unless you¡¯re too busy being a celebrity ex-wife,¡± ire challenged. Isolde picked up the top file and scanned the numbers. Her brain shifted gears instantly. ¡°I¡¯ll have it done by lunch,¡± Isolde said. ire rolled her eyes. ¡°Sure. Good luck with that.¡± Isolde walked to the elevator without looking back. She had a dress to forget and an equation to solve. The Orbital engineering floor was silent, save for the soft clicks of a mouse and the low murmur of Isolde¡¯s voice. She was in the zone. The Flow. The numbers on the screen weren¡¯t merely data ¡ª they were anguage. She saw the satellite¡¯s trajectory in her mind, a silver arc against the ck velvet of space. She felt the drag coefficients as physical weights pressing against her thoughts. ire stood by the coffee machine, watching. She had expected Isolde to give up an hour ago. Instead, Isolde hadn¡¯t moved. She hadn¡¯t checked her phone. Her left arm was held stiffly at her side, her right hand moving with unnerving precision between the keyboard and a high-sensitivity trackball mouse. Isolde¡¯s fingers executedplexmands with an economy of motion, driven by custom macros. ¡°Initiate diagnostic script,¡± she murmured, and code scrolled across a secondary monitor. She wasn¡¯t typing ¡ª she was conducting an orchestra with a single baton. . . . Chapter 100 Chapter 100: She spotted the w in their approach immediately. They were using a brute-forceputational method ¡ª reliable, but brutally inefficient. Her mind raced, connecting disparate fields of mathematics. She wasn¡¯t solving their problem; she was building a new tool to make the problem obsolete. She found a redundancy in the fuel consumption algorithm and rewrote the code block in real time. Three hours. Isolde hit the Enter key with a decisive snap. The simtion on the main screen whirred to life. The satellite¡¯s path corrected itself, red warning lines shifting to a steady, soothing green. Fuel efficiency climbed by fourteen percent. Isolde spun her chair around. ¡°Done,¡± she said. The entire bullpen of engineers stared. ire walked over, her mouth slightly open. She looked at the timestamp. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. How did you run the regression so fast with one hand?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t need to,¡± Isolde said, standing and stretching her stiff back. ¡°The Euler method is too slow for this variable. I used a voice-activated script to apply a modified Runge-Kutta fourth-order method. It¡¯s more elegant. Less work, better results.¡± I??s??a???? §Ñ??§ãe??s ???? ????l????v??????.??o?? ire looked at the screen, then at Isolde. The skepticism in her eyes dissolved, reced by something closer to grudging respect. ¡°I¡­¡± ire swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I thought you were just¡­ And¡¯s friend.¡± ¡°I am And¡¯s friend,¡± Isolde said. ¡°But I¡¯m also Sophia.¡± ¡°Sophia?¡± ire frowned. ¡°Never mind,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Just don¡¯t give me busy work again, ire. My time is expensive.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± ire said. Isolde felt a quiet rush of triumph. This was who she was. Not a victim. Not a wife. An engineer. Her phone rang ¡ª shrill in the quiet office. Not Grayson. A local number. ¡°Isolde Carson,¡± she answered. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster?¡± A woman¡¯s voice, breathless and panicked. ¡°This is Principal Meyers from St. Jude¡¯s.¡± Isolde¡¯s blood ran cold. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Kaiden,¡± the principal said. ¡°There¡¯s been a serious incident. He brought a device to school. A drone. An industrial one.¡± ¡°A drone?¡± Isolde¡¯s hand tightened on the edge of the desk. ¡°He lost control of it. He hurt another student. The police are on their way and the parents are pressing charges. You need toe. Now.¡± Isolde hung up. ¡°Is everything okay?¡± ire asked. ¡°No,¡± Isolde said, grabbing her bag. ¡°The boy I raised. He¡¯s in trouble.¡± ¡°Do you need cover?¡± ¡°Just tell And I had to go,¡± Isolde said, already running for the door. She sprinted to the elevator. A drone. Grayson had bought him that DJI Matricest week. Isolde had told him it was too dangerous. She had told him the carbon fiber des were like knives. He hadn¡¯t listened. He never listened. And now a child was hurt. The scene at St. Jude¡¯s was chaos. A police cruiser sat on the frontwn, its lights shing. An ambnce idled near the yground gate. Isolde mmed her car door and ran toward the cluster of adults gathered near the swing set. She saw Kaiden first. He was standing near the fence, gripping a massive ck remote controller. He wasn¡¯t crying. He looked defiant ¡ª chin jutting, eyes wild. Belle was there, of course, talking to a police officer and waving her hands. ¡°It¡¯s just a toy!¡± Belle said, her voice high and shrill. ¡°He¡¯s six years old! You can¡¯t arrest a six-year-old!¡± . . . Chapter 101 Chapter 101: ¡°Ma¡¯am, that ¡®toy¡¯ required FAA registration,¡± the officer said firmly. Isolde pushed through the crowd. Near the bench, a woman sat pressing a towel to a young boy¡¯s ear. The towel was red. ¡°Kaiden!¡± Isolde shouted. Kaiden looked at her. ¡°You!¡± Isolde marched toward him. ¡°Give me the controller. Now.¡± ¡°No!¡± Kaiden screamed. ¡°It¡¯s mine! Daddy bought it for me! He said I can fly it wherever I want!¡± ¡°You hurt someone!¡± Isolde reached for the controller. Most read this week on Kaiden kicked her. Hard. His sneaker connected with her shin. ¡°Get away from me, you witch!¡± Kaiden yelled. ¡°Belle said you¡¯re a witch!¡± Isolde ignored the pain. She grabbed his wrist. The ck Maybach screeched to a halt at the curb. Grayson jumped out. He didn¡¯t look at the injured child. He didn¡¯t look at the police. He walked straight to Kaiden. ¡°Hey!¡± Grayson shouted. ¡°Get your hands off my son!¡± He shoved Isolde back. ¡°Grayson, look!¡± Isolde pointed at the boy on the bench. ¡°He cut a child¡¯s ear. That drone is a weapon!¡± Grayson nced at the bleeding boy, then reached into his jacket and produced a checkbook. He walked to the boy¡¯s father, who stood nearby trembling with rage. ¡°I¡¯m Grayson Lancaster,¡± Grayson said, clicking his pen. ¡°I¡¯ll cover the medical bills, and I¡¯ll add fifty thousand for your trouble. Let¡¯s not make this a legal issue.¡± The father stared at him. ¡°You think you can buy my son¡¯s ear?¡± ¡°I think everyone has a price,¡± Grayson said. While the adults were distracted, Kaiden¡¯s eyes moved across the yground. He found Effie. She hade outside with her teacher and was standing near the slide, watching the scene with wide, terrified eyes. Kaiden hated Effie. He hated that Isolde loved her. He hated that she was quiet when he was loud. ¡°Look at me!¡± Kaiden shrieked. He toggled the switch on the controller. The drone, resting on the grass a few feet away, whirred back to life. The four rotors spun up with a high-pitched, mechanical scream. ¡°Kaiden, no!¡± Isolde screamed. Kaiden jammed the joystick forward. The drone lifted off and tilted aggressively. It didn¡¯t rise. It surged sideways ¡ª straight toward Effie. It was moving fast. Too fast. The carbon fiber des were a blur. Effie froze. She stood perfectly still, watching ite. Isolde didn¡¯t think. She didn¡¯t calcte. She moved. She threw herself across the gap and tackled Effie, wrapping her body around her daughter and turning her back to the iing drone. Belle, catching sight of Grayson watching, let out a theatrical scream and ran forward ¡ª not to help, but to be part of the scene. She tripped over her own heels five feet short of reaching them. Whirrrr ¡ª THWACK. The drone mmed into Isolde¡¯s left arm and back. The des shattered on impact, but not before they tore through her zer, her blouse, and deep into her flesh. Isolde made a sound of pure shock. Pain, hot and white, exploded up her arm. . . . Chapter 102 Chapter 102: She hit the ground hard, using her good hand to shield Effie¡¯s head. Silence fell over the yground. For a moment, there was no sound but the spinning of a broken rotor on the grass. Isoldey in the dirt. Her vision swam. Her left arm felt as though it were on fire and yet, strangely,pletely numb. She could feel a wet warmth spreading rapidly down her sleeve. ¡°Mommy?¡± Effie whispered from beneath her. ¡°Mommy, you¡¯re heavy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m okay,¡± Isolde gasped, trying to roll over. She couldn¡¯t. Her arm wouldn¡¯t hold her. Five yards away, Belle was sitting on the grass, clutching her hand. ¡°Ow! Gray!¡± Belle screamed, her voice piercing the air. ¡°My hand! I think I broke a nail! It hurts so much!¡± Grayson turned. He saw two women on the ground. He saw Isolde, lying still. He saw Belle, crying hysterically. ??h?? ????s?? ??e§Ñ??i??? e???????????????e ???? ??§Ñ???????e????.??§à?? He ran. He ran past Isolde. He stepped directly over her legs. He dropped to his knees beside Belle. ¡°Belle! Are you okay? Let me see.¡± ¡°It hurts!¡± Belle sobbed, holding up a finger with a tiny, superficial scratch. ¡°I tried to save them! I tried to stop it!¡± ¡°You¡¯re brave,¡± Grayson said, cradling her hand as though it were made of ss. ¡°You¡¯re so brave.¡± He nced over his shoulder at Isolde. From his angle, her dark navy zer concealed the rapidly spreading bloodstain against the dark mulch beneath her. He saw only her stillness ¡ª a stark contrast to Belle¡¯s noisy hysterics. His mind, conditioned by years of what he hade to see as Isolde¡¯s quiet maniptions, processed the scene through a lens of cynical fury. ¡°Isolde, get up!¡± Grayson barked. ¡°Stop being dramatic. Belle is actually hurt.¡± Isolde lifted her head. Her face was the color of ash. She tried to speak, but her teeth were chattering with shock. ¡°My¡­ arm¡­¡± she whispered. ¡°Save it,¡± Grayson snapped. He rose, pulling Belle up with him. ¡°We¡¯re going to the ER. Belle needs an X-ray.¡± He looked at Kaiden, who was staring at the broken drone, looking frightened for the first time. ¡°Kaiden, get in the car. Isolde, take Effie and go home. And deal with this mess you let happen.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± The father of the injured boy stepped forward. ¡°Are you blind? Your wife is bleeding! Look at the ground!¡± Grayson nced down. He saw a dark patch spreading through the mulch. Internally, he dismissed it. It looked like spilled coffee. Another prop in her little stage y. ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± Grayson said. He ushered Belle and Kaiden into the Maybach. The door mmed. The engine roared, and the car sped away, leaving dust swirling in the still air. Isolde watched the taillights disappear. A tear slid down her cheek. Not from the pain. From the finality of it. He had stepped over her bleeding body tofort a liar with a broken nail. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± The police officer was crouching beside her now. ¡°Don¡¯t move. The ambnce is right here.¡± ¡°Effie,¡± Isolde managed. ¡°Is she¡­?¡± . . . Chapter 103 Chapter 103: ¡°I¡¯m here, Mommy.¡± Effie was crying, holding Isolde¡¯s face in both hands. They were stained red. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding. There¡¯s so much blood.¡± Tires screeched. A low-slung sports car jumped the curb and tore through the grass. And Roth vaulted out of the driver¡¯s seat before the car had fully stopped. He had followed Isolde from the office, troubled when she¡¯d run out without exnation. He saw the blood. ¡°Isolde!¡± He hit his knees beside her, his expensive suit ruining against the dirt. He saw the shredded fabric of her sleeve. He saw the white sh of bone or tendon deep in the wound at her wrist. ??e??d ??????§Ö n§àv?????? on ????????????el?.§ão?? ¡°Oh god,¡± And breathed. He ripped off his tie and wrapped it around her upper arm, pulling it taut as a tourniquet. ¡°And,¡± Isolde whispered, her eyes losing focus. ¡°He¡­ he left.¡± ¡°I know,¡± And said. His voice shook with a rage so profound it had gone quiet. ¡°I saw.¡± He looked up at the crowd. ¡°Did anyone film that? Did anyone see him leave her?¡± ¡°I did,¡± the injured boy¡¯s father said, holding up his phone. ¡°I got all of it.¡± ¡°Send it to me,¡± And said. He lifted Isolde into his arms. She was limp against his chest. ¡°Effie,e with me,¡± And said gently. He settled Isolde into the passenger seat and buckled her in. Effie climbed into the back. ¡°Stay with me, Isolde,¡± And said, gripping her hand. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare close your eyes.¡± Isolde looked at him. The world was fading at the edges. ¡°My hand,¡± she whispered. ¡°My drawing hand.¡± Then the darkness took her. The lights of the Trauma Center were harsh and unforgiving. Isolde was on a gurney being rushed down a corridor. Nurses were cutting away her clothes. ¡°BP is dropping! Eighty over fifty!¡± ¡°Deepceration to the left forearm. Flexor tendons severed. Radial artery nicked. We need stics and ortho immediately!¡± And ran alongside the gurney until the double doors of the operating room swung shut in his face. He stood there, chest heaving, Isolde¡¯s blood drying on his white shirt. Effie sat on a stic chair in the waiting room, hugging her knees. She looked impossibly small. And walked over and crouched down. He pulled a wet wipe from a dispenser and gently cleaned the blood from her small hands. ¡°Is Mommy going to die?¡± Effie asked, her voice utterly t. It was the voice of a child who had seen too much. ¡°No,¡± And said fiercely. ¡°She is the strongest person I know.¡± ¡°Daddy didn¡¯t help,¡± Effie said. ¡°He stepped on her.¡± And closed his eyes. He stepped on her. ¡°I know, Effie.¡± His pocket buzzed. It was Isolde¡¯s phone ¡ª he had picked it up from the grass. A text from Target. And unlocked the screen. He knew the passcode. It was Effie¡¯s birthday. Belle is very shaken by your outburst at the school. Your reckless actions resulted in the destruction of Kaiden¡¯s property. If you have any sense of responsibility left, you wille to Lenox Hill and address the chaos you¡¯ve created. And stared at the screen. The words blurred. . . . Chapter 104 Chapter 104: Address the chaos you¡¯ve created. Heughed ¡ª a dark, terrible sound. He raised the phone, his thumb hovering over the camera icon. He wanted to photograph the bloody doors. He wanted to text back: She¡¯s in surgery, you monster. He stopped. ????n¡¯?? ?????s ?????? ????????a??e?? §à?? ???????§à????????.§ã???? No. Knowledge was power. If Grayson knew she was hurt, he might pretend to care. He might spin it. He might y the grieving husband. Let him be ignorant. Let him dig his own grave. And deleted the text. Then he went into the contacts, found Target, and selected Block Caller. He put the phone in his pocket. A doctor came through the doors, pulling off a surgical cap. ¡°Family of Isolde Carson?¡± ¡°I¡¯m her partner,¡± And said. ¡°She¡¯s stable,¡± the doctor said. And released a breath. ¡°But the damage to the wrist was severe. The drone propeller acted like a saw. We reconnected the tendons and the nerve, but¡­¡± ¡°But what?¡± ¡°There is significant scarring. And motor function ¡ª it¡¯s going to be a long road. Fine motor skills, like writing or drawing, may never fully recover.¡± And felt a cold weight settle in his chest. Isolde was an engineer. Her hands were her life. ¡°Does she know?¡± ¡°Not yet. She¡¯s in recovery.¡± Across town, in a plush VIP suite at Lenox Hill, Grayson stared at his phone and frowned. ¡°She¡¯s not replying,¡± he said. Belle sat beside him, eating a bowl of cut melon with her supposedly injured hand. ¡°She¡¯s probably sulking. She loves the drama.¡± ¡°She ignored me,¡± Grayson said, his face darkening. ¡°Stone is filing his motions this afternoon. She thinks she can hide.¡± He looked toward the door. ¡°Sarah!¡± His assistant appeared in the doorway. ¡°Yes, Mr. Lancaster?¡± ¡°Call the bank. Tell them to g Carson Dynamics¡¯ ounts for suspicious activity. Use the SkyLine credit risk department. I want their supply chain credit paralyzed by morning. She needs to learn that actions have consequences.¡± ¡°But sir,¡± Sarah hesitated. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ her mother¡¯spany.¡± ¡°Do it!¡± Grayson roared. ¡°Before herwyers freeze us, we freeze her.¡± Isolde woke to the smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of a monitor. Her left arm was heavy. She looked down. It was encased in thick ster from her knuckles to her elbow. Pain throbbed in time with her heartbeat. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± And was sitting in the chair beside the bed. He looked exhausted, his shirt rumpled and stained. Isolde tried to move her fingers. They were stiff. Unresponsive. Panic red in her chest. ¡°My hand,¡± she rasped. ¡°And¡­ can I move it?¡± And took her right hand in both of his. ¡°The surgery went well. But there was tendon damage. You¡¯re going to need therapy.¡± ¡°Will I draw again?¡± And hesitated. That pause told her everything. ¡°We don¡¯t know yet.¡± Isolde closed her eyes. A tear slipped free. Sophia. Her designs. Her delicate, precise sketches. ¡°Where is Effie?¡± ¡°Asleep on the cot in the corner. She¡¯s safe.¡± . . . Chapter 105 Chapter 105: The door opened. Arthur Stone walked in, looking as though he had slept in his suit. ¡°Isolde,¡± Stone said, his voice grave. ¡°I saw the video. The father sent it to And.¡± ¡°Is it bad?¡± ¡°It¡¯s damning,¡± Stone said. ¡°Grayson stepping over you. Leaving the scene of an ident involving a minor. That¡¯s criminal negligence. And Kaiden ¡ª using a drone as a weapon ¡ª that¡¯s assault with a deadly instrument.¡± ?????§Ön???? r??????n???? ???? ?????????????????.?????? ¡°He¡¯s six,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°He¡¯s dangerous,¡± Stone countered. ¡°And he learned it from his father. We need to file ¡ª not just for divorce, but for personal injury, custody, and a restraining order.¡± ¡°Do it,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was weak, but hard as iron. ¡°Protect Effie.¡± Her phone on the bedside table lit up. A notification. Alert: Carson Dynamics Business ount ¡ª FROZEN. Reason: Fraud Investigation initiated by SkyLine Technologies. Isolde stared at the screen. ¡°He froze thepany,¡± she said quietly. ¡°My mother¡¯spany. He¡¯s trying to kill it.¡± Her mother, Ellyn, called a momentter. Isolde answered. ¡°Isolde!¡± Ellyn was sobbing. ¡°The suppliers are pulling out. The bank locked the payroll ount. Grayson called ¡ª he said if youe home, he¡¯ll make it stop. He said you¡¯re being stubborn.¡± Isolde felt a fire ignite deep in her chest. It burned through the pain in her arm. It burned through the fear. ¡°Mom,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Don¡¯t panic. Let him freeze it.¡± ¡°But we¡¯ll go bankrupt!¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°We won¡¯t. I¡¯m going to fix it.¡± She hung up and reached for the IV pole, a wave of dizziness rolling over her. ¡°Isolde, what are you doing?¡± And rose from the chair. ¡°I¡¯m checking out,¡± Isolde said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The room tilted. She gripped the mattress, knuckles white, a sheen of sweat across her forehead. ¡°You just had surgery! You¡¯d be signing out against medical advice!¡± ¡°I have one hand left,¡± Isolde said, her voice tight with pain and resolve. ¡°And I have a brain. That¡¯s enough.¡± She looked at And. ¡°Take me to Professor Nelson.¡± ¡°Nelson? Why?¡± ¡°The Phoenix-X7,¡± Isolde said. ¡°The military application rights. I own them. Grayson thinks he does, but the patent is in Sophia¡¯s name.¡± She steadied herself. ¡°Orbital will acquire a controlling interest in Carson Dynamics ¡ª injecting the capital needed to unfreeze its assets. In exchange, Carson Dynamics will grant Orbital the exclusive license to the Phoenix IP.¡± And¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You¡¯re giving us the Phoenix? That¡¯s worth billions.¡± ¡°I¡¯m giving it to you so you can build it,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And so Grayson can¡¯t. But can he stop the transfer? Is it legally protected?¡± Stone stepped forward, a grim smile crossing his face. ¡°He can¡¯t. The Phoenix-X7 patent was filed under the Sophia entity, funded by a pre-marital trust your mother established. It is legally firewalled from your marital assets. This isn¡¯t an asset transfer ¡ª it¡¯s a corporate acquisition and licensing deal. A legitimate business strategy to rescue a distressedpany. He has no im.¡± . . . Chapter 106 Chapter 106: Isolde looked at And, her eyes zing. ¡°I want to see his face when he realizes the jet he¡¯s trying to sell the Air Force is legally yours.¡± And¡¯s grin was slow and wolfish. ¡°Deal,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s get you discharged.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t go straight to Nelson. She went to the Tribeca apartment first. Re??§à??????n?? ??????n????§Ö????.??om t?? yo???? ??????e????? She stood in the bathroom, trying to button a fresh white shirt with one hand. It was maddeningly difficult. Her fingers fumbled and slipped. Effie walked in. She didn¡¯t say a word. She simply reached up and buttoned the shirt for her mother, one small button at a time. ¡°Thank you, baby,¡± Isolde whispered, kissing her forehead. The inte buzzed ¡ª harsh and insistent. The doorman¡¯s voice came through, apologetic. ¡°Ms. Carson, I¡¯m sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Lancaster¡¯s attorney is on the line. He says it¡¯s an emergency and is demanding to be put through.¡± Isolde stared at the console. Grayson couldn¡¯t reach her cell, so he was usingwyers as a battering ram. She pressed the button. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Isolde? It¡¯s Grayson.¡± His voice was ice. ¡°What the hell did you do?¡± ¡°I¡¯m busy, Grayson.¡± ¡°Busy? Doing what? ying nurse to your bruised ego?¡± Grayson sneered. ¡°I froze your mother¡¯s ounts. Did you get the alert? Come home, Isolde. Bring Effie. Apologize to Belle. And I¡¯ll unlock the money.¡± ¡°Keep it frozen,¡± Isolde said calmly. ¡°I¡¯m buying thepany back anyway.¡± ¡°With what money?¡± Graysonughed. ¡°You¡¯re destitute.¡± ¡°Grayson,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I have filed a new motion with the court. Stone is delivering it now.¡± ¡°More alimony demands?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯m petitioning the court to invalidate the NDA regarding Kaiden¡¯s parentage, citing child endangerment and criminal negligence.¡± Silence. ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Grayson said, his voice dropping low and dangerous. ¡°That¡¯s sealed.¡± ¡°Is it? An NDA doesn¡¯t protect you from a criminal investigation. I have the video of you leaving me bleeding on the ground. I have the medical report documenting my severed tendons. I have proof that you knowingly ced a dangerous, unregistered device in the hands of a minor who then used it as a weapon. How do you think a judge will respond to an NDA designed to conceal the origins of a child you have now endangered?¡± ¡°You¡­ you wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± Grayson¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°Am I not? See you in court.¡± ¡°Isolde, wait! We can talk! Don¡¯t do this!¡± She cut the connection. She walked into the kitchen and stood over the counter, staring at her cell phone. It wasn¡¯t just amunication device. It was a leash ¡ª a record of her old life, a potential backdoor for him. She popped the SIM tray open, removed the card, and dropped the chip into the garbage disposal. Then she sealed the phone in a Ziploc bag, walked to the service elevator, and dropped it down the building¡¯s trash chute. A final, decisive break. An hourter, she sat across from Stone in his office. He pushed the papers across the mahogany desk. intiff: Isolde Carson. Defendant: Grayson Lancaster. Isolde picked up the pen with her right hand. It felt awkward. She was left-handed. . . . Chapter 107 Chapter 107: She signed her name. The letters came out jagged, sharp, and angry. ¡°This is it,¡± Stone said. ¡°Once I file this, there is no going back. It¡¯s war.¡± ¡°It was war the moment he stepped over me,¡± Isolde said. She walked out of the office. And was waiting by the car. ??e§Ñ?? ????§Ö?? ??????????? ???? ??§Ñ????§à????????.??o?? ¡°Nelson is expecting us,¡± And said. ¡°But he has a condition.¡± ¡°What condition?¡± ¡°He wants to announce the partnership at a specific venue,¡± And said. ¡°This weekend.¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°Alistair Lancaster¡¯s eightieth birthday party.¡± Isolde went still. Alistair. Grayson¡¯s father. The patriarch. The only man Grayson had ever truly feared. The party would be held at the Hamptons estate, and every power yer in New York would be there. ¡°He wants me to walk into the lion¡¯s den,¡± Isolde said. ¡°He wants you to walk in there, with your cast, and announce that you ¡ª Sophia ¡ª have signed with Orbital. He wants you to humiliate Grayson in front of his father.¡± Isolde looked down at her bandaged arm. She felt the phantom pain pulsing beneath the ster. She thought of Belle wearing her dress. She thought of Grayson stepping over her bleeding body without breaking stride. A cold smile touched her lips. ¡°Okay,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯ll go. And I¡¯m going to wear white.¡± ¡°White?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Isolde said. ¡°The color of surrender. I want him to think I¡¯ming to beg for forgiveness ¡ª right before I burn his kingdom to the ground.¡± Isolde woke to a throbbing, rhythmic pain that radiated from her left wrist all the way to her shoulder. It wasn¡¯t merely an ache ¡ª it was a sharp, biting sensation, like teeth still working at bone. She gasped, eyes flying open in the dim light of the Tribeca apartment. She tried to push herself upright, but her left arm was dead weight, encased in a sleek ckposite brace. The attempt sent a jolt of agony through her nervous system so intense that ck spots bloomed across her vision. ¡°Mommy?¡± The whisper came from the doorway. Isolde turned her head. Effie stood there in her oversized pajamas, clutching her stuffed rabbit. Her eyes were wide, dark pools of worry. She looked too small. Too old for her age. ¡°I¡¯m okay, baby,¡± Isolde said, her voice raspy. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, bracing herself with her right hand. ¡°Just thirsty.¡± Effie didn¡¯t wait. She padded to the nightstand, lifted the heavy ss carafe with both hands, and poured water into a ss with solemn, careful focus. It broke Isolde¡¯s heart. A five-year-old shouldn¡¯t know how to nurse her mother. Isolde took the ss. The water was cool, washing away the metallic taste of painkillers and fear. The inte buzzed. Isolde went still. It was seven in the morning. She walked to the living room, Effie trailing behind her like a shadow. The lobby camera showed her mother, Ellyn Briggs, standing at the entrance looking frantic ¡ª her usually immacte hair windblown, her Herm¨¨s bag clutched against her chest like a shield. . . . Chapter 108 Chapter 108: Isolde pressed the button. ¡°Let her up.¡± Two minutester, Ellyn burst through the door. She stopped when she saw the brace. Her eyes widened, filling with tears. ¡°Oh, look at you.¡± For a brief moment, Isolde felt a flicker of something old and instinctive. The biological need to beforted by her mother. ¡°It hurts, Mom,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°The doctor said the nerve damage might be¡ª¡± ¡°Grayson really did it,¡± Ellyn interrupted, her voice trembling. She was no longer looking at the brace. She was staring past Isolde, at the terrifying reality of her own bank ount. ¡°He froze everything. The payroll ount. The supplier credit lines. I tried to buy coffee this morning and my card was declined. Declined!¡± The flicker of hope died. It turned into a cold, hard lump of ash in Isolde¡¯s stomach. ¡°My arm was almost severed, Mom,¡± Isolde said, her voice t. ¡°And you¡¯re talking about coffee?¡± Ellyn flushed, wringing her hands. ¡°Of course I care about your arm! But thepany ¡ª it¡¯s your father¡¯s legacy. Grayson called me. He said if you just stop this nonsense and go home and apologize, he¡¯ll unlock the funds. He said you¡¯re being unreasonable.¡± ¡°Unreasonable?¡± Isolde let out a short, brittleugh. ¡°He left me bleeding on the ground. He stepped over me.¡± ??????¡¯?? ??i?s ????? ??§Ö??????s§Ö?? o?? ??????????v??l?.?????? ¡°He¡¯s a man, Isolde! They have pride!¡± Ellyn seized Isolde¡¯s good hand, her grip desperate and mmy. ¡°You have to fix this. Go to him. Beg if you have to. We can¡¯t survive an audit.¡± Isolde pulled her hand away. The word hung in the air. Audit. ¡°Why can¡¯t we survive an audit?¡± Isolde asked, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Carson Dynamics has always been clean.¡± Ellyn looked away. She smoothed her skirt, her gaze moving to the window, to the floor ¡ª anywhere but Isolde¡¯s face. ¡°There are¡­plexities,¡± Ellyn stammered. ¡°Loans I took out to keep us afloat after your father was forced out. He left a mess, Isolde. A disaster.¡± Isolde felt the blood drain from her face. Her father, Keyon, hadn¡¯t just been a phnderer ¡ª he had been a reckless gambler with thepany¡¯s future. She had known the business was struggling, but she had never known the depths of it. ¡°What kind of mess?¡± ¡°He leveragedpany assets for his side projects ¡ª projects that all failed,¡± Ellyn confessed, her voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°To cover the losses, I had to move funds. Restructure loans in ways that a thorough ountant might call fraud. If they look too closely, Isolde¡­ I could go to jail.¡± The revtion was suffocating. It wasn¡¯t ipetence. It was criminal liability ¡ª a weapon her mother had forged and then handed directly to Grayson. ¡°You embezzledpany funds?¡± ¡°I borrowed!¡± Ellyn snapped, her voice cracking with self-pity. ¡°To keep thepany from copsing! To maintain the Carson name so you wouldn¡¯t be ashamed! I did it for us!¡± ¡°Get out,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Isolde, please¡ª¡± . . . Chapter 109 Chapter 109: ¡°Get out!¡± Isolde screamed. The pain in her arm red, white-hot. ¡°Go ask Grayson for money. Tell him you sold your daughter for a credit line. Maybe he¡¯ll give you a discount.¡± Ellyn stared at her, grabbed her bag, and fled. The door mmed shut, vibrating the walls. Isolde stood trembling in the silence. Her father was a ghost who had abandoned them, and her mother was a parasite. ¡°Mommy?¡± Effie tugged gently at her shirt. ¡°Are you crying?¡± T??§Ö ??§Ö???? ??§Ö????i??g e§çp??????e?????? ???? g??????????§Ö????.??§à?? Isolde wiped her face. ¡°No, baby. I¡¯m done crying.¡± The afternoon sun was cutting long, amber nts across the floor when the inte buzzed again. Isolde didn¡¯t want to answer. The buzzing was persistent. Aggressive. She walked to the screen. Grayson stood in the lobby in a charcoal suit, looking every inch the master of the universe. Beside him, slouching against the marble wall, Kaiden held a Nintendo Switch and ignored his father entirely. Isolde pressed the talk button. ¡°Go away.¡± ¡°Open the door, Isolde.¡± Grayson¡¯s voice crackled through the speaker ¡ª not tired, but coldlymanding. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving until we talk.¡± ¡°Talk to mywyer.¡± ¡°I brought Kaiden.¡± Grayson grabbed the boy¡¯s shoulder and shoved him toward the camera. ¡°We¡¯re going to my father¡¯s g as a family. This charade ends now. You wille home. We will present a united front.¡± Kaiden looked up, his face twisted in a scowl. ¡°I don¡¯t want to! Belle said I don¡¯t have to!¡± ¡°Shut up, Kaiden,¡± Grayson hissed, then looked back at the lens. ¡°This is your final offer, Isolde. Stop this foolishness. I need to see Effie. I need to know what the doctors said about her trauma.¡± ¡°Her trauma?¡± A surge of rage moved through Isolde so potent it made her dizzy. ¡°You didn¡¯t care about her trauma when you were worried about your suit. You didn¡¯t care about my arm when you stepped over me.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t see you!¡± Grayson shouted. The veneer of calm was cracking. ¡°I was panicking! Belle was screaming! Stop rewriting history to make yourself the victim!¡± ¡°The video doesn¡¯t lie, Grayson. The whole world saw you run.¡± ¡°That video is out of context!¡± He mmed his hand against the wall beside the camera. ¡°Open this door! I am your husband! I have a right to see my daughter!¡± ¡°You have no rights,¡± Isolde said. ¡°You forfeited them when you handed a six-year-old a weapon.¡± Kaiden suddenly leaned into the camera and stuck out his tongue. ¡°You¡¯re ugly! And your arm looks stupid! I hope it falls off!¡± Grayson didn¡¯t correct him. He didn¡¯t pull him back. He simply looked at Isolde, his eyes cold and calcting. ¡°You think you¡¯re safe in there?¡± Grayson said. ¡°You think And Roth can protect you? I will buy this building and evict you. I will burn your mother¡¯spany to ash. Open. The. Door.¡± Isolde looked at the man she had loved for five years. She searched for some trace of the man who had once bought her flowers, who had once held her hand. He was gone. Or perhaps he had never existed. . . . Chapter 110 Chapter 110: ¡°Try it,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Break the door down. I have the police on speed dial. Do you want another headline? Lancaster CEO Arrested for Home Invasion?¡± She pressed the Power Off button. The screen went ck. A secondter, a heavy thud shook the door. A kick. Then silence. Isolde backed away, her heart hammering. She looked at Effie, who was crouched behind the sofa with both hands pressed over her ears. Isolde walked over and lowered herself to the floor. She wrapped her good arm around her daughter and held her close. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she whispered into Effie¡¯s hair. ¡°The bad man is gone.¡± She pulled out the burner phone And had given her and dialed Arthur Stone. ???????????? ???????????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? ¡°Stone,¡± thewyer answered on the first ring. ¡°File the restraining order,¡± Isolde said, her eyes fixed on the door. ¡°And the criminal charges. Don¡¯t wait.¡± ¡°Isolde, are you sure? Once we do this¡ª¡± ¡°He just tried to kick down my door,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯m not negotiating anymore. I¡¯m hunting.¡± The lobby of Orbital Systems hummed with the quiet, expensive energy of innovation ¡ª a cathedral of ss and steel. Isolde walked through the turnstiles at eight-thirty in the morning. She wore a white silk blouse with the left sleeve pinned up to amodate her ckposite brace. Her face was pale, the dark circles beneath her eyes hidden underyers of concealer, but her spine was steel. She swiped her badge. The light turned green. Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the open-n office like a breeze through dry grass. ¡°That¡¯s her.¡± ¡°The drone victim.¡± ¡°Is that really Sophia?¡± Isolde ignored them. She kept her eyes fixed on the ss office at the end of the hall. And wasn¡¯t in yet. She settled at her desk ¡ª a temporary station in the main engineering bullpen while her office was being prepared. ¡°Well, look who decided to show up.¡± ire leaned against the partition, holding a steaming mug of coffee. Her smile was sharp, without warmth. ¡°Morning, ire,¡± Isolde said, sitting down. The movement jarred her arm, sending a fresh wave of pain up her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and refused to wince. ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see you in,¡± ire said, her eyes fixed pointedly on the brace. ¡°I assumed you¡¯d be taking extended medical leave.¡± ¡°I have work to do,¡± Isolde said, booting up her workstation. ¡°Good.¡± ire¡¯s tone turned brisk, all business. She dropped a heavy encrypted hard drive onto the desk. The thud made Isolde flinch. ¡°NASA just dumped the raw telemetry from the deep-space probe. They need the orbital decay rate calcted and the fuel optimization model finalized. By noon.¡± Isolde looked at the drive. That was a three-day job for a full team. ¡°Noon?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°And has a board meeting at one o¡¯clock. He needs the preliminary data to secure the next funding round,¡± ire said, crossing her arms. ¡°Look, I know your situation is difficult. If you can¡¯t handle it with your injury, just say so. I can reassign it. But we can¡¯t afford dys.¡± . . . Chapter 111 Chapter 111: Isolde looked at ire. She recognized the professional challenge beneath the thin veneer of concern. It wasn¡¯t an insult. It was a test. ¡°Fine,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Fine?¡± ire raised an eyebrow. ¡°You have one hand. The syntax alone for the initial parse isplex.¡± ¡°Watch me.¡± Isolde plugged in the drive and put on her headset. The pain in her arm was a constant, screaming undertone. The painkillers made her mind feel wrapped in cotton. She couldn¡¯t afford cotton. She didn¡¯t take them. She opened themand terminal. Her right hand hovered over the keyboard. She couldn¡¯t use standard shortcuts. She couldn¡¯t manage the keybinations. She took a slow breath and closed her eyes. ??????lo?? u?? ???? ????l???????l??.c???? She visualized the code ¡ª not as text, but as a structure. A building. She pressed her right thumb to the biometric scanner built into the keyboard. The screen shifted from the standard Orbital OS to a stark ck interface with glowing cyan text. Her private sandbox. A system only she could ess. The engineers around her stopped typing. They looked up. ¡°Initialize variable set,¡± Isolde said into her noise-canceling microphone, her voice low and steady. The system responded to her unique vocal print. ¡°Import dataset NASA_Raw. Parse via Fourier Transform. Filter noise threshold point-zero-five.¡± Lines of code began cascading down the screen, generated by her voice. ire scoffed. ¡°Voice coding? That¡¯s for amateurs. It¡¯s too slow.¡± Isolde ignored her. She spoke faster, her mind racing ahead of the machine. She wasn¡¯t merely dictating code ¡ª she was reciting a mathematical poem she had first written years ago in the margins of a grocery list. ¡°Define function: Gravity_Well. Apply Carson_Algorithm_V2. Optimize for fuel density.¡± Her right hand flew across the number pad, entering the constants the voice software couldn¡¯t handle. Sweat gathered at her temples. Her left arm throbbed, its pulse hammering against the tight brace. The pain was rifying. It sharpened her focus to a point. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. The office had gone silent. People were standing at their desks, craning their necks toward her monitors. The data on the screen was transforming ¡ª the chaotic raw static from NASA smoothing itself into a clean, elegant curve. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Mark, a senior systems architect, stepped closer. ¡°That¡¯s not a standard regression. What mathematics is that?¡± ¡°Non-linear chaos theory applied to fluid dynamics,¡± Isolde murmured, not breaking her rhythm. ¡°Execute.¡± The screen shed red. Processing. ire nced at her watch. ¡°It¡¯s going to crash. You overloaded the buffer.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t look at her. She stared at the progress bar. 98%¡­ 99%¡­ Ding. A green checkmark appeared. OPTIMIZATION COMPLETE. Fuel Efficiency Increase: 18%. Isolde slumped back in her chair, breathing in shallow gasps. Her shirt clung to her back. Her right hand was cramping. She turned to ire. ¡°Done,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°Anything else?¡± ire stared at the monitor. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The graph on the screen was a thing of beauty ¡ª a perfect purple trajectory line cutting cleanly through the noise of the data points. It wasn¡¯t just a calction. It was a masterpiece. . . . Chapter 112 Chapter 112: ¡°Eighteen percent,¡± Mark breathed, adjusting his sses. ¡°We were hoping for five. Eighteen changes the entire industry.¡± He looked at Isolde with something approaching reverence. ¡°You did that¡­ in your head?¡± ¡°I had help,¡± Isolde said, tapping her temple. ¡°I didn¡¯t leave my brain on the pavement.¡± ire¡¯s face turned a mottled red. She reached for the drive. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll take this to And.¡± ¡°Leave it,¡± a deep voice said from across the room. And Roth stood at the entrance of the bullpen in a navy suit, his expression unreadable. He had been watching for thest ten minutes. He walked forward, the cluster of engineers parting around him. He studied the screen, then looked at Isolde¡¯s pale, sweat-damp face. ¡°ire,¡± And said, his voice deceptively quiet. ¡°Did you assign this task?¡± ¡°I was ensuring the project stayed on schedule, sir,¡± ire stammered. ¡°I presented the deadline as a challenge¡ª¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t think she could do it,¡± And said. ¡°You gave a senior engineer recovering from a major injury a three-day workload with a two-hour deadline. That isn¡¯t management, ire. That¡¯s setting a colleague up to fail.¡± ¡°I was testing her capacity!¡± ire argued, her voice pitched with desperation. ¡°Her file says she¡¯s been out of the field for five years. We can¡¯t afford to carry anyone!¡± S???????? ???????? ??ho????h???? §à? ????????????????s.????m And pointed at the screen. ¡°The person you¡¯re trying to ¡®carry¡¯ just saved us six months of R&D. That code is the Sophia Algorithm. Do you know who Sophia is?¡± ire shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re looking at her,¡± And said. A collective intake of breath moved through the room. The legend. The ghost. The Valkyrie. Isolde sat straighter. She didn¡¯t feel like a legend. She felt as though she might be sick from the pain. ¡°Apologize,¡± And said. ire looked at the floor. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°To her,¡± And said sharply. ¡°Look at her.¡± ire lifted her eyes. They were full of humiliation. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Isolde. I underestimated you.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t underestimate me,¡± Isolde said quietly. ¡°You underestimated yourself. You thought the only way to shine was to blow out someone else¡¯s candle.¡± She stood, swaying slightly. ¡°I¡¯m going to get some water.¡± ¡°Mark,¡± And said, ¡°set up Isolde¡¯s office. The corner one, next to mine. Her title is Chief Systems Architect.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Mark said, visibly pleased. And caught Isolde¡¯s elbow as she passed him, his grip careful not to jostle her brace. ¡°You okay?¡± he murmured. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Isolde said. ¡°You¡¯re shaking.¡± ¡°Adrenaline,¡± she said. ¡°And maybe a little spite.¡± And chuckled quietly. ¡°Spite is a powerful fuel. Just don¡¯t burn out your engine.¡± ¡°I have a g to attend,¡± Isolde said, her eyes darkening. ¡°I need all the fuel I can get.¡± It was raining when Isolde left the building that evening ¡ª a cold, miserable New York drizzle that soaked through to the bone. She waved off And¡¯s offer of a ride. She needed air. She needed space. She stepped to the curb and raised her good hand to hail a cab. . . . Chapter 113 Chapter 113: A ck Maybach glided to the curb and cut off her path. The window slid down with a silent hum. Grayson. He looked impable, as always. Not a hair out of ce. A file folder rested in hisp. ¡°Get in,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯d rather walk to Brooklyn,¡± Isolde said, turning away. ¡°It¡¯s about the brooch,¡± Grayson said. Isolde stopped. Her feet felt nailed to the pavement. Her grandmother¡¯s emerald brooch. The only thing she had left of the woman who had taught her to draw. It had been in the safe at the Penthouse. She had searched for it during her raid, but the velvet box was empty. He must have moved it. ¡°I know you were looking for it,¡± Grayson said, his voice t. He held up his phone, disying a formal consignment document from Sotheby¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s scheduled for auction next month. Daron McKnight has already ced a preliminary bid. He¡¯s very eager to own a piece of your family¡¯s history.¡± ??????u?????? ????§à???????? o?? ??a????????e???.§ã???? The threat was surgical ¡ª far crueler than simple destruction. Horror flooded her veins. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡¯m tired of the games, Isolde. Get in the car.¡± Isolde opened the rear door and slid onto the leather seat. It smelled of him. Sandalwood and money. ¡°Where is it?¡± she demanded. ¡°In a vault. For now.¡± Grayson tapped the driver¡¯s partition and the car began to move. ¡°But my broker is on speed dial.¡± ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°Saturday,¡± Grayson said. ¡°My father¡¯s birthday. You¡¯reing.¡± ¡°I was already nning toe.¡± ¡°No.¡± Grayson shook his head. ¡°You were nning to crash it. I want you toe as my wife. I want you to stand by my side. I want you to smile. I want you to wear the dress I bought you. And I want you to tell everyone that the divorce is on hold.¡± ¡°You want me to lie.¡± ¡°I want to protect the stock price,¡± Grayson corrected. ¡°The rumors are hurting us. My father is frail. If he sees us united, he¡¯ll sign over the final trust fund tranche to Kaiden.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s about money,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Always.¡± ¡°It¡¯s about legacy.¡± Grayson looked at her brace. His eyes lingered there for a moment, unreadable. ¡°If you do this ¡ª if you y the part perfectly ¡ª I will give you the brooch. And I will unfreeze your mother¡¯s ounts.¡± It was extortion. Pure and simple. ¡°And Belle?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°Belle will be there. As a friend of the family.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°If I see her ¡ª if she speaks to me ¡ª the deal is off. I will scream the truth from the rooftops.¡± Grayson hesitated. ¡°She won¡¯t bother you. I promise.¡± ¡°Your promises are worth less than the air you breathe,¡± Isolde said. ¡°But I want that brooch.¡± ¡°Then we have a deal?¡± Isolde looked out the window at the blurred city lights streaking past in the rain. ¡°Deal,¡± she said. ¡°But know this, Grayson ¡ª you¡¯re forcing a wolf into a cage. Don¡¯t be surprised when it bites.¡± The car stopped at her building. . . . Chapter 114 Chapter 114: Grayson reached out and took her right hand. His skin was warm. ¡°Isolde,¡± he said, his voice softening. ¡°Why does it have to be this way? We were good once.¡± Isolde pulled her hand away as though he had burned her. ¡°We were never good, Grayson,¡± she said. ¡°I was just blind.¡± ??§ài?? ??he ??§àmmu??it?? a?? ??????????????????.§ã§à?? She got out of the car and closed the door behind her. Saturday morning arrived beneath a sky the color of a bruise. Grayson sent a car ¡ª not just a car, but an entire team. Hair, makeup, styling. He wanted to control every inch of her appearance. He insisted they prepare at the Penthouse. ¡°For the optics,¡± he had said. ¡°The paparazzi are outside.¡± Isolde walked into the Penthouse foyer holding Effie¡¯s hand. It felt like walking into a mausoleum. The air was stale. ¡°Mommy, I don¡¯t like it here,¡± Effie whispered. ¡°I know, baby. Just a few hours.¡± They walked into the living room. Belle was there. She was lounging on the white sofa ¡ª Isolde¡¯s sofa ¡ª wearing a silk robe Isolde recognized from the master bedroom closet. A mimosa dangled from her fingers. ¡°Oh, look who¡¯s here,¡± Belle drawled. ¡°The invalid.¡± Kaiden was on the floor in a VR headset, iling his arms. He knocked over a vase. It shattered. ¡°Oops,¡± Kaidenughed, not bothering to remove the headset. Grayson walked in from the study, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked at the broken vase, then at Kaiden, then at Isolde. He said nothing about the mess. ¡°You¡¯rete,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Traffic,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Why is she here?¡± She pointed at Belle. ¡°I live here now, sweetie,¡± Belle smiled. ¡°Didn¡¯t you get the memo?¡± ¡°Grayson,¡± Isolde said. ¡°The deal.¡± ¡°She¡¯s just getting ready,¡± Grayson said dismissively. ¡°She¡¯s leaving in a separate car.¡± Kaiden pulled off his headset. He saw Effie. ¡°Hey, Crybaby,¡± Kaiden sneered. ¡°Did you bring your helmet? Or are you going to get hit by another drone?¡± Effie flinched and stepped behind Isolde. ¡°Kaiden, that¡¯s enough,¡± Grayson said, his tone bored. ¡°No, it¡¯s not enough.¡± Kaiden stood and walked toward Effie. He was a full head taller than her. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here. This is my house. My dad said you¡¯re a mistake.¡± The blood roared in Isolde¡¯s ears. She stepped forward, her hand rising. But Effie moved first. She stepped out from behind Isolde. She looked small, fragile ¡ª her burn scar still pink against her neck ¡ª but her eyes were zing. ¡°I am not a mistake,¡± Effie said, her voice clear and absolutely steady. ¡°I am a Lancaster. And I am a Carson. And you¡­¡± She raised a trembling finger at Kaiden. ¡°You are just a bully. And bullies are cowards.¡± The room went silent. Kaiden blinked. He had never heard Effie speak above a whisper. ¡°You¡­ shut up!¡± Kaiden shoved her. Effie didn¡¯t fall. She nted her feet. ¡°No. You shut up. You hurt my mommy. You are bad.¡± Belle gasped. ¡°Grayson! Did you hear that? She called him bad!¡± . . . Chapter 115 Chapter 115: Grayson stared at his daughter. He looked at the set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. It was the same look Isolde wore when she was deep in her work. The same look he recognized in the mirror when he was closing a deal. For the first time in five years, he truly saw her. ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Grayson murmured. ¡°What?¡± Belle shrieked. ¡°Kaiden pushed her,¡± Grayson said. He nced at the stylists standing in the corner, acutely aware of the audience. A scene here would leak to the press within minutes. He had to control the narrative. ¡°Kaiden, apologize.¡± ¡°No!¡± Kaiden ran to Belle and buried his face in her side. ¡°Mommy! He¡¯s being mean!¡± ???????? ?????? co???????????§å ??n ??a?????????????.?????? Mommy. The word hung in the air. Isolde looked at Grayson. ¡°You let him call her that?¡± Grayson looked away, his jaw tight. ¡°It¡¯s¡­plicated.¡± ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± Isolde said. ¡°We¡¯ll meet you at the g. I¡¯m not getting dressed in this zoo.¡± She took Effie¡¯s hand. As they walked to the elevator, Effie looked up at her. ¡°Did I do good, Mommy?¡± Isolde squeezed her hand. ¡°You were perfect.¡± ¡°We need a dress,¡± Isolde said as they stepped onto Fifth Avenue. ¡°But Daddy sent the stylist,¡± Effie said. ¡°Daddy has bad taste,¡± Isolde replied. They walked into Bergdorf Goodman. The air conditioning was a relief. The scent of expensive perfume and new leather settled Isolde¡¯s nerves. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster!¡± Pierre, a personal shopper who knew her well, rushed over. ¡°We have the new Chanel collection ready for you. Lots of pastels. Very demure.¡± ¡°No pastels, Pierre,¡± Isolde said. For a fleeting moment she considered the white dress she had originally nned ¡ª a symbol of surrender, of cold malice dressed as innocence. But after the scene at the Penthouse, after hearing a child call another woman Mommy, subtlety felt like a concession. She didn¡¯t want to y chess. She wanted to burn the board. ¡°I need armor.¡± ¡°Armor?¡± ¡°Something ck. Something sharp. Something that says ¡®funeral for a marriage.''¡± Pierre¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Right this way.¡± He led them to a private suite. Isolde moved along the racks, her hand pausing on a deep midnight blue gown ¡ª elegant, understated. ¡°That one,¡± she said. Just as Pierre reached for it, another hand closed around the hanger. ¡°I saw it first.¡± Belle. Of course. She was standing there in her street clothes, slightly breathless. She must have followed them. ¡°Belle,¡± Isolde sighed. ¡°Are you stalking me?¡± ¡°Grayson told me toe pick something up,¡± Belle said. She clutched the dress against herself. ¡°This matches my eyes.¡± ¡°It matches your bruises,¡± Isolde said dryly. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°From the stress,¡± Isolde said, smiling pleasantly. ¡°You look tired, Belle. Being a fake executive is exhausting, isn¡¯t it?¡± Belle¡¯s knuckles went white on the hanger. ¡°I¡¯m taking this dress. Put it on Mr. Lancaster¡¯s ount.¡± Pierre nced at Isolde, visibly ufortable. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster had it first¡­¡± ¡°Let her have it,¡± Isolde said, with a dismissive wave. ¡°Blue is the color of sadness. It suits her.¡± Belle smirked and swept into a fitting room. Isolde turned to Effie. ¡°What do you think?¡± Effie pointed to a dress disyed on a mannequin in the corner. . . . Chapter 116 Chapter 116: It was ck velvet. Floor-length. High neck at the front, but the back waspletely open, plunging all the way to the base of the spine. Severe. Dangerous. ¡°That one,¡± Effie said. ¡°Good choice.¡± Isolde lifted the dress from the mannequin. Just then, Grayson walked in. He had followed Belle. ¡°What is going on?¡± he demanded. ¡°Just shopping, darling,¡± Belle called from the fitting room. Grayson looked at Effie. ¡°Are you behaving?¡± More novels on Effie looked back at him steadily. ¡°My name isn¡¯t Effie Lancaster anymore.¡± Grayson frowned. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I want to be Effie Carson,¡± she said. ¡°Like Mommy.¡± Grayson¡¯s face darkened. He turned to Isolde. ¡°You put this in her head.¡± ¡°She has her own head, Grayson. Unlike some people.¡± Isolde walked toward the fitting room. ¡°I¡¯m paying for this myself. Don¡¯t worry about the bill.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have any money,¡± Grayson scoffed. ¡°I have plenty,¡± Isolde said, drawing the curtain closed. ¡°My consulting work is quite lucrative.¡± Isolde stepped out of the fitting room. The ck dress fit like a second skin. The velvet absorbed the light, making her silhouette look impossibly slender and stark. The high neck emphasized the elegance of her throat, while the open back exposed her skin ¡ª pale, smooth, and bare. Across her back and shoulder, a near-invisible medical film covered the still-healing wounds from the drone, its matte finish catching the light differently than her skin. She could feel its taut pull with every breath, a sharp reminder of the pain she was concealing. The ck brace on her arm looked like a deliberate essory. A gauntlet. Grayson stopped checking his phone. He stared. His mouth opened slightly. He had never seen her like this. He was ustomed to Isolde in soft pinks and modest cuts. The woman before him looked like a queen who had just executed her enemies. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ too much,¡± Grayson said, his voice thick. ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± Isolde said, looking in the mirror. Belle stepped out of the fitting room in the blue dress. It was beautiful, but on her it looked pedestrian. She didn¡¯t have the posture. She didn¡¯t have the gravity. Belle saw Grayson staring at Isolde. Jealousy red in her eyes like a struck match. ¡°It¡¯s a bit slutty, isn¡¯t it?¡± Belle said, adjusting her strap. ¡°For a family event?¡± Isolde turned slowly. ¡°Slutty? Coming from the woman sleeping with a married man?¡± ¡°We are partners!¡± Belle cried. ¡°Partners in crime, perhaps.¡± Isolde walked closer. She noticed something. Belle had pinned her hair up. On her left shoulder de, just visible beneath the strap of the blue dress, was a smudge of beige. Concealer. It was rubbing off against the fabric. Underneath the makeup, there was ink. Isolde narrowed her eyes. ¡°You missed a spot.¡± ¡°What?¡± Belle reached for her shoulder. ¡°The makeup,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Covering your¡­ birthmark?¡± Belle looked panicked. ¡°Yes. A birthmark. It¡¯s ugly.¡± Grayson shifted his weight. He looked nervous. . . . Chapter 117 Chapter 117: Isolde turned something over in her mind. Five years ago ¡ª the night she told Grayson she was pregnant. He hade homete, smelling of antiseptic. He said he had donated blood. Butter she noticed a bandage on his ribs. He said he had scratched himself. Yearster, she discovered the tattoo. Coordinates. 40.7577 N, 73.9857 W. Times Square. He imed it was where SkyLine¡¯s first billboard had gone up ¡ª the symbol of his empire. Isolde looked at the smudge on Belle¡¯s shoulder, then at Grayson. His own tattoo had softened and blurred at the edges over the years. The ink beneath Belle¡¯s concealer appeared too dark, the lines too sharp. ¡°Let me help you fix that,¡± Isolde said, reaching out. ??ow?????????? ??DF?? ??????§Ö ???? ??????n??????l??.§ã??m ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± Belle shrieked, backing away. ¡°Why so jumpy?¡± Isolde smiled coldly. ¡°Unless it isn¡¯t a birthmark.¡± Grayson stepped between them. ¡°Isolde, stop it. Leave her alone.¡± ¡°You¡¯re protecting her,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°Why?¡± She looked at Grayson¡¯s ribs, hidden beneath his suit. Then back at Belle¡¯s shoulder. The realization hit her like a physical blow. ¡°They match,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was barely audible. Grayson went pale. ¡°What matches?¡± Pierre asked, still holding his pincushion. ¡°The tattoos,¡± Isolde said, her eyes locking onto Grayson¡¯s. ¡°You have matching tattoos.¡± The silence in the VIP suite was deafening. Isolde moved faster than anyone expected. She sidestepped Grayson and grabbed the strap of Belle¡¯s dress. ¡°Isolde, no!¡± Grayson lunged. Toote. Isolde yanked the strap down. There it was. Inked in ck, stark against Belle¡¯s skin. 40.7577 N, 73.9857 W. The exact same font. The exact same size. Isolde felt the floor tilt beneath her. ¡°When?¡± she asked. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Hollow. Belle pulled her strap back up, her face flushed with defiance. ¡°College. We got them in college.¡± ¡°Liar,¡± Isolde said. She looked at the ink. It wasn¡¯t faded. ¡°The lines are too crisp. That ink isn¡¯t ten years old. Four years? Five?¡± ¡°It was a solidarity thing,¡± Grayson stammered. ¡°When SkyLine went public.¡± ¡°SkyLine went public the month Effie was born,¡± Isolde said. She looked at Grayson. ¡°I was inbor for twenty hours. You werete. You said you were in a meeting.¡± Grayson looked at the floor. ¡°You were getting tattooed with her,¡± Isolde said. ¡°While I was pushing your daughter into the world, you were branding yourself with your mistress.¡± ¡°It¡¯s tonic!¡± Belle cried. ¡°We are soulmates! It transcends the physical¡ª¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± Isolde said. She didn¡¯t shout. She didn¡¯t raise her voice at all. She simply spoke with the absolute, crushing weight of truth. ¡°tonic soulmates don¡¯t hide it. tonic soulmates don¡¯t lie for five years.¡± She turned back to Grayson. She searched herself for anger. For hurt. There was nothing. Only disgust. The specific, detached revulsion of finding something rotten in something she had once loved. ¡°You are small,¡± Isolde said to him. ¡°You are so incredibly small.¡± ¡°Isolde, please.¡± Grayson reached for her. ¡°It didn¡¯t mean anything.¡± ¡°It meant everything,¡± Isolde said. ¡°It meant that every time you took off your shirt, you wereughing at me. Every time you held Effie, you were lying.¡± . . . Chapter 118 Chapter 118: She turned to Pierre. ¡°I¡¯m taking the ck dress. Charge it to his card.¡± She lifted the garment bag from the rack. ¡°Consider it a tattoo removal fee.¡± ¡°Effie, let¡¯s go.¡± Effie took her hand without a word. They walked out of the suite. Grayson didn¡¯t follow. He couldn¡¯t. He stood pinned to the spot by the full weight of his own shame. Outside, the rain had stopped. The air was clean. ??§Ö?? ???????????? c??§Ñpt????s §à?? ??????????v??l??.?????? Isolde took a slow, deep breath. She pulled out her burner phone and typed. He broke the deal. Belle is here. The brooch is forfeit. Execute contingency n. Burn it all down. She sent it to And and slipped the phone into her pocket. Then she straightened her spine, took Effie¡¯s hand, and walked. The Lancaster Estate in the Hamptons was a sprawling monstrosity of stone and ivy, lit up like anding strip. As her hired town car approached the gates, Isolde¡¯s burner phone buzzed. A text from And. Contingency sessful. Roth legal filed an emergency injunction, voiding the consignment on grounds of duress. My security team has the package. It¡¯s waiting for you at the apartment. Relief washed through her, cold and sharp. The brooch was safe. The final shackle was broken. The car pulled up to the red carpet. Ahead of them, Grayson¡¯s limousine was unloading. Grayson stepped out. He looked rattled. He reached back into the car, and Belle emerged in the blue dress, clinging to his arm like a barnacle. The shbulbs erupted. ¡°Mr. Lancaster! Is this the new Mrs. Lancaster?¡± ¡°Are the rumors true?¡± Grayson tried to pull away, but Belle held fast, beaming her practiced, stic smile. She was loving every second of it. This was her moment. Isolde waited until they were halfway down the carpet. ¡°Now,¡± she told the driver. She opened her own door and stepped out. The ck velvet dress absorbed the shbulbs. Her ck brace was stark against it. Her hair was slicked back, severe. She wore no jewelry except for a pair of diamond studs. She looked like a widow. A beautiful, dangerous widow. The photographers swung their lenses. ¡°Isolde! Isolde, over here!¡± She walked with Effie. She didn¡¯t smile. She didn¡¯t wave. A reporter thrust a microphone toward her face. ¡°Mrs. Lancaster! Are you and Grayson separating?¡± Isolde stopped. She looked directly into the camera. ¡°I am not Mrs. Lancaster,¡± she said, her voice carrying clearly over the crowd. ¡°I am Ms. Carson. And yes, the divorce is pending.¡± Gasps rippled through the gathered press. Grayson turned at the top of the stairs. He looked furious. Isolde walked past him without a nce. Inside, the ballroom was suffocatingly opulent ¡ª crystal chandeliers, mountains of shrimp, rivers of champagne. The majordomo, a man named Higgins who had known Isolde for years, looked apologetic as she approached. ¡°Madam¡­ I¡¯m afraid¡­¡± He held the seating chart at his side. ¡°What is it, Higgins?¡± ¡°Mr. Lancaster ¡ª the elder Mr. Lancaster ¡ª insisted.¡± He extended the chart. ¡°You are at Table 18.¡± . . . Chapter 119 Chapter 119: Isolde looked at the chart. Table 18 was tucked in the far back corner, beside the swinging doors of the kitchen. It was the table reserved for distant cousins and the disgraced. Table 1 was front and center. Grayson, Belle, and Alistair. Across the room, she could see Grayson arguing quietly with his father, gesturing toward the seating arrangement, his face tight with frustration. Alistair simply shook his head ¡ª a final, dismissive gesture. Grayson¡¯s n to present a united front had been overruled by the family patriarch. ¡°Of course,¡± Isolde said, smiling thinly. ¡°He wants to put me in the trash.¡± ????a?? §Ö????????o???? ???? ??ea??????? ???? ??a???o???????.c??m ¡°I can try to have it moved¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°It¡¯s perfect. I have a better view of the stage from there.¡± She walked to Table 18 and settled in beside Effie. From across the ballroom, Belle raised her champagne flute in a slow, mocking toast. Isolde didn¡¯t respond. She checked her watch. Eight o¡¯clock. And was five minutes away. Alistair Lancaster was wheeled onto the stage. He was eighty years old, shriveled by time, though his eyes remained sharp and cruel as ever. He gave a speech about family and legacy. He did not mention Isolde once. ¡°And now,¡± the MC announced, ¡°the presentation of gifts.¡± This was Lancaster tradition ¡ª a public disy of wealth and loyalty, performed with pageantry for every assembled guest. Daron McKnight presented a gold polo trophy. A cousin offered a vintage watch. Then it was Grayson and Belle¡¯s turn. They walked up together, Belle carrying a box of polished purple wood. ¡°Happy birthday, Alistair,¡± Belle purred into the microphone. ¡°I found this at Sotheby¡¯s ¡ª a Ming Dynasty Jade Buddha, for your health.¡± The crowd murmured with admiration. It was worth at least half a million dors. Alistair nodded, visibly pleased. ¡°Exquisite.¡± Daron seized the microphone. He was drunk. ¡°And what about the wife? Where is Isolde? Did she bring anything besides her bad attitude?¡± The spotlight swung to Table 18. Isolde sat there, caught in the harsh light, her hands empty. The room tittered. ¡°She¡¯s broke,¡± someone whispered. Isolde rose. She smoothed the front of her ck dress, took Effie¡¯s hand, and walked toward the stage. The clicking of her heels was the only sound in the room. She stopped at the base of the stairs and looked up at Alistair. ¡°I didn¡¯t bring a trinket,¡± Isolde said, her voice carrying clearly across the ballroom without the aid of a microphone. ¡°I brought you a future.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Alistair grunted. ¡°Look outside.¡± Isolde gestured toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking thewn. ¡°Fireworks?¡± Belle scoffed. ¡°How tacky.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Not fireworks.¡± At that moment, the double doors of the ballroom burst open. And Roth strode in, nked by two men in military uniforms ¡ª generals. He carried a leather portfolio in one hand. ¡°Happy birthday, Mr. Lancaster,¡± And said, moving to Isolde¡¯s side. ¡°On behalf of Isolde Carson and Orbital Systems, we present to you the future of your national defense.¡± ¡°What contract?¡± Grayson stepped forward, his expression clouded with confusion. . . . Chapter 120 Chapter 120: ¡°The Phoenix-X7,¡± Isolde said. ¡°The fighter jet you¡¯ve been trying to build for three years ¡ª the one Belle couldn¡¯t figure out.¡± She took the portfolio from And and tossed it onto the stage. Itnded squarely at Grayson¡¯s feet. ¡°I solved the structural integrity w. The titanium ribbing is now integrated into a proprietary fuel system that optimizes thrust withoutpromising the airframe. And through my longstanding rtionship with the Department of Defense, Orbital has just secured the sole-source, ten-billion-dor development contract. It is being executed under the banner of Carson Dynamics, now a subsidiary of Orbital Systems.¡± The room erupted. ¡°Ten billion?¡± ¡°She controls the Phoenix program?¡± Grayson picked up the contract. His hands were shaking. He read the first page. Licensor: Sophia (Isolde Carson). He looked at her, his face a mask of pure horror. He had known she was Sophia ¡ª but he had never believed she could marshal this kind of power, this fast. He had always assumed her genius was a tool he owned, not a weapon she could aim. ¡°You ¡ª how?¡± Grayson whispered, his voice cracking. ¡°The Department of Defense¡­ authorization like this takes years. It¡¯s impossible.¡± ?????????????? y???? ??§à?¡¯?? ????t ??o???? o?? ?????????v??????.c??m ¡°I am Sophia,¡± Isolde said, her voice ringing with absolute rity. It was not a confession. It was a coronation. ¡°My clearance and my designs were pre-approved years ago through Professor Nelson¡¯s program. All I needed was a corporate partner I could trust. That jet is mine, Grayson. You were trying to sell a stolen car. I just sold the factory.¡± She turned to Belle. ¡°Nice Buddha,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I hope it protects you from thewsuitsing your way.¡± She reached down and took Effie¡¯s hand. ¡°Happy birthday, Alistair,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯m taking my daughter home. She has school in the morning.¡± Then she turned and walked out. Behind her, the Lancaster legacy began to crumble. The heavy oak doors of the ballroom mmed shut behind Isolde, muffling the chaotic murmur of the guests within. But the silence of the foyer was short-lived. Thunder cracked directly overhead ¡ª a sound so violent it vibrated through the marble floor beneath her heels. Isolde tightened her grip on Effie¡¯s hand. Her daughter was trembling, her small face pressed into the ck velvet of Isolde¡¯s skirt. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Isolde whispered, though her own heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The adrenaline of the confrontation was fading, leaving behind a cold, shaky exhaustion. Her left arm, encased in its ck brace, throbbed steadily in time with the thunder. They stepped out onto the portico, and the world dissolved into gray chaos. The wind was a physical weight, shoving them back toward the doors. Rainshed sideways, turning the driveway into a river. The valet stand had blown over entirely. Isolde¡¯s driver, a man named Carl whom And had hired, came running from the side entrance, soaked to the bone. He had no umbre ¡ª it would have been useless. ¡°Ms. Carson!¡± he shouted over the gale. ¡°We can¡¯t leave!¡± A drop of cold dread slid down Isolde¡¯s spine. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°The bridge,¡± Carl yelled, wiping rain from his eyes. ¡°Lightning hit the old oak. It took out the stone bridge. The main road is blocked. Security has locked down the perimeter ¡ª mudslide warnings.¡± Isolde stared at the dark, twisting driveway. It was their only way out. The Lancaster estate was a fortress, and now it was a prison. ¡°There has to be another way,¡± Isolde said, her voice rising. ¡°I cannot stay here.¡± . . . Chapter 121 Chapter 121: ¡°There isn¡¯t, ma¡¯am. Not until the storm breaks and they can clear the tree. It could be morning.¡± Effie let out a small, terrified sob. ¡°Mommy, I want to go home.¡± Isolde knelt, ignoring the damp stone soaking into her dress, and cupped her daughter¡¯s face in her hands. ¡°I know, baby. I know.¡± The sharp click of heels on stone made her look up. Beatrice Lancaster stood in the doorway, wrapped in a thick wool shawl, her expression grim. She did not look like a woman who had just watched her family¡¯s legacy dismantled in public. She looked like a general surveying a battlefield. ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool, Isolde,¡± Beatrice said, her voice cutting cleanly through the wind. ¡°Driving in this is suicide. You have a child to think of.¡± Isolde rose, stepping in front of Effie. ¡°I¡¯d rather sleep in the car.¡± ¡°And let Effie freeze?¡± Beatrice raised an eyebrow. ¡°The West Wing is empty. It has its own heating system, separate from the main house. You won¡¯t see Grayson. You won¡¯t see anyone.¡± Isolde looked at the rain, then at her daughter¡¯s blue lips. Maternal instinct overrode the bile rising in her throat. ¡°I need a key,¡± Isolde said. ¡°A physical key. For the inside of the door.¡± Beatrice nodded once. ¡°I¡¯ll get it from the housekeeper.¡± ????da????s §Ö??e??§å w§Öek on ??a????§à????????.??§à?? They had to pass through the edge of the main hall to reach the West Wing corridor. The party had disintegrated entirely. The power flickered on generator backup, and waiters moved through the dimness with shlights. Grayson was standing at the bottom of the grand staircase. His tie was loosened, and a ss of amber liquid dangled from his hand. He looked like a man who had been punched squarely in the gut and was still deciding what to do about it. He saw them. His eyes locked onto Isolde ¡ª not with anger, but with a murky, drunken confusion. He took a step forward, swaying slightly. ¡°Isolde¡­¡± She didn¡¯t break stride. She kept her gaze fixed on the corridor ahead, her hand mped firmly on Effie¡¯s shoulder, and walked past him as though he were a piece of furniture. From the shadows near the restrooms, Belle emerged. Her mascara had run in dark rivulets down her cheeks, giving her the look of a sad, melted doll. She saw Grayson staring after Isolde, and her face twisted. ¡°Gray,¡± Belle whined, reaching for his arm. ¡°I¡¯m cold. The power is out in the powder room.¡± Grayson didn¡¯t look at her. He shook her hand from his sleeve as though brushing off an insect. ¡°Go find a room, Belle,¡± he snapped, his voice slurring. ¡°Leave me alone.¡± Belle recoiled, her mouth falling open. She stood there, humiliated, watching him watch his ex-wife walk away. Beatrice led Isolde and Effie down the long, drafty corridor to the West Wing and opened a heavy wooden door at the far end of the hall. . . . Chapter 122 Chapter 122: ¡°Here,¡± she said, pressing a brass key into Isolde¡¯s palm. ¡°The electronic system for this wing is firewalled from the main housework. Grayson¡¯s codes won¡¯t work here. This key operates a secondary, purely mechanical deadbolt ¡ª no one has a copy of this specific key except the head of security, and he¡¯s at the gate.¡± Isolde took it. The metal was cold. Beatrice lingered in the doorway a moment. ¡°You did well tonight,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Alistair respects strength. Even when it destroys him.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do it for his respect,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I did it for my daughter.¡± Beatrice looked at Effie, then gave a single, quiet nod. ¡°Sleep well, Isolde.¡± Isolde closed the door. She turned the deadbolt. Then she dragged a heavy armchair in front of it. Outside, the storm raged, battering the windows with relentless fury. But inside, the silence was profound ¡ª thick and still, filled with the ghosts of the marriage she had just publicly buried. The digital clock on the bedside table blinked 2:00 AM. Effie was asleep in the center of the massive king-sized bed, curled into a tight ball. She had taken a motion sickness pill earlier, and it had knocked her outpletely. Isolde could not sleep. She sat in the wingback chair by the window, watching the lightning illuminate the flooded grounds below. In her right hand she held a heavy, ornate letter opener she had slipped from a side table in the main hall as they walked past. It was not a weapon of war, but its silver point was sharp enough. Her left arm ached with a dull, persistent throb ¡ª a quiet reminder of her vulnerability. ??????????e?? ?????? ??§à??¡¯t p??t d????? ??? ??????????ve??s.c???? Across the estate, in the main library, the storm was entirely internal. Grayson sat in his father¡¯s leather chair, the bottle of Macan 25 nearly empty beside him. The room was dark, lit only by the dying embers in the firece. Daron McKnight paced the rug with a drink in hand, wearing a groove into the Persian wool. ¡°You have to admit, she yed you,¡± Daron said, his voice grating. ¡°Ten billion dors, Gray. She walked out of here with the GDP of a small country in her pocket.¡± Grayson stared at the amber liquid in his ss. ¡°She looked¡­ different.¡± ¡°She looked like a bitch,¡± Daron spat. ¡°She humiliated you. And that contract ¡ª she stole it. She used your resources, yourbs.¡± ¡°No,¡± Grayson murmured. ¡°She used her brain. I just¡­ I never looked at her work. I never looked.¡± He closed his eyes. The image of Isolde in that ck velvet dress burned behind his eyelids. She was terrifying. She was magnificent. She was his wife. ¡°She¡¯s bluffing about the divorce,¡± Daron said, pouring himself more scotch. ¡°She¡¯s doing this to drive up the settlement. She wants you to chase her. Women like that ¡ª they need to be conquered.¡± Grayson stood. The room tilted. He steadied himself against the desk. ¡°Conquered,¡± he repeated. The word tasted like ash and iron. ¡°Go talk to her,¡± Daron goaded. ¡°She¡¯s in the West Wing. Trapped. She can¡¯t run tonight.¡± Grayson looked at the door. The alcohol had stripped away his logic, leaving only a raw, possessive instinct. She was in his house. She was wearing his name. . . . Chapter 123 Chapter 123: ¡°I¡¯m going to ask her,¡± Grayson slurred. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask her why.¡± He stumbled out of the library. Belle was waiting in the hallway, wrapped in a nket. She looked small and pathetic. ¡°Gray?¡± she whispered. ¡°Are youing to bed?¡± Grayson looked at her ¡ª really looked at her. The smudged makeup. The desperate eyes. The tattoo on her shoulder that suddenly felt like a brand of shame. ¡°Get out of my way,¡± he growled. ¡°But Gray¡ª¡± ¡°I said move!¡± He pushed past her, nearly knocking her into the wall. He walked down the long corridor toward the West Wing. Lightning shed through the windows, casting long, distorted shadows across the floor. He reached the door. He tried the handle. Locked. ¡°Isolde,¡± he said, leaning his forehead against the wood. ¡°Open the door.¡± ???????????? §ã§à????????i???? ??n ??a????????e????.??§à?? Inside, Isolde went perfectly still. She tightened her grip on the letter opener. Her phoney on the nightstand, its microphone discreetly activated and recording. ¡°Go away, Grayson,¡± she said, her voice low and steady. ¡°I need to talk to you.¡± He rattled the handle violently. ¡°Open it. It¡¯s my house.¡± ¡°Not this room,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Not tonight.¡± ¡°You¡¯re my wife,¡± Grayson shouted, striking the door with his fist. ¡°Stop locking me out! Stop hiding!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not hiding,¡± Isolde replied, her voice dangerously calm. ¡°I¡¯m documenting your behavior for the police.¡± Grayson let out a harsh, brokenugh. He fumbled in his pocket. His master key card was useless against the firewalled system, exactly as Beatrice had said. He pulled out his phone and pressed the contact for the head of security. After a brief, angry exchange in which he threatened the man¡¯s job, a text arrived with an override code. Isolde heard the faint beep of the electronic lock disengaging. Cold, sharp panic pierced her chest. She rose from the chair and positioned herself between the door and the bed where Effie slept. Grayson tried the handle again. It turned ¡ª but the door didn¡¯t open. It struck something solid. The mechanical deadbolt. ¡°What the hell?¡± she heard him mutter. A heavy thud shook the door. He was kicking it. Another blownded, this one splintering the wood around the lock. The door pushed open a few inches before it met the armchair Isolde had dragged in front of it. ¡°Isolde¡­¡± Grayson¡¯s voice drifted through the crack, thick with whiskey and entitlement. Isolde raised the letter opener. The door groaned as Grayson threw his weight against it, shoving the armchair across the rug with a screeching scrape that vanished beneath a p of thunder. He stumbled into the room, blinking in the dim light. Isolde stood ten feet away. Her posture was perfect, her breathing controlled. The silver letter opener in her right hand caught a sh of lightning from the window. Grayson didn¡¯t see the weapon. He only saw her silhouette. He took a step forward, swaying. ¡°There you are.¡± ¡°Get out,¡± Isolde said. Her voice wasn¡¯t loud, but it had the cutting edge of a diamond. . . . Chapter 124 Chapter 124: Grayson ignored her. He kicked the door shut behind him, sealing them in. The air instantly felt suffocating, dense with the smell of expensive scotch and rain. ¡°Why are you so far away?¡± he murmured, moving toward her with uncoordinated steps. ¡°You look incredible tonight. That dress¡­¡± He reached out a hand, his fingers grasping at the air between them. Isolde stepped back, keeping the letter opener hidden in the folds of her skirt. She needed him close enough to be threatened, but not close enough to grab her. ¡°You¡¯re drunk, Grayson. You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing.¡± ¡°I know exactly what I¡¯m doing,¡± he whispered. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes ssy and unfocused. He tilted his head, regarding her with a strange, soft expression that made Isolde¡¯s skin crawl. ¡°I missed you. I know I messed up. But we can fix it ¡ª you and me.¡± ??§à??¡¯t m??s ????? ????l????se?? §à? ????????§à??e??s.?????? He lunged forward, arms reaching for her waist. Isolde sidestepped, but he was heavy. He caught her shoulder and pulled her into his chest, burying his face in her neck with a slow, deep inhale. ¡°You smell so good,¡± he mumbled against her skin. ¡°I hate you¡­ Belle.¡± The name hung in the air, suspended in the silence between thunderps. Isolde went rigid. It wasn¡¯t a mistake. It wasn¡¯t a surprise. It was the pathetic, predictable truth rising to the surface from the bottom of a whiskey bottle. This was not the drunken confession of a man who missed his lover ¡ª it was the resentful snarl of a king who feared the queen who had just checkmated him. The name was not a slip of the tongue. It was an usation. A cold, white rity settled in Isolde¡¯s chest. Not rage. rity. It wasn¡¯t heartbreak, either ¡ª heartbreak required a heart, and hers had turned to stone hours ago. What she felt was pure, unadulterated revulsion. She didn¡¯t merely push him. She shoved him with every ounce of strength in her body. Grayson stumbled backward, his heel catching on the rug. He crashed into the heavy oak dresser, and a crystal water pitcher toppled from its surface and shattered on the floor. ¡°What the hell¡ª¡± Grayson shook his head, looking up. He froze. The tip of the silver letter opener was an inch from his nose. Isolde held it with a perfectly steady hand. Her eyes were dark voids. ¡°Look at me,¡± she hissed. ¡°Look at me and tell me who I am.¡± Grayson blinked, the fog clearing slightly. He took in the ck dress. The brace. The de. ¡°Isolde?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°Isolde. The woman whose design you stole. The woman whose daughter you ignored. The woman you just called by a name you have no right to speak.¡± Grayson¡¯s face drained of color. ¡°I didn¡¯t ¡ª I wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°You did,¡± Isolde said. She stepped forward, the de unwavering. ¡°And that is why you are going to turn around, walk out that door, and never touch me again.¡± ¡°Isolde, put that down. You¡¯re being dramatic.¡± . . . Chapter 125 Chapter 125: ¡°Dramatic?¡± Sheughed ¡ª a short, humorless sound, more terrifying than silence. ¡°If you take one more step toward me, Grayson, I will carve my name into your chest so you never forget it again.¡± Grayson looked into her eyes. He saw the killer there. He saw the Valkyrie. Fear, cold and fully sobering, washed through him. He raised both hands in surrender. ¡°Okay,¡± he breathed. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m going.¡± He backed away slowly, keeping his eyes on the de, and fumbled for the doorknob behind him. ¡°Get out,¡± Isoldemanded. Grayson opened the door and stumbled into the hallway. ??r???????????? ??ov§Öl?? §à?? ??§Ñ????o??e????.§ão?? Isolde mmed it shut. She turned the deadbolt. Then she wedged the chair firmly back under the handle. She did not put down the letter opener. She carried it back to the wingback chair by the window and sat down, watching the door in silence until the sun came up. The storm ended at dawn. Isolde hadn¡¯t slept. Her eyes felt gritty, but her mind was razor-sharp. She packed their small bag with one hand while Effie stirred in the center of the bed, rubbing her eyes against the pale morning light. ¡°Mommy? Is the storm over?¡± ¡°Yes, baby. The storm is over.¡± Isolde checked the hallway. It was empty. They walked to the main dining room. Isolde had no appetite, but she needed to make a statement. She was not going to slip out the back door like a thief. She was walking out the front door like a queen. Alistair Lancaster was already seated at the head of the table, eating grapefruit with a silver spoon. He looked as though he hadn¡¯t slept either. Grayson sat to his right, wearing sunsses indoors. His skin was gray, and he nursed a cup of ck coffee with the careful deliberateness of a man whose head was made of ss. Belle was not there. Isolde walked in, her heels clicking against the parquet floor. She did not sit. She walked directly to the table, and Grayson looked up. He flinched when he saw her. Isolde reached into her pocket, pulled out the silver letter opener, and dropped it onto the table. It ttered loudly against the fine china and spun to a stop directly in front of Grayson. Alistair set down his spoon. He looked at the de, then at Isolde. ¡°A souvenir?¡± Alistair asked dryly. ¡°A precaution,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Your grandson decided to pay me a visitst night. He used his authority to force a security override and entered my locked room. Mywyer has the audio file of the entire incident.¡± Alistair turned slowly toward Grayson. ¡°Is this true?¡± Grayson rubbed his temples. ¡°I just wanted to talk to her. I was worried.¡± ¡°Worried?¡± Isolde scoffed. ¡°You were drunk. And you mistook me for your girlfriend ¡ª you called me ¡®Belle¡¯ while trying to put your hands on me.¡± Grayson choked on his coffee. ¡°I did not assault you. I tried to hug you.¡± ¡°Unwanted physical contact is assault, Grayson. Look it up.¡± Alistair mmed his spoon down. ¡°Enough.¡± . . . Chapter 126 Chapter 126: The old man fixed Grayson with a stare of pure disgust. ¡°You are a disgrace. You cannot manage your own vices, let alone apany.¡± He snapped his fingers. The butler, Higgins, stepped forward carrying a thick cream envelope. Alistair slid it across the table toward Effie. ¡°For the girl,¡± Alistair grunted. ¡°An education trust, independent of the Lancaster estate. Grayson cannot touch it. I cannot touch it. It is irrevocable.¡± Isolde looked at the envelope. It was guilt money. It was hush money. She took it. ¡°Thank you,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Consider it a down payment for the damages. She¡¯ll need it.¡± ¡°Isolde.¡± Grayson rose from his chair, swaying slightly. ¡°Please. Don¡¯t go like this. We can work out a settlement ¡ª thewyers don¡¯t need to be involved.¡± ¡°Thewyers are already involved, Grayson,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And the press. And the Department of Defense.¡± She took Effie¡¯s hand. ¡°Goodbye, Alistair. Try not to let him burn the house down before you die.¡± ????n?? ??????§Ö?? PD???? ???? ??a??n§à??????s.co?? She turned and walked out. The heavy front doors stood open. Sunlight fell clean and sharp across the wet pavement, and Isolde stepped through the doorway and drew a long, slow breath of cold morning air. She was free. The driveway was lined with vans. As Isolde¡¯s car ¡ª the one And had sent ¡ª crawled through the gates, the press surged forward. ¡°Ms. Carson! Ms. Carson!¡± ¡°Is the rumor of a split with Lancaster true?¡± ¡°What does your identity as Sophia mean for Skyline?¡± Isolde put on her sunsses. She did not roll down the window. She simply stared ahead, her face a mask of perfect indifference. Inside the estate, the mood was funereal. Alistair sat in his study. Grayson stood before him like a schoolboy called to ount. Alistair mmed a letter down on his desk ¡ª it bore the letterhead of Orbital Systems¡¯ legal department. ¡°I received this an hour ago. A formal demand for the return of your grandmother¡¯s brooch. They im it is a family heirloom of the Carsons, not the Lancasters. Is this true?¡± Grayson¡¯s blood ran cold. And was moving faster than he had anticipated. ¡°It¡¯s¡­plicated.¡± ¡°Find it and give it back to her,¡± Alistair said, his voice dropping to a low growl. ¡°That woman is dangerous. She is building a narrative, and right now we look like thieves. Do not give her any more ammunition.¡± Grayson nodded numbly and walked out. He headed toward the staircase, intending to find Belle and retrieve the brooch. Belle was sitting on the steps, weeping softly into a tissue. She looked up when she heard him approach. ¡°Gray,¡± she sniffled. ¡°Is she gone?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Belle stood. She read the grimness on his face at once. ¡°Gray¡­st night was awful. You were screaming in your sleep. I was so scared.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Grayson muttered, his mind already elsewhere. ¡°Belle, the brooch. I need it back.¡± Belle¡¯s tears stopped instantly. Her face hardened. ¡°What? Why? You gave it to me.¡± ¡°My grandfather is demanding I return it. Legally, she has a im ¡ª¡± . . . Chapter 127 Chapter 127: ¡°She has everything!¡± Belle¡¯s voice rose sharply. ¡°She has the contract, the fame ¡ª all I have is you. And that brooch makes me feel like I belong here. Like I won.¡± She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. ¡°Please, Gray. Don¡¯t take it from me. Let me keep it just a little while longer. No one has to know.¡± Grayson looked at the desperation on her face and felt a wave of pure exhaustion wash over him. He just wanted the crying to stop. He just wanted someone to look at him with adoration instead of contempt. The legal demand felt abstract and distant; Belle¡¯s tears were immediate and real. ¡°Fine,¡± Grayson sighed, making a fatal decision. ¡°Keep it in the room. Do not wear it outside.¡± He would tell his grandfather it was in a bank vault. Belle gasped. A triumphant smile broke through her tears. ¡°Oh, Gray ¡ª it¡¯s perfect!¡± She threw her arms around his neck. ¡°I knew you loved me more than her. I knew it.¡± Grayson held her, but his eyes were open, fixed on the empty hallway where Isolde had walked away. A sick knot tightened in his stomach. He already knew he had just made a mistake. A massive one. Meanwhile, in the back of the town car, Effie was pulling open the envelope Alistair had given her. ¡°Mommy, it¡¯s just paper,¡± she said, disappointed. ???????o??e?? ?????? s??o??????s ???? ????????o???????.§ão?? Isolde looked at the document. It was a trust deed for five million dors. ¡°It¡¯s a start, baby,¡± Isolde said, her voice quiet and even. ¡°It¡¯s the first brick in the wall we¡¯re going to build.¡± The car pulled up to Harper Vance¡¯s apartment building in the city ¡ª a modest brownstone that, to Isolde, looked like a castle. Harper was waiting on the stoop. She ran down and pulled Isolde into a hug, careful of the brace. ¡°You¡¯re trending,¡± Harper whispered close to her ear. ¡°Team Isolde is bigger than the Super Bowl.¡± Isolde smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s go inside. I have a war to n.¡± Harper¡¯s apartment smelled of coffee and old books. It was cluttered, warm, and safe. Isolde sat at the kitchen table, herptop open, having changed into yoga pants and an oversized sweater. ¡°Okay,¡± Isolde said, setting her phone on speaker. ¡°Arthur? Are you ready?¡± Arthur ¡ª the most ruthless divorce attorney in New York ¡ª answered immediately. ¡°The papers are drafted. Cruelty, adultery, attempted fraud, and we¡¯ve addedst night¡¯s uwful entry. It¡¯s a masterpiece.¡± ¡°Serve him,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Today. Now.¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°He has a board meeting at 2:00 PM. Skyline Headquarters. Conference Room A.¡± ¡°Public,¡± Arthur chuckled. ¡°I like your style.¡± At 2:15 PM, the ss doors of the Skyline conference room swung open. Grayson was standing at the head of the table, attempting to exin to twelve angry board members why their stock had dropped fifteen percent since the g. ¡°We are stabilizing the narrative,¡± Grayson was saying. ¡°The Phoenix project was a misunderstanding.¡± A short, balding man in a trench coat walked in. He did not look like a board member. ¡°Grayson Lancaster?¡± the man asked. Grayson stopped. ¡°Who are you? Security!¡± . . . Chapter 128 Chapter 128: The man walked directly up to Grayson and pped a thick blue folder onto the polished mahogany table. ¡°You¡¯ve been served,¡± the man said. Then he turned and left. The room went dead silent. Grayson stared at the folder. Thebel read: Carson v. Lancaster. R?????? ?????????????? ??????e??????p????§à???? §à?? ??§Ñ?????????????.??§àm ¡°Get out,¡± Grayson hissed, though the man was already gone. One of the board members ¡ª a woman named Eleanor ¡ª leaned forward. ¡°Is that¡­ divorce papers?¡± Grayson snatched the folder and tore it open. He scanned the first page. Petitioner requests sole legal and physical custody of Euphemia Lancaster. Petitioner waives all rights to spousal support. Petitioner waives all rights to Lancaster Estate assets. Petitioner demands the immediate return of personal property: One Emerald Brooch. Grayson went still. He had seen the initial filing weeks ago, but this was different. This was a re-filing ¡ª an amendment. After securing a ten-billion-dor contract, she still wanted nothing. Not a single share. Not a dor of his fortune. It was not a legal strategy. It was a deration of contempt. She was telling the world, in in legalnguage, that his entire empire was worthless to her. ¡°She¡¯s bluffing,¡± Daron McKnight whispered at his side. ¡°This is a public performance. She¡¯s trying to look noble for the media ¡ª probably because she¡¯s got a backer. That And Roth.¡± A vein pulsed in Grayson¡¯s temple. ¡°Is there someone else?¡± He pulled out his phone and dialed Isolde. The number you have reached is no longer in service. She had changed her number. Grayson hurled his phone against the wall. It shattered. ¡°Meeting adjourned!¡± he screamed. The lobby of Orbital Systems was buzzing the next morning. Isolde walked in wearing a crisp white suit ¡ª no ck today. And met her at the elevator. ¡°Ready?¡± ¡°Born ready,¡± Isolde said. They rode up to the top floor, where the legal team was already waiting. The contracty open on the table. Chief Systems Architect & Executive Partner. Sry: $1 Million Base. Signing Bonus: 5% of the Phoenix-X7 contract¡¯s profit, paid over the project¡¯s lifetime. Equity: 10% stake in Orbital Systems, vesting over four years. Isolde braced the thick stack of pages with her left arm, the pressure sending a dull ache up to her shoulder. With her right hand, she picked up the pen and signed: Isolde Carson. ¡°Wee to the team, Sophia,¡± And said, smiling. ¡°The world already knows I¡¯m Sophia,¡± Isolde said, her voice steady. ¡°Now we need to show them what Sophia can do. What¡¯s the media n for my first official week?¡± She spent the morning setting up her office ¡ª a corner suite, all ss, overlooking the city. It wasrger than Grayson¡¯s office. At lunch, she stepped into the breakroom, where two junior engineers were huddled over a phone, giggling softly. ¡°Did you see it?¡± one whispered. ¡°The audacity.¡± ¡°See what?¡± Isolde asked, stepping up behind them. Both girls startled. ¡°Ms. Carson! Nothing ¡ª just Instagram.¡± ¡°Show me.¡± The girl hesitated, then held up the phone. . . . Chapter 129 Chapter 129: It was a post from Belle Escobar. The photo was a selfie ¡ª Belle in a car, oversized sunsses, a practiced pout. Pinned to thepel of her zer was the emerald brooch. The caption read: Some heirlooms just find their way to the rightful owner. Blessed. #LancasterLegacy #NewBeginnings. The blood drained from Isolde¡¯s face. He had given it to her. After Alistair ordered him to return it. After his ownwyers had surely warned him. He had given her grandmother¡¯s brooch to the woman who had helped destroy her marriage. Isolde took out her new phone and photographed the screen. ¡°Ms. Carson?¡± the engineer asked quietly. ¡°Are you okay?¡± ??????????o???? P????? f?????? §àn ????l??????????s.§ã???? Isolde handed the phone back. Her hand was perfectly steady. ¡°I¡¯m fantastic,¡± she said. ¡°And ¡ª get the legal team back in here. We¡¯re filing for an emergency injunction and adding a charge of contempt of court.¡± She walked back to her office. For the next forty-eight hours, Isolde lived in theb. She was working on the bid for the new Department of Defense satellite array. InnoTech ¡ª Cheryl Juarez¡¯spany, and Belle¡¯s mother¡¯s ¡ª was the mainpetitor. InnoTech was using a standard deployment mechanism. Isolde was designing something radical: an origami-inspired folding array that tripled the surface area. ¡°It¡¯s tooplex,¡± ire said, studying the simtion. ¡°The torque on these hinges is immense. If one fails, the whole thing fails.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t fail,¡± Isolde said, eyes fixed on the monitor. She had been dictatingplex equations to theputer for hours, her voice growing hoarse with overuse. Her left arm, propped on a cushion, throbbed relentlessly. ¡°I¡¯m redesigning the hinges. Run the stress simtion again, this time with a carbon nanotube alloy.¡± Every hour, she was forced to stop ¡ª leaning back with her eyes closed as a wave of white-hot pain radiated from her wrist to her shoulder, a sensation like ground ss turning in the joint. The medication could dull it, but never erase it. Her phone buzzed. It was the principal of Effie¡¯s new school. ¡°Ms. Carson? You need toe in. There¡¯s been an incident.¡± Isolde dropped everything. ¡°I¡¯m on my way.¡± She arrived at the private school in twenty minutes. Effie was sitting in the principal¡¯s office, her hair disheveled, a scratch marking one cheek. She was not crying. She looked fierce. Across from her sat a boy twice her size ¡ª Jason ¡ª sniffling, his face red with humiliation. ¡°Ms. Carson,¡± the principal sighed. ¡°There was a confrontation. Jason was showing other children pictures from the inte and telling Effie that her father had a new daddy.¡± Isolde looked at her daughter. Effie had never been confrontational in her life. ¡°What happened?¡± Isolde asked softly. ¡°He showed me a picture,¡± Effie said, her voice clear and trembling only slightly with anger. ¡°He said my daddy has a new family and my mommy is a loser who got kicked out. So I told him.¡± ¡°Told him what, dear?¡± the principal asked. Effie looked directly at Jason. ¡°I told him my mommy builds spaceships, and his daddy sells paper. I said my mommy is smarter.¡± . . . Chapter 130 Chapter 130: The boy¡¯s mother ¡ª a woman with an expression made rigid by too much Botox ¡ª rose to her feet. ¡°That is psychological bullying! My son is sensitive, and your daughter is a savage! He pushed her and she fell!¡± ¡°Your son was repeating nder,¡± Isolde said, her voice perfectly cold. ¡°And it appears my daughter responded with facts. He put his hands on her, and she got a scratch. If he bullies my daughter again, I won¡¯t teach her to use her words. I¡¯ll teach her to sue for defamation.¡± She took Effie¡¯s hand. ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± In the car, Isolde checked her phone. Belle had posted again. This time, she had tagged Isolde. The photo was taken inside the Penthouse. In the background, clearly visible, hung Isolde¡¯s favorite painting ¡ª a gift from her father. The caption read: Redecorating! Out with the old, in with the new. @IsoldeCarson ¡ª thanks for the space! Isolde stared at the screen. They were in the Penthouse. ¡°Driver,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Change of ns. Take us to 100 Central Park South.¡± ¡°Mommy?¡± Effie asked. ????n?? ?????????? ????Fs ???? ????l????????????.?????? ¡°We have some trash to take out,¡± Isolde said. The elevator opened directly into the Penthouse foyer. The main security codes had been changed, of course. But Grayson had forgotten who designed the system. Isolde pulled out her phone, her thumb moving across the screen with quiet precision. A simple script activated a ghost protocol she had embedded in the source code years ago, for exactly this kind of emergency. The electronic lock clicked open with a weing chime Grayson had never even known existed. She stepped inside. ¡°Hello?¡± a voice called from the living room. Isolde walked in. Belle was lying on the white sofa ¡ª Isolde¡¯s white sofa ¡ª eating strawberries. Kaiden ran in circles nearby, buzzing a toy drone close to the ceiling. Belle sat up and dropped a strawberry. It left a red stain blooming across the white fabric. ¡°How did you get in?¡± Belle shrieked. ¡°I have my ways,¡± Isolde said. ¡°This is still my legal residence until the divorce is final. You¡¯re trespassing.¡± ¡°Grayson said I could stay!¡± Belle stood and smoothed her dress. She was wearing the emerald brooch. Isolde¡¯s eyes fixed on it. ¡°Take it off,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Make me,¡± Belle smirked. ¡°Possession is nine-tenths of thew.¡± Isolde walked past her without another word, heading straight for the master bedroom. ¡°Hey ¡ª where are you going?¡± Belle ran after her. Isolde pushed the bedroom door open. The room was a disaster. Clothes nketed every surface ¡ª Belle¡¯s cheap, shy pieces tangled among Isolde¡¯s tailored suits as though they belonged there. Isolde reached into the closet and pulled out a ck trash bag. She began yanking Belle¡¯s clothes from the hangers. ¡°Stop it!¡± Belle screamed, grabbing Isolde¡¯s arm. Isolde spun around. She did not use her injured arm. She used her body weight, driving her shoulder forward and shoving Belle back hard. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me,¡± Isolde said. She swept an armful of dresses into the bag ¡ª sequins, polyester, feathers. ¡°You¡¯re crazy!¡± Belle yelled. ¡°Kaiden! Help!¡± Kaiden came running. He saw the woman he called Mommy being threatened, and his small face twisted with fury. . . . Chapter 131 Chapter 131: ¡°Go away, witch!¡± he shouted. He sent the drone straight at Isolde¡¯s head. The high-pitched whine of the motors was a gunshot in the quiet room. Isolde¡¯s heart lurched into her throat. Her vision narrowed to a point. For one split second she was not in the penthouse ¡ª she was on the pavement, the world spinning, the smell of burnt stic filling her lungs. The nerve endings in her left arm screamed with phantom pain, a searing echo of the real impact. She did not duck out of instinct. She moved with the cold, calcted precision of a survivor. The drone smashed into the mirror. ss shattered across the floor. ¡°You missed,¡± Isolde said, her voice a low growl. She tied the bag shut and dragged it toward the balcony doors. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Belle¡¯s voice climbed to a shriek. Isolde opened the doors. Wind from the river whipped through, catching her hair. She lifted the bag. It was heavy ¡ª packed with designer dresses and shoes. A sharp, agonizing pain tore through her injured left arm as she used her good shoulder and hip to lever the cumbersome weight up onto the railing, gritting her teeth against the fire radiating through her nerves. ¡°This is a no-dumping zone!¡± Belle cried. ¡°Exactly,¡± Isolde said. ¡°So I¡¯m removing the trash.¡± She drove the bag over the edge with her right hand and shoulder. ??????e???? ???? ?????????? ???? g??????§à???????.????m It fell forty stories. Belle screamed and rushed to the railing, watching her wardrobe plummet toward the street below. Belle was sobbing, clutching the railing. ¡°My Gi! My Prada!¡± ¡°You can go pick them up,¡± Isolde said, dusting off her hands. ¡°They¡¯re on the sidewalk.¡± She turned back to the room and walked to the safe. She punched in the code. It opened. Empty. Her dissertation. The leather-bound thesis containing her grandmother¡¯s sketches. It was gone. Isolde turned to Belle. Her voice was chillingly calm. ¡°Where is the book? The leather-bound book that was in here.¡± Belle wiped her nose, her expression turning spiteful. ¡°Oh, that old thing? I threw it out. It smelled like mildew.¡± Isolde did not react. This was not a surprise ¡ª it was the final move in a game she was already winning. She drew out her phone, her thumb hovering over the record button before she spoke again. ¡°So you¡¯re saying you threw it out?¡± Isolde asked, her voice level, angling the phone to capture Belle¡¯s face. ¡°Yeah. With the recycling. Last week,¡± Belle said smugly, certain she was scoring a point. ¡°To be clear,¡± Isolde continued, her tone shifting to that of awyer cross-examining a witness, ¡°you are admitting on record to taking a private, proprietary document from a locked safe and willfully disposing of it?¡± ¡°It was junk!¡± Isolde stopped the recording. A small,posed smile touched her lips. She crossed the room toward Belle, who flinched ¡ª but Isolde moved with surgical precision. She reached out and ripped the emerald brooch from Belle¡¯s dress. The pin tore the fabric clean through. ¡°Ow!¡± Belle yelped. . . . Chapter 132 Chapter 132: ¡°This is mine,¡± Isolde said, closing her fingers around the brooch. ¡°And that book ¡ª you just confessed to destroying key evidence in a billion-dor intellectual propertywsuit. It¡¯s a federal crime, Belle. It¡¯s called spoliation of evidence.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Grayson!¡± Belle screamed. Grayson came running into the room, alerted by the doorman and still catching his breath. He took in the scene at once ¡ª the shattered mirror, the open safe, Belle in tears, Isolde holding the brooch. ¡°What is going on?¡± Grayson demanded. ¡°She threw my clothes off the balcony!¡± Belle wailed. ¡°And she stole the brooch!¡± ¡°I repossessed my property,¡± Isolde said evenly. ¡°And your girlfriend just confessed, on video, to destroying my dissertation.¡± Grayson looked at Belle. ¡°You threw out the book? The leather one?¡± ??????????§Ö?? ????§Ör§å ??e§Ök ???? ??§Ñ????????????s.§ãom ¡°It was ugly!¡± Belle said. Grayson put his head in his hands. ¡°That book ¡ª Isolde, please tell me you have a digital copy.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I don¡¯t. But I have a perfect memory. And now I have a confession.¡± She walked toward the door. ¡°Isolde, wait.¡± Grayson stepped into her path. ¡°We can fix this. I can hire a team to search the dump.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯m done fixing things, Grayson. I¡¯m done fixing you.¡± She looked at him one final time. He looked small. Defeated. ¡°I¡¯m leaving,¡± she said. ¡°And this time, I¡¯m not looking back.¡± She walked out of the Penthouse, past a confused Kaiden, and into the elevator. As the doors slid closed, she pinned the emerald brooch to her whitepel. She was Sophia. And she had work to do. The silence in the penthouse was heavy. Grayson Lancaster stood in the center of the master bedroom, his Italian leather shoes crunching on shards of the shattered mirror. He took a half-step toward the hallway, his hand reaching out unconsciously, as though he might pull her back from the elevator, from the life she was building without him. But the gesture died in the air. She was gone. The finality of the closing elevator doors echoed in his mind, louder than anything Belle was saying. He looked at the open balcony doors. The curtains whipped violently in the wind. ¡°She¡¯s crazy,¡± Belle sobbed from the corner. ¡°Gray, she almost killed me. She threw my things ¡ª my entire life¡­¡± Grayson didn¡¯t look at her. His gaze was fixed on the open safe ¡ª the dark void where the leather-bound dissertation used to sit. The space where his wife¡¯s intellectual soul had resided, now hollowed out by the woman weeping behind him. A cold, oily nausea rose in his gut. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Once. Twice. A relentless buzzing that demanded attention. He pulled it out. A message from Daron ¡ª no text, only a screenshot. Grayson¡¯s eyes narrowed as the image loaded. It was a post from Belle¡¯s Instagram ount. Some heirlooms just find their way to the rightful owner. Blessed. #LancasterLegacy #NewBeginnings. The photo showed Belle preening in the passenger seat of his car, the Carson family emerald brooch pinned conspicuously to herpel. The blood drained from his face. His grip on the phone tightened until the metal bit into his palm. . . . Chapter 133 Chapter 133: He turned slowly to face Belle. ¡°You posted it,¡± he said. His voice was dangerously low ¡ª a rumble of thunder before the strike. Belle sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. ¡°What?¡± Grayson crossed the room and thrust the screen in front of her face. ¡°I told you to keep it in the room. I told you not to wear it outside. And you put it on the inte?¡± Belle shrank back against the headboard. ¡°I set it to Close Friends only. I just wanted my friends to see¡ª¡± ¡°Your ¡®Close Friends¡¯ include gossip columnists and Daron McKnight,¡± Grayson said, his restraint snapping. ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done? You handed Isolde the perfect weapon on a silver tter. You unted stolen property and gave her every legal and moral justification to storm in here and take it back by force.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not stolen!¡± Belle cried. ¡°You gave it to me!¡± ¡°And she took it back,¡± Grayson said, the image of Isolde ripping the brooch from Belle¡¯s dress burning in his mind. ¡°She took it back. And she was right.¡± ¡°She assaulted me!¡± Belle shrieked. ¡°She¡¯s a thief! Call the police, Gray. Make her bring it back!¡± Grayson looked at her. Really looked at her. Her face was blotchy, her eyes swollen ¡ª but there was no remorse. Only a petty, vindictive greed. She didn¡¯t care about the dissertation she had destroyed. She didn¡¯t care about the legacy she was tarnishing. She cared only about the shiny green stone she could no longer wear. ¡°The police?¡± Grayson let out a short, humorlessugh. ¡°If I call the police, Belle, they¡¯ll be arresting you. Federal charges. Spoliation of evidence. Or did you forget that you confessed on video?¡± ??§à?¡¯?? m????? ?????? ??§Ö??????s§Ö?? §à?? ???????o??§Ö??s.????m Belle¡¯s mouth snapped shut. Her face went pale. ¡°Kaiden!¡± she wailed, deflecting. ¡°Kaiden,e to Mommy!¡± The boy came running from the hallway, clutching the remote to his broken drone. He looked between the two adults, sensing the shift in the room. ¡°Bad Daddy!¡± Kaiden yelled, stomping his foot. ¡°Stop yelling at Mommy!¡± Grayson looked down at the boy he had imed, the boy he had protected. For the first time, he didn¡¯t see a vulnerable child. He saw a mirror of Belle¡¯s entitlement ¡ª a spoiled, angry little stranger. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, heavy and suffocating. ¡°Clean this up,¡± Grayson said, his voice emptied of emotion. ¡°Get the ss off the floor.¡± ¡°But my clothes¡­¡± Belle whimpered, gesturing toward the balcony. ¡°Leave them.¡± He turned his back on her. ¡°I¡¯m going to the office. Don¡¯t call me.¡± He walked out of the room, Belle¡¯s renewed sobbing fading behind him as he moved down the hallway. Each step felt like wading through mud. . . . Chapter 134 Chapter 134: In the elevator, he leaned his head against the cool metal wall and closed his eyes. Isolde¡¯s face surfaced behind his eyelids ¡ª not the quiet, submissive wife he had ignored for five years, but the woman who had stood in that room ten minutes ago, cold and sharp and terrifyingly magnificent. Sophia. He pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over her name ¡ª Isolde ¡ª which suddenly looked foreign to him, like the name of a stranger. Driven by apulsive need to reassert his connection to her, he deleted the contact and typed the name again, as though the act itself could rewind time. He pressed call. The number you have reached is not in service. Please check the number and try again. The mechanical voice was the final m of a door. She hadn¡¯t merely blocked him. She had erased him. Grayson lowered the phone. A hollow ache expanded in his chest, filling the space where his certainty used to be. He had thought she was bluffing. He had thought she was negotiating. But staring at the ck screen in his hand, he understood with a jolt of pure terror that she wasn¡¯t ying a game at all. She was ending it. §àr???????z?? ???????? ??i??r§Ñr?? o? ????l????????????.§ã???? ¡°Liam,¡± he said to his assistant as the elevator doors opened into the lobby. ¡°Find out where she is. I don¡¯t care who you have to bribe. Find my wife.¡± The air conditioning in the Orbital Systems server room was set to a bone-chilling sixty degrees, but Isolde didn¡¯t feel the cold. She was burning with a feverish focus. On the monitors before her, the simtion for the Department of Defense satellite array was running its final stress test. The origami-style folding mechanism she had designed ¡ª the Valkyrie Hinge ¡ª was holding steady at four hundred percent structural load. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± ire whispered from behind her. The skepticism that had once clouded the senior engineer¡¯s eyes was gone, reced by something closer to reverence. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a deployment sequence this smooth. It¡¯s like poetry.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t smile. She simply nodded, her eyes scanning the data streams for any micro-fractures. Her left arm throbbed steadily in its brace ¡ª a dull, rhythmic reminder of the drone strike ¡ª but she pressed the pain into a small, locked box at the back of her mind. The inte on the desk buzzed. ¡°Ms. Carson?¡± The receptionist¡¯s voice came through tinny and uncertain. ¡°There¡¯s a Mr. Liam here. He says he has a delivery from Mr. Lancaster and insists it¡¯s urgent.¡± The room went quiet. The other engineers nced at Isolde, their expressions caught somewhere between curiosity and pity. The office gossip mill had been churning since the Sophia reveal. Isolde¡¯s fingers paused on the keyboard. ¡°Tell him I¡¯m not epting packages from that address. If he leaves it, send it to the bomb squad.¡± ¡°He says it¡¯s an apology, ma¡¯am. He won¡¯t leave.¡± Isolde stood. The movement was sharp and decisive. ¡°Fine.¡± She walked out of theb, her heels clicking against the polished concrete floor. She bypassed the elevator and took the stairs down to the lobby, needing the exertion to burn off the sudden spike of adrenaline. . . . Chapter 135 Chapter 135: Liam was waiting near the security turnstiles, looking like a man marching to the gallows. He held a square velvet box in both hands ¡ª blue, not the Lancaster ck. Tiffany¡¯s. When he saw Isolde, he straightened. ¡°Mrs. Lan ¡ª Ms. Carson. Mr. Lancaster wanted me to give you this personally. He said he knows the brooch was ruined for you. He wants to rece it.¡± Isolde stopped five feet away. She regarded the box with the same expression one might give a dead rat. ¡°Rece it?¡± she repeated, her voice t. ¡°He thinks he can rece a hundred-year-old family heirloom with something he bought on Fifth Avenue?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a sapphire, ma¡¯am. Unheated. He thought¡ª¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t think,¡± Isolde cut him off. ¡°He calcted. He thinks a shiny rock will make me forget that his mistress wore my grandmother¡¯s legacy on Instagram.¡± She paused. ¡°Take it back. Tell him that if he sends anything else, I will file a harassment suit faster than his stock price is dropping.¡± ????e ???????? ??????????w?? ???? g????????????????.??§à?? Liam shifted ufortably. ¡°Ms. Carson, please. He¡¯s waiting in the car outside. He just wants five minutes.¡± Isolde looked past him, through the ss doors. The ck Maybach sat idling at the curb like a hearse. She felt a sudden, perverse urge to end this ¡ª to look him in the eye and make certain he understood that Sophia was not someone he could buy off with blue velvet boxes. ¡°Five minutes,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And then I¡¯m calling security.¡± She pushed through the revolving doors. The humid New York air hit her face. The rear window of the Maybach rolled down. Grayson sat in the shadows. He looked terrible ¡ª dark circles beneath his eyes, his usually immacte suit rumpled beyond recognition. ¡°Get in,¡± he said. It wasn¡¯t a request. It was a habit. Isolde remained on the sidewalk, arms crossed. ¡°Say what you have to say from there.¡± Passersby were already slowing down. Phones wereing out. The Sophia story was trending, and a public confrontation between the estranged couple was exactly the kind of scene the tabloids lived for. Grayson noticed the cameras. His jaw tightened. ¡°Isolde, please. Don¡¯t make a scene. Just get in the car.¡± Isolde weighed her options. A screaming match on the sidewalk would only feed the tabloids. She opened the door and slid onto the leather seat, leaving it utched behind her. ¡°Two minutes,¡± she said, staring straight ahead. ¡°Clock¡¯s ticking.¡± The interior of the car smelled of him ¡ª sandalwood, expensive leather, and the faint, underlying scent of stress. It was a smell that used to mean safety. Now it just smelled like a cage. Grayson held out the blue box. His hand was trembling slightly. ¡°I know,¡± he began, his voice rough. ¡°I know Belle shouldn¡¯t have touched the brooch. I know it upset you.¡± ¡°Upset me?¡± Isolde turned to look at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. ¡°You think I¡¯m upset? Grayson, I am repulsed.¡± . . . Chapter 136 Chapter 136: ¡°That¡¯s why I got this,¡± he said, flipping the box open. A massive sapphire pendant rested on white silk. It was beautiful. It was expensive. It was meaningless. ¡°It¡¯s clean. No one has touched it but me. It matches your eyes.¡± Isolde looked at the stone. ¡°You still don¡¯t get it.¡± ¡°What don¡¯t I get? I¡¯m trying to fix it!¡± ¡°You can¡¯t fix a broken trust with a receipt, Grayson,¡± she said quietly. ¡°You gave my family history to a woman who destroyed my work. You let her y dress-up with my grandmother¡¯s memory. That brooch ¡ª I have it back, yes. But every time I look at it now, I see her. I see you.¡± ¡°I took it back from her!¡± Grayson argued, though he knew it was a lie. He knew Isolde had taken it herself. He was rewriting history to save face. ¡°I made sure she doesn¡¯t have it!¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Isolde said. ¡°It¡¯s contaminated. Just like this marriage.¡± ????? ????e????§å §ã????????????s ???? g????n§à????????.?????? She reached for the door handle. Grayson didn¡¯t move to lock the doors. Instead, he spoke a single clippedmand toward the front. ¡°Liam, get us on the FDR.¡± The car pulled smoothly away from the curb and merged into traffic. The motion was so fluid she almost didn¡¯t register it. They were moving ¡ª picking up speed, the city blurring beyond the window. Isolde went still. She turned back to him slowly. ¡°Pull over.¡± Grayson stared at her, desperation warping his features. ¡°Not until you listen. You can¡¯t just walk away from ten billion dors, Isolde. You can¡¯t walk away from us. Think about Effie. Think about the share price. If we divorce now, the market will crash.¡± Isoldeughed ¡ª a sharp, jagged sound. ¡°The share price? That¡¯s your argument? You¡¯re holding me captive on a moving highway for the sake of your quarterly earnings?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fighting for my family!¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said, raising her braced left arm. ¡°You¡¯re fighting for your assets. This arm ¡ª your son did this. That brooch ¡ª your mistress wore it. My heart ¡ª you broke it five years ago. There is no family here, Grayson. There is only a corporation, and I am resigning.¡± She leaned closer, dropping her voice to just above a whisper. ¡°Tell Liam to pull over now, or I will call 911 and report that I¡¯m in a car with an unstable driver who is refusing to let me out. With the press already following us, that call will cost you a great deal more than a divorce settlement.¡± Grayson searched her eyes. He looked for some trace of the woman who used to bake him cookies, who used to wait up for him. He found only steel. He exhaled a slow, defeated breath. ¡°Liam. Next exit.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t wait. As the car slowed for the off-ramp, she pushed the door open before it had fully stopped. She didn¡¯t look back. She stepped out onto the curb, straightened her zer, and walked back toward the building without a single falter in her stride. . . . Chapter 137 Chapter 137: Grayson watched her go. The blue box sat open on the seat beside him, a mocking mouth. With a roar of frustration, he snatched it and hurled it at the partition window. It struck the reinforced ss with a dull, pathetic thud that only amplified his impotence. The sapphire bounced off the dashboard and disappeared into the dark footwell, forgotten. ¡°Drive,¡± he snarled at Liam. ¡°Just drive.¡± Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed as she stepped back into the lobby. It was And. ¡°Change of ns for the G tonight. InnoTech just announced they¡¯re presenting. Cheryl Juarez is going to be there.¡± Isolde stopped walking. A cold smile touched her lips. ¡°Perfect,¡± she whispered. She typed back: I need a dress. Something that says I didn¡¯te to y. Then she turned around and walked back out, hailing a cab. She wasn¡¯t going back to theb. She was going to Bergdorf¡¯s. She found it in the back of the showroom ¡ª a column of liquid gunmetal silk. Not red, the color of passion and rage she had worn before. This was the cold, unyielding color of a weapon. It had a high neck and long sleeves, but the back plunged dangerously low, framing the scars she usually kept hidden. ¡°It¡¯s a bit aggressive,¡± the sales assistant murmured. Isolde ran her hand over the fabric. It felt like armor. ????c????me??? g§Ñ??????????????.c???? ???? y?????? ???????????? ¡°I¡¯m not looking for polite,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯m looking for inevitable.¡± The Tech Innovators G was the kind of event where the air smelled of money and desperation in equal measure. Everyone knew. The Sophia reveal, the divorce filing, the Instagram scandal ¡ª it was a perfect storm, and every person in the room was aware of it. Grayson stood near the bar, nursing a scotch he didn¡¯t want. His tuxedo fit perfectly, but he felt as though his skin was too tight. Beside him, Belle preened in a whitece gown that looked innocent enough ¡ª on her, it felt like a costume. ¡°Stop fidgeting, Gray,¡± Belle whispered, clutching his arm. ¡°Everyone is looking.¡± ¡°They¡¯re looking because you posted that photo,¡± he muttered. ¡°I took it down!¡± ¡°The inte is forever, Belle.¡± Cheryl Juarez swept over to them, a vision in goldm¨¦ and aggressive ambition. ¡°Grayson, darling. Chin up. Tonight is about the future. Wait until they see the InnoTech presentation. We¡¯re going to bury Orbital.¡± Grayson nodded absently, his eyes drifting to the entrance. He was waiting. He didn¡¯t know what for ¡ª only that a maic tension kept pulling his gaze back to the massive ss doors. Then the room went quiet. It began as a ripple near the entrance, a hush that spread outward like a wave until the only sound was the delicate clinking of silverware. And Roth walked in. He looked striking in a midnight blue tuxedo, but no one was looking at him. They were looking at the woman on his arm. Isolde Carson. She was wearing silver ¡ª not a sparkling, festive silver, but a deep, liquid gunmetal that seemed to absorb the light and return it as pure, cold power. The silk clung to her body like a second skin, tracing curves Grayson had long forgotten she possessed. Her hair was swept up, exposing the long, elegant line of her neck. . . . Chapter 138 Chapter 138: She wore no jewelry. No diamonds, no pearls. Only the emerald brooch, pinned defiantly against the cool gray silk, zing like a green eye. Grayson¡¯s breath caught in his throat. He felt as though he had been struck. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Belle hissed. ¡°She¡¯s wearing it. She¡¯s actually wearing it.¡± ¡°She looks¡ª¡± Grayson started, but the words died on his tongue. She looked dangerous. She looked like a queen returning from exile to execute the usurpers. ???????? ?????? ???????????? ???????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? Isolde moved through the crowd with a grace that was quietly terrifying. She didn¡¯t look down. She didn¡¯t look nervous. She met every stare with cool, detached amusement. ¡°Is that the ex-wife?¡± a venture capitalist whispered nearby. ¡°That¡¯s Sophia,¡± his partner corrected. ¡°That¡¯s the billion-dor brain.¡± Cheryl Juarez¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°She¡¯s trying to upstage us. Look at that dress. It¡¯s vulgar.¡± ¡°It¡¯s magnificent,¡± Grayson whispered ¡ª the truth escaping before he could stop it. Belle dug her nails into his bicep. ¡°Gray!¡± But he was already moving. He set his ss on a passing tray and stepped forward, drawn by a gravity he couldn¡¯t name or resist. He needed to be near her. He needed to remind her ¡ª and himself ¡ª that she was his. He cut through the crowd, leaving Belle¡¯s protests behind him. Isolde wasughing at something And had said. The sound was rich and genuine ¡ª a sound Grayson hadn¡¯t heard in years. He stepped directly into their path. ¡°Isolde.¡± She stopped. Her eyes moved to him, and theughter vanished at once, reced by a polite, faintly bored mask. ¡°Grayson,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re blocking the walkway.¡± The circle of silence around them expanded. This was the main event. The titans of industry leaned in, hungry for the spectacle. Grayson looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on the emerald brooch. ¡°You¡¯ve made your point,¡± he said, his voice tight. ¡°You wore the brooch. You wore the statement dress. Are we done with the theatrics?¡± Isolde tilted her head, a faint smile ying at her lips. ¡°Theatrics? I¡¯m just attending a g, Grayson. If my existence feels like a performance to you, perhaps you should examine your own conscience.¡± And stepped forward, cing a steady hand on the small of Isolde¡¯s back. ¡°Evening, Lancaster. You look tired.¡± Grayson¡¯s jaw clenched. His eyes dropped to And¡¯s hand. ¡°Take your hand off my wife, Roth.¡± ¡°Ex-wife,¡± Isolde corrected smoothly. ¡°Pending the judge¡¯s signature. And And can put his hand wherever he likes. He¡¯s my partner.¡± The double meaning settled over the room, heavy and deliberate. Belle and Cheryl arrived, breathless and bristling. ¡°Well, well,¡± Cheryl said, her voice coated in faux sweetness. ¡°If it isn¡¯t the little housewife ying engineer. Did you sew that dress yourself, dear? It looks a bit homemade.¡± Isolde turned her gaze to Cheryl with the calm precision of aser locking onto a target. ¡°InnoTech¡¯s stock is down four percent today, Cheryl,¡± Isolde said pleasantly. ¡°I assume that¡¯s why you¡¯re wearing gold. Trying to look solvent?¡± Cheryl¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°Our stock is fluctuating due to market vtility. But after tonight¡¯s presentation¡ª¡± . . . Chapter 139 Chapter 139: ¡°The presentation on the new satellitems module?¡± Isolde interrupted, taking a sip of her sparkling water. ¡°And¡¯s due diligence team is remarkably thorough. When they analyzed your public filings, they found figures that simply didn¡¯t add up ¡ª which led them to the internal QA report you submitted to your underwriters.¡± Cheryl puffed up. ¡°It¡¯s revolutionary.¡± ¡°Revolutionary, indeed,¡± Isolde continued, her voice dropping an octave and sharpening to a de. ¡°A forty-percent yield rate on a silicon-germanium wafer is truly a revolution ¡ª in inefficiency. Mostpanies would call that a manufacturing disaster. You¡¯re calling it a productunch. Your thermal management is nonexistent. The chip will overheat before it reaches the stratosphere. You¡¯re selling a bomb, Cheryl, and hoping no one notices until the check clears.¡± A murmur moved through the crowd. Investors exchanged uneasy nces. ???? ????d??t?? e????r?? ???????? ???? ??????????????????.c???? ¡°That data is confidential!¡± Cheryl snapped. ¡°It¡¯s sloppy,¡± Isolde corrected. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about!¡± Belle stepped forward, her voice rising. ¡°You¡¯re just jealous because Gray chose me!¡± Isolde looked at Belle, then at Grayson. ¡°He chose a woman who thinks ¡®yield rate¡¯ is a traffic sign,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Grayson, I used to think you were simply cruel. Now I realize you¡¯re also bad at math.¡± She set her ss down on the table beside Cheryl ¡ª with just a touch too much force. The liquid sloshed over the rim and sshed across Cheryl¡¯s gold dress. ¡°Oops,¡± Isolde said, entirely deadpan. ¡°Unstable equilibrium. Just like yourpany.¡± She took And¡¯s arm. ¡°Come on. The air is getting stale over here.¡± They walked away, leaving the Lancaster faction standing in a puddle of champagne and humiliation. Grayson stared after her, his heart hammering. He should have been furious. He should have been defending his partner. Instead, only one thought cut through everything else. How did she know the yield rate? He turned to Cheryl. ¡°Is it true?¡± Cheryl was frantically dabbing at her dress with a napkin. ¡°Of course not. She¡¯s bluffing. She¡¯s a bitter ex-wife, nothing more.¡± But her hands were shaking. And for the first time, Grayson saw the fear hiding behind the ambition. The terrace offered a cool reprieve from the stifling tension of the ballroom. The New York skyline glittered in the distance, indifferent to the petty wars of the elite. ¡°Remind me never to get on your bad side,¡± And said, handing Isolde a fresh drink. ¡°That was brutal.¡± ¡°It was necessary,¡± Isolde said, leaning against the stone balustrade. ¡°Cheryl is a bully. You have to hit bullies where it hurts ¡ª her wallet.¡± ¡°You certainly dented it. I saw three investors walking away from her table.¡± A shadow fell over them. Daron McKnight was lounging against the doorway, a ss of whiskey in hand, his tie loosened, a smirk fixed on his face. He was drunk. ¡°Sophia,¡± he slurred. ¡°Or should I say the Widow Lancaster? You put on quite a show in there.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t turn around. ¡°Go away, Daron.¡± ¡°Aw, don¡¯t be like that.¡± He pushed off the wall and stumbled closer. ¡°You know, Gray likes them docile. But me? I like a woman with ws.¡± He reached out, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her arm. Isolde spun around and pped his hand away. ¡°Touch me again and you¡¯ll lose the finger.¡± . . . Chapter 140 Chapter 140: Daronughed, stepping into her space. ¡°Feisty. I bet you¡¯re wild in bed. That¡¯s why And keeps you around, right? It¡¯s not the engineering. It¡¯s the¡ª¡± ¡°Daron,¡± Isolde cut him off, her voice dropping low. ¡°How is Emily?¡± Daron blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Your wife. Emily. The one whose father owns the firm you work for.¡± Isolde drew out her phone. ¡°I wonder what she¡¯d think if I sent her the audio of this conversation. Or perhaps the security footage of you grabbing the waitress¡¯s arm ten minutes ago.¡± Daron¡¯s face went ck. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Try me,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I have nothing to lose. You have a trust fund and a marriage to a woman who already suspects you¡¯re a loser. Do you really want to roll those dice?¡± Daron stared at her. The lust drained from his expression and something colder reced it ¡ª fear. He understood, btedly, that he was no longer dealing with Grayson¡¯s quiet wife. He was dealing with a predator. ¡°You¡¯re a bitch,¡± he muttered, stepping back. S??a??e ??????r ??h????????t?? ???? ??§Ñ?????????????.c???? ¡°And you¡¯re a parasite,¡± Isolde replied. ¡°Run along, Daron. The adults are talking.¡± He retreated inside. And let out a low whistle. ¡°Did you actually record him?¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde admitted, slipping her phone back into her clutch. ¡°But men like Daron are always guilty of something. Fear does the rest.¡± Inside, the lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the stage. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± the announcer boomed. ¡°Please wee the Chief Strategy Officer of InnoTech, Dr. Belle Escobar!¡± Belle walked onto the stage. She had repaired her makeup, though her smile looked brittle. Behind her, a massive screen disyed aplex schematic of a satellite array. Isolde moved to the ss doors to watch. ¡°This is the InnoTech StarLink Module,¡± Belle announced, reading from a teleprompter. ¡°Using our proprietarypression algorithm¡­¡± Isolde squinted at the screen. ¡°Wait.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± And asked. ¡°That schematic,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°Look at the power distribution node. They¡¯re using a deprecated version of the KestrelX positioning library.¡± She paused, her eyes moving rapidly across the diagram. ¡°They acquired thepany that developed it, but they never did a deep code audit. That library has a known thermal throttling bug in the source code. A bug I wrote a patch for three years ago ¡ª a patch they clearly never implemented.¡± Isolde began tough. It was a dark, incredulous sound. ¡°They¡¯re pitching a system that will short-circuit the moment it enters an eclipse shadow,¡± she said. ¡°They literally acquired a bug.¡± Across the room, Grayson stood near the stage watching Belle ¡ª taking in the confidence, the sh, the polished performance. Then his gaze drifted and found Isolde. She was whispering to And, pointing at the screen, slowly shaking her head. She looked disappointed. Not angry. Simply, professionally disappointed. A cold knot formed in Grayson¡¯s stomach. He looked back at the screen. It had seemed impressive to him. But Isolde¡¯s expression made him feel as though he were staring at a child¡¯s finger painting. What does she see that I don¡¯t? The apuse for Belle was polite but thin. The industry experts in the room knew fluff when they heard it. . . . Chapter 141 Chapter 141: Isolde slipped away to thedies¡¯ room. She needed a moment of quiet. The adrenaline was beginning to fade, and her arm had started to ache in its absence. She entered a stall and locked the door. A momentter, the main door swung open. High heels clicked across the tile. ¡°That went well!¡± Belle¡¯s voice ¡ª high, anxious. ¡°It went fine.¡± Cheryl¡¯s voice ¡ª harsh, dismissive. ¡°Stop fishing forpliments. Did you see the look on the Lockheed rep¡¯s face? He wasn¡¯t buying it.¡± T??e ??e??? ????????????g e????§Ö???e?§ãe ???? ???????????§Ö??s.??§à?? ¡°It¡¯s Isolde¡¯s fault!¡± Belle whined. ¡°She rattled me. She put that doubt in everyone¡¯s head about the yield rate.¡± ¡°Forget her,¡± Cheryl snapped. ¡°She¡¯s a gnat. We¡¯ll crush her soon enough.¡± Isolde held her breath. ¡°Did the bank call?¡± Belle asked. ¡°Yes,¡± Cheryl said, the snap of apact punctuating her words. ¡°I pulled the strings with First National. They¡¯re freezing Carson Dynamics¡¯ credit line tomorrow morning ¡ª citing instability due to the divorce.¡± Isolde¡¯s heart stopped. Carson Dynamics. Her mother¡¯spany. Her father¡¯s legacy. ¡°Good,¡± Belle giggled. ¡°That old witch Ellyn deserves it. Once thepany goes under, Isolde will be begging us for a settlement. She¡¯ll have to crawl back to Gray just to pay her mother¡¯s medical bills.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Cheryl said. ¡°We starve the beast. Now fix your lipstick. You look pale.¡± The door opened and closed. Isolde sat in the stall, trembling ¡ª not with fear, but with a rage so white-hot it felt like ice moving through her veins. They weren¡¯t just attacking her. They were going after her mother. They were going after the only thing her family had left. She unlocked the door and walked to the sink. She looked at herself in the mirror. The gunmetal dress. The emerald brooch. She pulled out her phone and dialed. ¡°Mom?¡± ¡°Isolde?¡± Ellyn¡¯s voice was unsteady. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to bother you.¡± ¡°The bank,¡± Isolde said. ¡°They¡¯re freezing the ounts tomorrow.¡± Silence. Then a quiet sob. ¡°How did you know? The manager only just called me privately. He said it came from the top.¡± ¡°Cheryl Juarez,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Mom, listen to me carefully. Do not sign anything. Do not dere bankruptcy. I¡¯ming to the office tomorrow.¡± ¡°But Isolde, we have no cash flow. The inventory is stuck¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯ll handle it,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Orbital will handle it.¡± ¡°What? With what money?¡± ¡°With a purchase order,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And then I¡¯m going to burn InnoTech to the ground.¡± She hung up and walked out of the bathroom. And was waiting for her. ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± she said. ¡°Is everything okay?¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°They just dered war on my family. So I¡¯m going to nuke theirs.¡± As they moved toward the exit, Daron stepped into their path again, nked by two other drunk suits. ¡°Running away again?¡± Daron sneered. Isolde didn¡¯t break stride. She walked directly up to him. ¡°Daron,¡± she said, her voice carrying clearly over the surrounding chatter. ¡°Does Emily know you maxed out the joint Amex at the Sapphire Clubst night? Or did you tell her it was a business expense?¡± The conversation nearby stopped. Daron turned purple. ¡°You ¡ª shut up!¡± . . . Chapter 142 Chapter 142: ¡°Better check your wallet,¡± Isolde said, smiling sweetly. ¡°I hear she froze your cards about an hour ago.¡± Daron yanked his phone from his pocket with trembling hands and stared at the screen. His face copsed. The crowdughed. Isolde walked past him, her head high. From the balcony, Grayson watched it all ¡ª Daron¡¯s humiliation, Isolde¡¯s retreating back, straight as a steel rod. He felt a strange, terrifying sensation move through his chest. ?????????? ??§à???? ??h????????t?? ???? ??a??n??????????.??o?? Pride. And then, immediately after, dread. Because he understood with perfect rity that the weapon he was watching was now pointed directly at him. The offices of Carson Dynamics smelled of dust and old paper ¡ª a stark contrast to the gleaming ss of Orbital Systems. Isolde sat at her father¡¯s old desk. Her mother, Ellyn, sat opposite her, looking aged and defeated. ¡°Here¡¯s the situation,¡± Isolde said, sliding a folder across the desk. ¡°InnoTech rejected yourst shipment of guidance chips, iming they were defective. That triggered the penalty use, which drained your cash reserves. Now the bank is freezing the credit line.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a trap,¡± Ellyn whispered. ¡°Cheryl¡­ she always hated me. Because Keyon chose me.¡± ¡°She hates you because you have what she wants,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Legitimacy.¡± She opened herptop. ¡°But here¡¯s the mistake they made ¡ª they rejected the shipment, but they didn¡¯t destroy it. Where are the chips?¡± ¡°In the warehouse. They¡¯re useless. InnoTech marked them as Grade B.¡± ¡°They aren¡¯t Grade B,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Mom, I personally supervised the fabrication of that batch before I left. I designed the QA protocol. I know the logs by heart. Those chips are perfect. InnoTech simply refused to certify them.¡± She dialed And. ¡°Isolde?¡± ¡°And, does Orbital need guidance chips for the Phoenix prototype?¡± ¡°We do. Lead time is six months.¡± ¡°How about six hours?¡± Isolde asked. ¡°Carson Dynamics has five thousand units sitting in a warehouse in Jersey. High-spec. Compatible with our architecture.¡± ¡°Are you serious? Why are they avable?¡± ¡°Because InnoTech was too shortsighted to keep them. I¡¯m authorizing the sale ¡ª Orbital buys the lot at market price, cash upfront.¡± ¡°Done,¡± And said. ¡°I¡¯ll wire the funds within the hour.¡± Isolde hung up and looked at her mother. ¡°You¡¯re solvent. The bank can¡¯t freeze an ount that just received a five-million-dor injection.¡± Ellyn burst into tears. ¡°Isolde¡­ I don¡¯t deserve this. I was so hard on you.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll talk about thatter,¡± Isolde said, rising from her chair. ¡°Right now, we have a board meeting to crash.¡± Meanwhile, at the Lancaster offices, Grayson was staring at a contract. ¡°Just sign it, Gray,¡± Belle purred, massaging his shoulders. ¡°The InnoTech partnership will boost the stock. Everyone loved the presentation.¡± ¡°Isolde didn¡¯t,¡± Grayson muttered. ¡°Who cares what she thinks?¡± Belle kissed his cheek. ¡°She¡¯s just trying to scare you. The board is expecting this ¡ª if you don¡¯t sign, it looks like you¡¯ve lost faith in thepany¡¯s direction.¡± Grayson sighed. She was right. The optics were everything. . . . Chapter 143 Chapter 143: ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°Set up the meeting for tomorrow. We¡¯ll sign the renewal with Orbital and the partnership with InnoTech simultaneously.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± Belle said, her eyes gleaming. ¡°I want to see her face when we win.¡± That night, in Isolde¡¯s new apartment, Effie sat on the floor surrounded by blueprints for the Phoenix-X7 modification. ¡°Mommy?¡± ¡°Yes, baby?¡± Isolde was typing furiously. ¡°This number.¡± Effie pressed a small finger to aplex thrust equation. ¡°It¡¯s wrong.¡± ???a???? ??????r ??????????h???? ???? ??a?????????????.?????? Isolde paused. She leaned down and looked. The number itself wasn¡¯t incorrect ¡ª but its rtionship to the adjacent variables was. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible w in the symphony of the mathematics, a non-linear distortion that would only manifest under extreme G-force, triggering a catastrophic feedback loop. A simple decimal error would have been caught by theputer. This was something deeper. Something intuitive. ¡°How did you know that?¡± Isolde asked, stunned. Effie shrugged. ¡°The shape of the numbers didn¡¯t fit the song.¡± ¡°The song?¡± ¡°The math song in my head,¡± Effie said simply. ¡°It sounded like a wrong note.¡± Isolde stared at her daughter. The genius she had long suspected was real. Terrifyingly real. She pulled Effie into herp and kissed her forehead. ¡°You just saved the mission, baby. You are amazing.¡± ¡°Better than Kaiden?¡± Effie asked, her voice small. ¡°Infinitely,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°You are the stars, Effie. He¡¯s just the dirt.¡± The conference room at SkyLine Technologies was designed to intimidate. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a table long enough tond a ne on, and air conditioning set to something approaching the Arctic. Grayson sat at the head. Belle sat to his right in a power suit that was a fraction too tight. Isolde and And sat across from them. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± Grayson said. ¡°We¡¯re here to renew the supply contract for the Phoenixponents.¡± ¡°Actually,¡± Belle interrupted, sliding a folder forward, ¡°before we sign, we have some concerns about Orbital¡¯s quality control. InnoTech¡¯s analysis suggests your new specs are unstable.¡± She smiled at Isolde ¡ª a predator¡¯s smile. ¡°We think SkyLine should switch to InnoTech for the primary systems. We can offer a better price.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t blink. She opened her own folder. ¡°Interesting theory, Dr. Escobar,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Since you¡¯re so concerned with stability, let¡¯s talk about the algorithm you presentedst night.¡± She rose, walked to the smart board, and picked up a digital stylus. ¡°This is the InnoTech algorithm,¡± she said, sketching a quick flowchart. ¡°And this¡ª¡± she drew a red line through the center, ¡°¡ªis the infinite loop it creates when the temperature drops below zero.¡± Belle scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s nonsense. It¡¯s proprietary code.¡± ¡°It¡¯s based on a deprecated library from 2019,¡± Isolde corrected. She began writing equations on the board ¡ª fast, fluid, the mathematics flowing out of her like music. ¡°If you integrate this into the Phoenix, the guidance system will lock up at Mach 1. The ne will crash.¡± The room went silent. The SkyLine engineers leaned forward, eyes wide. They recognized the math. It was brilliant. It was undeniable. ¡°Can you prove that?¡± the Chief Engineer asked. . . . Chapter 144 Chapter 144: ¡°I just did,¡± Isolde said, capping the stylus. ¡°I derived the failure point in front of you. Now, Dr. Escobar ¡ª would you like toe up here and show us the patch?¡± She held the pen out to Belle. Belle stared at it. She stared at the board. The equations were foreign to her. A faint sheen of perspiration appeared at her temples. ¡°I don¡¯t have to perform for you,¡± Belle stammered. ¡°This is a boardroom, not a ssroom.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Isolde said. ¡°In a boardroom, we deal in facts. And the fact is ¡ª you¡¯re a fraud.¡± ?????? ???????????? ???????????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? Grayson looked at the board. He looked at Belle, shrinking in her seat. The realization struck him like a physical blow. She doesn¡¯t know. She didn¡¯t design it. She never understood it. He looked back at Isolde,manding the room withplete authority, her mind a weapon he had thrown away. ¡°Isolde is right,¡± the Chief Engineer said quietly. ¡°The math checks out. The InnoTech system is wed.¡± Grayson closed his eyes. ¡°The InnoTech contract is suspended. We sign with Orbital.¡± Belle gasped. ¡°Gray!¡± ¡°Quiet,¡± Grayson snapped. At that moment, the door burst open. Liam rushed in, his face ashen. ¡°Mr. Lancaster ¡ª emergency.¡± Grayson rose. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Kaiden, sir. The school just called. He copsed. Anaphctic shock. He¡¯s in the ambnce.¡± Grayson¡¯s face went white. ¡°What? He doesn¡¯t have allergies.¡± ¡°They said it was crab cakes, sir.¡± Grayson froze. Seafood. He looked at Isolde. She was gathering her things, her faceposed and unreadable. ¡°Isolde,¡± Grayson said, his voice cracking. ¡°You have toe. He asks for you when he¡¯s sick. Please.¡± Isolde paused. She looked at the man who had tormented her daughter. She looked at the woman who had tried to destroy her mother. Then she nced at Belle. ¡°He has a mother,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Let her go.¡± ¡°He needs you!¡± Grayson said. Isolde looked at And. And gave a small nod. Go. End it. ¡°Fine,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯ll drive.¡± The hospital waiting room was a wash of sterile white and the sharp smell of antiseptic. Grayson paced the floor. Belle sat in a stic chair, scrolling through her phone with an expression closer to annoyance than worry. ¡°He¡¯s going to be fine, Gray,¡± Belle said. ¡°Kids have allergies. It¡¯s not a big deal.¡± ¡°He stopped breathing, Belle!¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°How did you not know he was allergic to shellfish?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never fed him shellfish!¡± The doctor came through the door. ¡°Mr. Lancaster?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°He¡¯s stable. It was a severe reaction. We¡¯ll need to update his medical history. Does anyone in the family have a shellfish allergy? It¡¯s often gic.¡± Grayson stopped pacing. ¡°I do. Mild. My father does as well.¡± The doctor nodded. ¡°That would exin it. It¡¯s a strong gic marker.¡± Isolde stood by the door, listening. Her eyes narrowed. Gic. . . . Chapter 145 Chapter 145: The word hung in the air ¡ª a final, damning piece of evidence settling into ce. She had known for years, of course. The truth was a stone she had carried, waiting for the right moment to cast it. This was that moment. It wasn¡¯t a revtion; it was a confirmation. A biological marker that could be presented as cold, hard fact in a court ofw. The secret now had a voice. Grayson was rubbing his face with relief, still too mired in his panic to recognize the legal charge that had just detonated around him. But Isolde saw it clearly ¡ª the allergy, the shared gic trait, the undeniable biological link that would shred his ims of adoption in court. ¡°Can we see him?¡± Grayson asked. ¡°One at a time,¡± the doctor said. Grayson turned to Isolde. ¡°You go first. He was asking for Mommy. He¡¯s confused.¡± Isolde felt a flicker of the old instinct ¡ª five years of band-aids and bedtime stories pulling at her chest. She walked past Grayson and pushed open the door. ??op????§Ñ?? s??????????? o?? g§Ñ??no??el??.????m Kaiden looked small in therge bed, an oxygen mask covering his face. He was pale and fragile against the white sheets. Isolde approached the bedside. ¡°Kaiden?¡± His eyes fluttered open. He found her face, and for a single moment, she saw relief. Then his expression twisted. ¡°Go away!¡± he rasped, his voice muffled behind the mask. ¡°Kaiden, I just wanted to¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want you!¡± he screamed, his heart monitor spiking. ¡°I want my real Mommy! I want Belle! You¡¯re the ugly witch! Belle said you¡¯re a witch!¡± Isolde went still. Five years. She had wiped his tears. She had held him through nightmares. And this was what she was to him. The ugly witch. Something inside her broke ¡ª not with a bang, but with a quiet, final snap. Thest thread of obligation, of guilt, severing cleanly. She looked at the boy in the bed. He wasn¡¯t hers. He never had been. He was a weapon, forged by Belle and Grayson, aimed squarely at her. ¡°Okay,¡± Isolde said softly. ¡°Okay.¡± She turned and walked out. Grayson was waiting just outside. ¡°How is he? Did he calm down?¡± Isolde looked at him. Her eyes were dry. Her face was perfectlyposed. ¡°He doesn¡¯t want me, Grayson,¡± she said. ¡°And for the first time in my life, I don¡¯t want him either.¡± ¡°What? He¡¯s just a child ¡ª he doesn¡¯t mean it¡ª¡± ¡°He means it,¡± Isolde said. ¡°He is exactly who you raised him to be. He¡¯s yours, Grayson. All yours.¡± She walked past him toward the exit. ¡°Where are you going?¡± Grayson called after her, panic rising in his voice. ¡°I¡¯m going to pick up my daughter,¡± Isolde said, without looking back. ¡°The one who actually knows who her mother is.¡± She pushed through the hospital doors and stepped into the sunlight. She drew a slow, deep breath. The air tasted like freedom. And it tasted like war. She pulled out her phone and dialed Arthur Stone. ¡°Arthur,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re filing the motion to invalidate the non-disclosure agreement. Use the hospital admission records from today¡¯s allergic reaction as Exhibit A. It¡¯s time to make Kaiden¡¯s paternity a matter of public record.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t look back. She reached the elevator bank and pressed the down button, her finger leaving a smudge on the polished steel. . . . Chapter 146 Chapter 146: The doors chimed and began to slide open. ¡°Isolde!¡± A hand mped around her wrist ¡ª not a gentle hold, but a desperate, bruising grip. She spun around, her hair whipping across her face. Grayson stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide with a panic that didn¡¯t suit him. ¡°You can¡¯t leave,¡± he gasped. ??????d ?????????u?? ????????r??u??????????? ???? ????l??????e????.co?? Isolde looked at his hand on her arm. Then she looked at his face. Her expression was so cold it could have frozen the blood in his veins. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me,¡± she said. Her voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a judge¡¯s gavel. ¡°Go find his mother. She¡¯s the one you want ¡ª she was just here, wasn¡¯t she?¡± She yanked her arm back. He didn¡¯t let go. ¡°She left,¡± Grayson admitted, his voice strained. ¡°Once the doctor said he was stable, she said she needed to go home and get some things. She couldn¡¯t handle the stress.¡± He swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m alone here, Isolde.¡± Isolde let out a short, incredulous breath. ¡°Of course she did. The moment the drama fades, the audience leaves. And you want me to fill the void?¡± ¡°If you walk out those doors,¡± Grayson said, his voice dropping to a low, ugly register, ¡°Effie¡¯s tuition at St. Jude¡¯s is gone. Tomorrow.¡± Isolde froze. The air left her lungs. ¡°You would use your own daughter?¡± she whispered, staring at him as if seeing a monster for the first time. ¡°You would pull her out of the only ce she feels safe ¡ª to ckmail me?¡± Grayson flinched, but he didn¡¯t back down. He fixed his gaze on a spot on the wall above her shoulder. ¡°I will do whatever is necessary to save my son. You know I will.¡± Isolde¡¯s fingernails dug into her palms. St. Jude¡¯s wasn¡¯t merely a school. It was Effie¡¯s sanctuary ¡ª the first ce where teachers hadn¡¯t called her slow, where she had begun to smile again. She looked at the elevator. Freedom was right there. But the cost was Effie¡¯s happiness. She closed her eyes and drew a breath that tasted of antiseptic and defeat. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. The word fell like a stone dropping into still water. ¡°I will save him. But remember this, Grayson ¡ª this is thest time. This is thest drop of mercy you will ever squeeze out of me.¡± She turned and walked back toward the VIP suite. Grayson followed, looking like a man who had won a battle and lost the war. Inside the room, chaos reigned. Kaiden was thrashing on the bed, his face swollen and flushed. A young resident fumbled with a syringe while a nurse tried to hold the boy still. ¡°Hold him down!¡± the doctor shouted. ¡°I¡¯m administering 5mg of Midazm.¡± ¡°Stop.¡± Isolde¡¯s voice cut through the room like a whip. The doctor froze, the needle hovering inches from Kaiden¡¯s arm. . . . Chapter 147 Chapter 147: ¡°He has a paradoxical reaction to benzodiazepines,¡± Isolde said, moving to the bedside. ¡°He hadryngeal edema three years ago after a dental procedure. If you give him that, you will kill him.¡± The doctor looked from Isolde to Grayson. ¡°Is this true?¡± Grayson¡¯s face had gone pale. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± He vaguely recalled Belle mentioning something about Kaiden bing agitated after a sedative at the dentist, but she had dismissed it as a fluke. He looked at Isolde. ¡°Is it?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Isolde said, her eyes burning with contempt. ¡°Check his chart. Though I imagine no one here has actually read it.¡± She turned to the doctor. ¡°Give him diphenhydramine and start a saline flush. Now.¡± ????§Ñ?? ?????? l§Ñ???????? ???????????? ???? ??§Ñ??????????l??.c???? Grayson nodded at the doctor. ¡°Do what she says. She raised him.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t look at Grayson. She moved to the head of the bed with the efficiency of a mechanic repairing a broken engine ¡ª no affection, no tenderness, just precision. She ced her hands firmly on Kaiden¡¯s shoulders, leaned down, and let her voice fall into the specific, rhythmic cadence she had used a thousand times before. ¡°Breathe, Kaiden. In. Out. The scary feeling is just a wave. Let it pass.¡± It was muscle memory. It was five years of sleepless nights distilled into a handful of words. Kaiden, hearing the familiar cadence, stopped thrashing. His breathing hitched, then gradually began to sync with hers. The panic in his eyes receded, softening into a drug-induced haze as the nurse administered the correct medication. Isolde checked the IV drip rate and adjusted the pillow to open his airway. Her hands were practiced and gentle. Her face was a mask of stone. Grayson stood in the corner, watching. A crushing weight settled in his chest as the full realizationnded: he didn¡¯t know his son¡¯s medical history. He didn¡¯t know how to calm him. He was a stranger in this room. He took a step forward. ¡°Thank you,¡± he murmured. ¡°I knew you still cared.¡± Isolde stepped back from the bed as if it had burned her. She turned to him, her eyes dry and hard. ¡°I care about Effie¡¯s tuition,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t tter yourself.¡± She crossed the room to the sofa in the far corner ¡ª the one furthest from the bed and from him ¡ª sat down, crossed her legs, and pulled out her phone. Grayson poured a ss of water from the pitcher on the table and carried it over to her. Isolde didn¡¯t look up. She kept scrolling through news about Carson Dynamics, her thumb moving steadily against the screen. Grayson stood there holding the water, feeling foolish. In the past, Isolde would have been in tears. She would have been reaching for reassurance, clinging to him, filling the silence with need. This silence was different. It was the silence of a tomb. A nurse bustled in to check Kaiden¡¯s vitals, nced from the still woman on the sofa to the man standing awkwardly with a ss of water, and quietly returned her attention to her clipboard. Grayson¡¯s phone buzzed. He pulled it out. Belle. He nced at Isolde. She hadn¡¯t moved. . . . Chapter 148 Chapter 148: Guilt crawled up the back of his neck, hot and prickly. He walked out into the corridor to answer. Isolde watched his back disappear through the door. The corner of her mouth lifted in a mirthless smile. She looked at the boy in the bed. The swelling was going down. He looked so much like Belle ¡ª the shape of the eyes, the chin. The suspicion that had been gnawing at her for years hardened into a cold, immovable fact. It coiled around her heart like a snake. Grayson returned a momentter, looking flushed. ¡°Belle is on her way back. She went home to change and get some food. She¡¯s parking now.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t look up from her phone. ¡°Good. The lead actress is returning from her intermission. The understudy can go home.¡± ???????? ??n a?§å ??§Ö???????? o?? ????l?§à??e??s.c???? ¡°Don¡¯t be like that,¡± Grayson said, his voice tightening. ¡°She was overwhelmed. She needed a break.¡± Isolde closed her eyes and said nothing. She was simply counting down the seconds. A rustle from the bed. A groan. Isolde stood immediately, but she didn¡¯t move to the bedside. She stayed by the sofa. Kaiden blinked his eyes open, looking groggy. He turned his head, found her face, and his expression crumpled. ¡°Why are you here?¡± he croaked. ¡°Where¡¯s Belle Mommy?¡± Isolde¡¯s face didn¡¯t change. ¡°She¡¯s on her way back up. How do you feel?¡± Kaiden huffed and turned his face into the pillow. ¡°Go away. Bad woman.¡± The noise woke Grayson. He jerked upright, blinking. ¡°Kaiden? You¡¯re awake?¡± He let out a breath. ¡°Thank God.¡± He took the boy¡¯s hand and kissed his knuckles. ¡°You scared Daddy, buddy. You really scared me.¡± He smoothed the hair back from Kaiden¡¯s forehead. ¡°Tell me ¡ª why did you eat the crab cakes? You know those make you itchy.¡± Kaiden¡¯s eyes moved around the room,nding on Grayson, then on Isolde. A cunning look ¡ª learned from the best ¡ª crossed his young face. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they were crab,¡± he whined. ¡°Isolde didn¡¯t tell me!¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t lived in the house for a week, Kaiden,¡± Isolde said. ¡°It¡¯s your fault!¡± Kaiden screamed, his voice climbing to a shrill pitch. ¡°If you were home, I wouldn¡¯t have eaten it! You left me!¡± Isolde waited. She waited for Grayson to correct him. To be the adult in the room. Instead, Grayson sighed. He looked at her, his expression weary and faintly usatory. ¡°He has a point, Isolde. If you hadn¡¯t pulled this stunt ¡ª if you weren¡¯t spending all your time at Orbital ¡ª none of this would have happened.¡± Isolde let out a short, disbelievingugh. ¡°So let me understand this correctly. Your son eats something he¡¯s allergic to while under your supervision, and it¡¯s my fault because I wasn¡¯t there to serve as his unpaid food taster?¡± ¡°You are his mother,¡± Grayson said, his voice hardening. ¡°Legally. And your new job is making you neglect your responsibilities.¡± Isolde looked at the two of them ¡ª the man she had loved, the boy she had raised. . . . Chapter 149 Chapter 149: ¡°Grayson,¡± she said, her voice trembling with suppressed fury, ¡°you aren¡¯t just a terrible husband. You are a failure of a father. You are teaching him that nothing is ever his fault.¡± ¡°Watch your mouth!¡± Grayson snapped. Kaiden started to wail. ¡°Daddy! She¡¯s being mean! Make her leave!¡± Grayson pulled the boy into his arms and red at Isolde over Kaiden¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Get out. Go get us some breakfast and coffee. ck.¡± ????????c??iv?? ????????l?? ??? ????????o???????.??§à?? Isolde picked up her purse. She didn¡¯t argue. She needed to leave before she said something she couldn¡¯t take back ¡ª or before she was sick. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. She walked to the door and put her hand on the handle. Behind her, she heard Kaiden¡¯s voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°Daddy, since I¡¯m sick, can I get the new yStation? The Pro one?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Grayson whispered back, his voice thick with indulgence. ¡°Yes, buddy. Whatever you want. Just stop crying.¡± Isolde opened the door and stepped out, closing it firmly behind her. She leaned against the corridor wall and drew a slow breath. The air out here was cooler. Cleaner. She had begun walking toward the elevators when a figure came hurrying down the hall. Belle. She was wearing a beige loungewear set that probably cost more than most people¡¯s monthly rent. Her face was painted in a masterful no-makeup look ¡ª dewy skin, stained lips, just enough mascara to appear tragic but beautiful. In one hand she carried a stainless steel tiffin carrier. She spotted Isolde and immediately quickened her pace, her expression assembling itself into a mask of concern. ¡°Isolde!¡± Belle gasped, reaching out as if to touch her arm. ¡°How is he? Is he okay? I came back as fast as I could.¡± Isolde sidestepped the touch cleanly. ¡°He¡¯s alive. Go in and perform.¡± Belle blinked, her hand hovering in the air. ¡°Perform? I¡¯m his ¡ª I¡¯m his family friend. I care about him.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Family friend. Who leaves the hospital the moment things get difficult.¡± She nced at the tiffin carrier. ¡°What¡¯s in the box, Belle? More poison?¡± Belle¡¯s eyes narrowed. For just a moment, the mask slipped. ¡°I went home to make him proper food,¡± she snapped. ¡°Hospital food is trash. It¡¯s congee ¡ª homemade. Something you wouldn¡¯t know how to make.¡± ¡°Enjoy,¡± Isolde said. ¡°He¡¯s asking for his real mommy. Don¡¯t keep him waiting.¡± A small, triumphant smile twitched at the corner of Belle¡¯s mouth. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± She pushed past Isolde and disappeared into the room. Isolde stood in the corridor a moment longer. She should go. Buy the coffee and the bagels. y the part of the dutiful servant one final time. Instead, she turned and walked toward the exit. She wasn¡¯t buying breakfast. She was buying time. Isolde sat in the hospital cafeteria, staring into a cup of ck coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes ago. She hadn¡¯t taken a single sip. She watched the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes. Enough time for the family upstairs to settle in. She stood, smoothed her skirt, and headed back to the elevators. She had left her car keys on the bedside table. A rookie mistake. . . . Chapter 150 Chapter 150: When she reached the VIP floor, the corridor was quiet. She walked to Room 402. The door was ajar. Just a crack. Soft, intimateughter drifted through the gap. Isolde stopped. She moved closer and peered through the narrow space between the door and the frame. ????r?? ??????????s ??n ????l????????ls.§ã§à?? Belle sat on the edge of the bed, a spoon in hand, blowing gently on steaming congee. Grayson stood directly behind her, his hand resting casually on her shoulder. ¡°Careful, it¡¯s hot,¡± Belle cooed. ¡°Gray, test it for me?¡± Grayson leaned down and took a small sip from the spoon Belle held up. Their faces were inches apart. It was a level of domestic intimacy Isolde hadn¡¯t shared with him in years. ¡°Perfect,¡± Grayson said softly. Belle fed the next spoonful to Kaiden. The boy swallowed it eagerly. ¡°Yum!¡± Kaiden beamed. ¡°Belle Mommy makes the best food. Isolde¡¯s food tastes like pig slop.¡± The wordsnded like a physical blow. Pig slop. The organic purees she had made from scratch. The soups she had simmered for hours when he had the flu. ¡°Now, now,¡± Belle said, her voice dipping into theatrical sweetness. ¡°Don¡¯t be mean. Auntie Isolde tries her best. It¡¯s just ¡ª well, since she started at Orbital, she¡¯s so focused on her career. Some women are simply built for the boardroom, you know?¡± Grayson sighed, stroking Kaiden¡¯s hair. ¡°I wish she had half your patience, Belle. Half your warmth.¡± Isolde¡¯s hand found the door handle. Her knuckles turned white. ¡°Gray,¡± Belle said, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial murmur, ¡°I¡¯m worried about Isolde. She seems so unstabletely. Maybe she needs a break? I could move into the penthouse for a few weeks ¡ª just to help with Kaiden¡¯s recovery. He needs stability.¡± Grayson hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s appropriate¡ª¡± ¡°I want Belle!¡± Kaiden shouted, sensing the hesitation at once. ¡°I don¡¯t want the bad woman! If shees back, I¡¯ll hold my breath until I die!¡± Grayson¡¯s resolve copsed instantly. ¡°Okay. Okay, buddy. Calm down. We¡¯ll make it work. For you.¡± Isolde felt bile rise in her throat. For the child. The universal excuse for their betrayal. She didn¡¯t knock. She didn¡¯t announce herself. She shoved the door open. It mmed against the wall with a force that made everyone flinch. Grayson spun around. Belle dropped the spoon. It ttered into the bowl. Isolde walked into the room without looking at either of them, crossed directly to the bedside table, and snatched her keys. ¡°Isolde?¡± Belle stammered, rising quickly. ¡°You¡¯re back? Where¡¯s the breakfast?¡± Isolde turned slowly. She looked at Belle, then at Grayson. ¡°I didn¡¯t buy any,¡± she said, her voice stripped of all emotion. ¡°It looks like he¡¯s already being fed.¡± Grayson frowned. ¡°What is that attitude? Belle is doing us a favor.¡± ¡°A favor?¡± Isoldeughed ¡ª a harsh, jagged sound. ¡°Grayson, are you blind, or just stupid? She¡¯s auditioning for my role, and you just gave her the part.¡± . . . Chapter 151 Chapter 151: Belle gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes with impressive speed. ¡°That¡¯s horrible. I would never ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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.¡± ??????§Ñ??????? ???????? ??????r????y §àn ??§Ñ????????el??.??o?? 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª no alimony, no assets ¡ª 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.¡± . . . Chapter 152 Chapter 152: Isolde¡¯s hands curled into fists. This was her nightmare, spoken aloud. Belle stepped forward and ced a hand on Grayson¡¯s arm. ¡°Gray is right, Isolde. He¡¯s only thinking of Effie¡¯s future. You¡¯re unwell. You¡¯re emotional. Perhaps it¡¯s best if the children stay with us for now.¡± Us. Isolde looked at Belle. ¡°Shut your mouth. You don¡¯t get to speak her name.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t talk to her like that!¡± Grayson shouted. He shoved Isolde backward ¡ª not hard enough to knock her down, but hard enough to make her stumble. ¡°You¡¯re a disgrace ¡ª to this family, to my name! Get out. You are no longer Kaiden¡¯s guardian!¡± Isolde recovered her footing. She straightened her zer. She looked at Grayson with a rity that made him take an involuntary step back. ¡°A disgrace?¡± she said. ¡°Grayson, you¡¯re confused.¡± She took one step toward the door. ????a?? ???? ????§å ??????ic?? ???? ??????????????l??.????m ¡°I quit.¡± She paused in the doorframe. ¡°And as for Effie ¡ª I will prove I can support her. Watch me.¡± She walked out. ¡°Go away!¡± Kaiden screamed from the bed. ¡°I hate you!¡± He grabbed the heavy ss water tumbler from the bedside table and hurled it at the door with a grunt of effort. It missed Isolde by inches, shattering against the doorframe. Shards of ss sprayed across the floor, some skittering over the toes of her shoes. Isolde didn¡¯t flinch. She didn¡¯t look back. She kept walking. Grayson stared at the broken ss, chest heaving. He had expected to feel triumph. He had expected relief. Instead, he felt a cold draft move through the room, as though a vital wall of his house had just copsed. ¡°Oh, Gray,¡± Belle sighed, leaning into him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll take care of everything. We¡¯ll be so happy.¡± Isolde was three steps down the corridor when the screaming started again. ¡°Let me go! I want to hit her!¡± She heard the scuffle of sheets, the sounds of adults struggling to restrain a child. ¡°Kaiden, stop!¡± Grayson¡¯s voice. Then a heavy thud. Isolde turned ¡ª instinct overriding her resolve. Kaiden had broken free. He stood in the doorway, his face purple with rage, clutching Grayson¡¯s heavy, industrial-grade metal tablet ¡ª the one used for reviewing blueprints. ¡°Die!¡± Kaiden shrieked. He threw it. He put his entire body weight into the throw. The tablet spun through the air like a discus. Isolde sidestepped on pure reflex. But her heel came down on one of the ss shards from the shattered water tumbler. The slick, wet floor offered no purchase. Her feet went out from under her. She cried out ¡ª not in fear of the tablet, but at the sickening loss of bnce. She threw her right hand out to break her fall. Crack. The sound was sickening. Not the impact of metal, but of bone against hard linoleum. It echoed through the sterile hallway like a gunshot. Isolde gasped, the air driven clean out of her lungs. She crumpled against the corridor wall, clutching her right arm to her chest. . . . Chapter 153 Chapter 153: The tablet ttered further down the hall, its screen spiderwebbing on impact. Pain ¡ª white-hot, blinding, nauseating ¡ª exploded up her arm, radiating into her shoulder, her neck, her teeth. She looked down. Her right hand ¡ª the hand that had drafted the Phoenix-X7, the hand that had steered race cars at two hundred miles per hour ¡ª hung at a grotesque angle. Silence fell over the corridor. Grayson stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. He looked from the tablet to Isolde¡¯s wrist. ¡°Isolde¡­¡± he whispered. He took a step forward. ¡°Liam! Get a doctor! Now!¡± Isolde scrambled backward, pressing herself against the wall. ¡°Stay away from me!¡± ¡°I need to see it!¡± Grayson said, panic cracking through his voice. ¡°No!¡± The edges of her vision were going gray. Sweat broke out across her forehead. Inside the room, Belle was wrapping her arms around Kaiden, murmuring softly. ¡°Shh, shh, baby. It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s not your fault. She¡¯s so clumsy. It was an ident.¡± ?????¡¯?? ????ss ??e?? ??§Ö????a?§Ö? §à?? ??????n??v?????.??§à?? Isolde heard it. Through the roaring in her ears, she heard every word. She started tough ¡ª a wet, broken sound. Tears ran down her face, mixing with the cold sweat of shock. ¡°An ident,¡± she choked out. She looked at Grayson. ¡°You heard her. It¡¯s my fault I slipped.¡± Grayson looked helpless. ¡°Isolde, please¡ª¡± ¡°That snap,¡± Isolde said, her voice trembling but carrying. ¡°That was the sound of thest thread holding me to you.¡± She pushed herself off the wall. Every movement sent jagged spikes of agony through her arm. ¡°Tell your son,¡± she hissed, ¡°that this debt will be paid. With interest.¡± She turned. She dragged herself toward the elevator, unable to feel her fingers. She stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor with her left hand. The doors slid closed, shutting out the image of Grayson¡¯s pale face. Isolde leaned her head against the cool metal wall. She pulled out her phone, her left hand clumsy and trembling. She opened her contacts. Grayson Lancaster. Block. Belle Escobar. Block. Lancaster Residence. Block. She walked out of the hospital into the blinding afternoon sun and raised her hand for a cab. ¡°Where to?¡± the driver asked. Isolde cradled her broken arm against her chest. ¡°Nearest emergency room. Then St. Jude¡¯s School.¡± The driver nced in the rearview mirror and saw her wrist. His face went pale. ¡°Lady, you need an ambnce.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said, staring out at the New York skyline. ¡°I need my daughter.¡± The Tribeca apartment was stark and silent. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Hudson, the afternoon light glinting off minimalist steel and ss furniture. Isolde sat on the low-slung grey sofa, her right arm encased in a heavy ster cast that extended to her elbow. Her left arm ¡ª still aching from the drone strike ¡ª was out of its brace but stiff and weak. The ER doctor had called it a bad break. A distal radius fracture. Surgery might be neededter. For now, it was immobilized. The painkillers made her head swim. . . . Chapter 154 Chapter 154: The front door opened. The nanny, a kind older woman named Mrs. Gable, ushered Effie inside. ¡°Mommy!¡± Effie ran in, dropping her backpack ¡ª then stopped dead when she saw the cast. Herrge eyes filled with tears. ¡°Mommy? You¡¯re broken.¡± Isolde forced a smile. ¡°Just a little crack, baby. Like a teacup. It¡¯ll fix.¡± Effie walked over slowly and touched the white ster with a single finger. ¡°Does it hurt?¡± ¡°Not when I look at you,¡± Isolde said. ¡°How was school?¡± Effie nodded vaguely. Then she did something unexpected ¡ª instead of climbing onto the sofa for a cuddle, she grabbed her backpack and bolted for her bedroom. ¡°Effie?¡± Isolde called. ??§à???????? u? ??? ??a????????e????.?????? The bedroom door clicked shut. Isolde frowned. She struggled to her feet, the room tilting slightly, and walked to Effie¡¯s door and pushed it open. Effie was lying on her stomach on the rug. In front of her was Isolde¡¯s old engineering tablet ¡ª the backup that hadn¡¯t been destroyed ¡ª its screen glowing blue. ¡°Effie?¡± Effie startled. She tried to slide the tablet under her chest. ¡°Sorry! Sorry, Mommy! I didn¡¯t mean to touch!¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Isolde said, kneeling carefully and wincing as her arm jarred. ¡°Let me see.¡± Effie handed it over with trembling hands. Isolde looked at the screen. It was open to a draft file she had been working onte the previous night ¡ª a trajectory calction for a low-orbit satellite. She had been stuck on a single variable for hours. A small, highlighted annotation had been added to the screen, pointing to a specific section of a long string of code. Isolde stared. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs. ¡°Effie,¡± she whispered. ¡°Did you do this?¡± Effie looked down at her knees. ¡°The number was wrong, Mommy.¡± ¡°How did you know it was wrong?¡± ¡°It sounded scratchy,¡± Effie said, rubbing her ear. ¡°Like when a violin string snaps. The song in the math was broken.¡± Isolde looked at her daughter. Synesthesia. Number-form synesthesia ¡ª the ability to perceive numerical rtionships as sensory inputs: sound, color, texture. It was rare. In engineering, it was a superpower. She looked back at the screen, her eyes tracing the line Effie had marked. The girl was right. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible w ¡ª a non-linear distortion that would only manifest under extreme G-force, triggering a catastrophic feedback loop. Theputer hadn¡¯t caught it. But Effie had heard it. ¡°You found it,¡± Isolde breathed. ¡°Effie, you found the w.¡± Effie looked up, hopeful. ¡°I fixed it?¡± ¡°You helped Mommy fix it.¡± Isolde pulled Effie into a one-armed hug and buried her face in her daughter¡¯s hair. Tears came fast and hot, soaking into Effie¡¯s shirt. For five years, Grayson had called Effie slow. He had called her spacey. He had dismissed her because she hadn¡¯t spoken in full sentences until she was four. But she wasn¡¯t slow. She was operating on a frequency he couldn¡¯t even hear. ¡°You are a genius, Effie,¡± Isolde choked out. ¡°You are Mommy¡¯s brilliant girl.¡± Effie smiled ¡ª a true, blinding smile. . . . Chapter 155 Chapter 155: Isolde looked at her broken right hand. Then at the tablet in her left. God had taken her hand. But He had given her a partner. ¡°Come on,¡± Isolde said, wiping her eyes. ¡°We¡¯ve got work to do. Mommy has apany to save.¡± Three dayster. Isolde stood in the foyer of the Briggs family estate, a grand old house in Westchester where the paint was beginning to peel and the garden had surrendered to weeds. Her arm throbbed steadily in its sling. Her mother, Ellyn, opened the door. Her face was drawn, her eyes red-rimmed. ¡°Isolde!¡± Ellyn gasped, staring at the cast. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°I fell,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Where¡¯s Uncle Saul?¡± ???????? t??§Ö??e??? t??e??d?? o?? g????????????l??.c???? ¡°Upstairs. He¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s not good.¡± Isolde climbed the creaking staircase. The smell of sickness ¡ª old medicine, stale air ¡ª hung heavy in the hallway. Saul was lying in bed, a shadow of the man who used to toss her in the air when she was small. He coughed ¡ª a wet, rattling sound. ¡°Isolde,¡± he wheezed. ¡°Did you leave him?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Isolde said, settling on the edge of the bed. ¡°Tell me the truth, Saul. How bad is thepany?¡± Saul looked away. ¡°Bad.¡± Isolde turned to her mother. ¡°Mom. The books.¡± Ellyn hesitated, then crossed to the desk and retrieved a ledger. Isolde opened it with her left hand and scanned the columns, her eyes narrowing as they moved down the page. ¡°This debt,¡± she said, pointing to a massive red figure. ¡°Who holds the note?¡± ¡°A holdingpany,¡± Ellyn said, her voice uncertain. ¡°Vantage Corp.¡± ¡°Vantage Corp is a shell for InnoTech,¡± Isolde said tly. ¡°Cheryl Juarez.¡± Ellyn brought a hand to her mouth. ¡°Cheryl? But¡ª¡± ¡°She bought the debt note,¡± Isolde said. ¡°It¡¯s a poison pill. There¡¯s a use in the fine print that gives the debt holder a lien on our core patents if we default. She¡¯s going to call it in. She wants to cripple Carson Dynamics before the Orbital acquisition is finalized.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Ellyn whispered. ¡°Because she was Dad¡¯s mistress, and she hates that you got the ring,¡± Isolde said. ¡°She wants to erase the Carson name.¡± Saul coughed again. ¡°We tried to get refinancing through Henderson Capital. But Henderson won¡¯t meet with us.¡± ¡°Henderson,¡± Isolde murmured. ¡°The shark.¡± ¡°He¡¯s the only one with enough liquid capital to bridge the gap,¡± Saul said. ¡°If we don¡¯t secure a fifty-million-dor line of credit by Friday, she can legally seize the patents.¡± Isolde closed the ledger. ¡°I¡¯ll get the meeting.¡± ¡°How?¡± Ellyn asked, her eyes moving to the cast. ¡°You¡¯re injured. You¡¯re divorcing a Lancaster. No one will touch you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m going,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I have nothing left to lose.¡± ¡°Mommy!¡± Effie¡¯s voice floated up from downstairs. ¡°I found a mistake in the electric bill!¡± Isolde smiled grimly. ¡°Effie is helping.¡± She turned to her mother. ¡°Get the pitch deck ¡ª the old one. We¡¯re going to rewrite it tonight.¡± ¡°With one hand?¡± . . . Chapter 156 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 a connection the projection had failed to capture. ??????n????n?? ?§à???????? 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 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 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 ¡ª 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.¡± . . . Chapter 157 Chapter 157: Isolde didn¡¯t move. She held Henderson¡¯s gaze. ¡°If you sign with them without hearing me out, you will be funding the copse of a key national defense supplier. The Pentagon will not be pleased.¡± Henderson paused. He was a greedy man ¡ª but also a cautious one. ¡°She¡¯s bluffing,¡± Belle scoffed, gesturing toward the cast. ¡°She¡¯s just here to cause trouble.¡± ¡°Let her in,¡± Grayson said. Everyone turned to look at him. F??l?????? us o? ??al??ovel?.??om ¡°What?¡± Belle hissed. ¡°Let her in,¡± Grayson repeated, his eyes fixed on Isolde. ¡°If she thinks she has something to say, let her say it. Let¡¯s see what the great Chief Architect of Orbital Systems can offer without And Roth holding her hand.¡± It was a power move. He wanted to humiliate her in the boardroom ¡ª to prove that without him, she was nothing. Henderson shrugged. ¡°Fine. Five minutes. In the back.¡± Isolde took her mother¡¯s hand. ¡°Come on, Mom.¡± They walked into the lion¡¯s den. The conference room smelled of expensive coffee and arrogance. Isolde and Ellyn sat in the back corner like naughty schoolchildren. Grayson took the head of the table. Belle stood by the screen, clicker in hand. ¡°As you can see,¡± Belle began,unching into her presentation, ¡°InnoTech¡¯s strategy is to integrate and optimize existing frameworks. Our projections show that by acquiring Carson Dynamics¡¯ patent portfolio, we can streamline our production pipeline¡­¡± Isolde watched in silence. It was chilling. The slides weren¡¯t padded with buzzwords ¡ª they were a distorted reflection of her own five-year n for Carson, a n she had stored on a server at the Lancaster estate. Belle had stolen her work. Belle advanced to a financial projection slide. Isolde pulled a notepad from her bag and uncapped a pen with her teeth. She scrawled a note with her left hand: Stolen IP. Falsified synergy values. Henderson nodded along, mesmerized by Belle¡¯s delivery and Grayson¡¯s silent endorsement. ¡°And finally,¡± Belle said, beaming, ¡°we offer a generous settlement for the existing debt note, which will give us controlling interest in the IP.¡± Ellyn drew a sharp breath. ¡°It¡¯s a liquidation,¡± Isolde said clearly. She stood up. ¡°Sit down,¡± Grayson snapped. Isolde ignored him. She walked to the front of the room and positioned herself beside the whiteboard. ¡°Henderson,¡± she said. ¡°Look at slide fourteen.¡± Belle moved to block the screen. ¡°Excuse me!¡± Isolde stepped around her. She picked up a dry-erase marker with her left hand, her grip awkward but her voice perfectly steady. ¡°The synergy value projected here,¡± Isolde said, circling a number with a shaky but legible line, ¡°is based on integrating Carson¡¯s Helios guidance system with InnoTech¡¯s drone chassis. But you¡¯ve ignored the material ipatibility. The Helios system requires a carbon-nanofiber housing to dissipate heat. Your chassis is aluminum alloy. You¡¯re not creating synergy ¡ª you¡¯re building a flying oven.¡± Her handwriting was jagged, but the diagram she produced was brutal in its rity: a heat-flow chart ending in catastrophic failure. ¡°You didn¡¯t just steal my n,¡± Isolde said, turning to look at Belle. ¡°You stole it badly. You copied the words without understanding the physics.¡± The room went dead silent. . . . Chapter 158 Chapter 158: Cheryl¡¯s face turned a shade of gray. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a minor engineering hurdle.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a multi-million-dor recall,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And it¡¯s fraud.¡± She turned back to Henderson. ¡°If you invest in InnoTech¡¯s n, you are knowingly purchasing stolen, non-functional intellectual property.¡± Henderson stared at the whiteboard, then at his tablet, his fingers moving rapidly across the screen. Sweat beaded on his forehead. ¡°The thermal dissipation specs¡­¡± He trailed off. ¡°She¡¯s right.¡± Grayson stared at Isolde. He had never seen her like this ¡ª sharp, ruthless, brilliant. A surge of something dangerous moved through him. Attraction. And fear. ¡°Isolde,¡± Grayson said, his voice dropping low. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± ????e??l?? ??§Ö????????§Ös o?? ????????????????.?????? He rose and looked at Henderson. ¡°If you don¡¯t fund InnoTech, SkyLine pulls its ounts from your firm.¡± It was a nuclear threat. SkyLine was Henderson¡¯srgest client. Henderson went still. He looked at the math on the board. Then he looked at the billionaire threatening him. Greed won. Fear won. ¡°Ms. Carson,¡± Henderson said, dabbing his forehead. ¡°Thank you for your input. But Mr. Lancaster¡¯s endorsement carries significant weight. We will proceed with InnoTech.¡± Belle exhaled a breath she had been holding for minutes. A smirk spread across her face. ¡°Nice try, sweetie. Go home.¡± Isolde dropped the marker. It ttered against the table. She had won the argument. She had lost the deal. ¡°You¡¯re making a mistake,¡± she said to Henderson. ¡°Security,¡± Henderson said quietly. Isolde walked out, her head high. But inside, she was screaming. Ellyn was sobbing by the elevator. ¡°It¡¯s over. They¡¯re going to take the house. They¡¯re going to take everything.¡± Isolde leaned against the wall, her left hand trembling, the weight of the cast dragging at her arm. The conference room door swung open. Henderson was walking the Lancasters out. ¡°Excellent meeting,¡± Henderson was saying, his voice too loud, too eager. ¡°Mr. Lancaster, I trust the InnoTech deal will go more smoothly than that merger in London you mentionedst year? I recall you saying it was quite the headache.¡± Isolde froze. London. Last year. Grayson had told her he was in London for a merger. It was the same week Kaiden had pneumonia ¡ª the week Isolde, running a fever herself, had been awake for ny hours straight. Herwyer had recently pulled his credit card statements from that period. There were no charges from London. There was, however, a five-day charge from a Four Seasons water vi in the Maldives. He wasn¡¯t in London. He was in a water vi. With Belle. Isolde turned slowly. Grayson saw her face. He saw the realizationnd. He stopped walking. Belle giggled, entirely oblivious. ¡°Oh, that trip was magical. Gray took the most amazing photos of me on the beach.¡± The coldness that spread through Isolde¡¯s chest was absolute. It wasn¡¯t anger. It was the final nail in a coffin already sealed. This wasn¡¯t a new betrayal ¡ª only another cheap, pathetic lie stacked atop a mountain of them. . . . Chapter 159 Chapter 159: ¡°London,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was quiet, but it carried clearly across the lobby. ¡°It rains a lot in London, doesn¡¯t it, Grayson?¡± Grayson¡¯s jaw tightened. He said nothing. He couldn¡¯t. Isolde walked toward him and stopped toe-to-toe with him. ¡°You lied to me while I nursed your sick child,¡± she whispered. ¡°You were drinking cocktails while I was wiping vomit.¡± ¡°Isolde¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± she cut him off. ¡°Don¡¯t speak.¡± ????????????§Ñ?? ???????? ???????? o? ???????o????????.??o?? She leaned in closer. ¡°You think you won today because you have the money. But you forgot one thing, Grayson. Money can buy a house. It cannot buy physics.¡± She stepped back. She looked at Belle, then at Cheryl. ¡°I am going to defend Carson Dynamics,¡± Isolde announced. ¡°And then I am going to buy InnoTech for pennies on the dor after it implodes. And I will make you watch.¡± She took her mother¡¯s arm. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± They stepped into the elevator. As the doors slid closed, Isolde caught onest look at Grayson¡¯s face. He looked terrified. Good. In the cab, Ellyn was still crying. ¡°How can we save it? Henderson said no.¡± Isolde scrolled past the blocked numbers on her phone and pressed call. It rang once. Twice. ¡°Hello?¡± A male voice. ¡°And,¡± Isolde said. A silence. The sound of a chair scraping back. ¡°Isolde?¡± And Roth¡¯s voice shifted instantly ¡ª sharp, concerned. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? I saw you leave the office early. Is it Effie?¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°It¡¯s war. Cheryl Juarez is making a y for Carson¡¯s patents. Grayson is backing her.¡± And swore under his breath. ¡°How much do you need to shut them down?¡± ¡°Fifty million. Liquid. By Friday.¡± And didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Consider it done. What¡¯s our first move?¡± ¡°You handle the money,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the weapon. I¡¯m going to leak the design w in InnoTech¡¯s core product. We¡¯re going to short their stock into oblivion.¡± ¡°Music to my ears,¡± And said. ¡°Wee to the fight, Isolde. It¡¯s about time.¡± Isolde hung up and looked out at the city scrolling past the window. The housewife was dead. The Phantom was back. Isolde gripped the armrest of the ck Lincoln town car ¡ª a vehicle from Orbital Systems¡¯ executive transport pool ¡ª her knuckles white against the plush leather. Every turn the driver made through the chaotic midtown traffic sent a fresh spike of agony radiating from her cast up to her shoulder. She didn¡¯t flinch. She didn¡¯t have the luxury of pain today. The call hade an hour ago, shattering the fragile quiet of her Tribeca apartment. Mrs. Gable, the nanny, her voice choked with tears. ¡°He just ¡ª he showed up at the school, Ms. Isolde. He had a court document, a temporary order for an unscheduled visit. He took her. He said he was taking her for ice cream.¡± But the GPS tracker on Effie¡¯s watch ¡ª a device Isolde had insisted on from the beginning ¡ª told a different story. It showed a single, unmoving dot in a part of Queens they hadn¡¯t set foot in for six years. A ce filled with ghosts he knew she hated. . . . Chapter 160 Chapter 160: ¡°Are you sure he¡¯s there?¡± Ellyn asked from the seat beside her, clutching her purse with trembling hands. ¡°Taking Effie to that old house ¡ª it¡¯s cruel, Isolde. It¡¯s a message.¡± ¡°He¡¯s cornered,¡± Isolde said, her eyes fixed on the blur of the city beyond the window. ¡°SkyLine¡¯s stock is in freefall since the DOD contract went public. The board is demanding answers. He thinks holding Effie gives him leverage.¡± ¡°Leverage for what?¡± Ellyn whispered. ¡°Orbital owns Carson Dynamics now. The Phoenix-X7 is your IP. He has nothing left to take.¡± ¡°He wants to take my name,¡± Isolde said, her voice dropping to a low growl. ¡°He wants to salvage his reputation at the Aerospace Summit next week. And he¡¯s willing to use our daughter to do it.¡± The car pulled to the curb in front of a modest two-story brick house. It looked smaller than she remembered, and sadder ¡ª a fortress built entirely of bad memories. They walked up the cracked pathway. Isolde wore her navy zer draped over her shoulders to conceal the bulk of the cast. Ellyn moved beside her like a trapped bird, her eyes darting across the overgrown yard. The front door was unlocked. Isolde pushed it open. Grayson was sitting on the lumpy beige sofa they had bought at IKEA six years ago. He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. A mug of what smelled like instant coffee sat on the bare table beside him. He looked up as she entered. The room was stale, smelling of dust and desperation. ¡°You came,¡± he said. No triumph in his voice ¡ª just a t statement of fact. ¡°Where is she?¡± Isolde demanded. ???????a??t a§ã??????? §à?? g??????o????l??.§ã???? ¡°Upstairs,¡± Grayson said, gesturing with his mug. ¡°Sleeping. She was tired.¡± ¡°You have no right,¡± Isolde said, stepping further into the room. ¡°The custody agreement is clear. No unscheduled visits without my consent.¡± ¡°We need to talk,¡± Grayson said, ignoring her. ¡°About the Summit.¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing to talk about,¡± Isolde said. ¡°You lost. It¡¯s over.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not over until I say it is,¡± he replied, his eyes hardening. ¡°SkyLine is still a major yer, and we are unveiling a prototype.¡± ¡°An illegal, non-functional prototype based on stolen IP,¡± Isolde corrected him. ¡°The world doesn¡¯t know that,¡± Grayson said. ¡°They see the name Lancaster. But they also see the name Carson associated with Orbital. It¡¯s messy. I¡¯m here to offer a way to clean it up.¡± He wanted a truce. No ¡ª he wanted a surrender. And he had brought their daughter into the line of fire to get it. The old house was a silent tomb. The only sounds were the rhythmic drip of a leaky kitchen faucet and the faint hum of the ancient refrigerator ¡ª a stark contrast to the storm gathering in the living room. ¡°Let me see her,¡± Isolde demanded, her voice low and dangerous. Grayson hesitated, then nodded. ¡°Effie! Come say hello to Mommy!¡± A small figure appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching a worn-out teddy bear. Her eyes were puffy ¡ª from sleep, or perhaps from crying. ¡°Mommy?¡± Effie¡¯s voice was barely a whisper. . . . Chapter 161 Chapter 161: Isolde¡¯sposure cracked. She moved toward the stairs, but Grayson rose from his seat and stepped into her path. ¡°Stay here,¡± hemanded. ¡°We talk first.¡± ¡°Get out of my way, Grayson.¡± ¡°So you can grab her and run?¡± he scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Sit down. Let¡¯s be civilized.¡± ???????? ???§ç?? f§Ñ??o??it?? r??§Ñ?? ?s ??? ??????n????e???.??§àm Isolde stood her ground, her body vibrating with rage. She looked past him to Effie and forced a smile that felt like broken ss. ¡°It¡¯s okay, sweetie,¡± she said. ¡°Mommy¡¯s just talking to Daddy. Go back to your room for a minute. I¡¯ll be right up.¡± Effie looked uncertainly between her parents, then slowly retreated. The soft click of the bedroom door echoed through the house. The moment it shut, Isolde turned on him. ¡°If you have harmed one hair on her head ¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°Better than fine. She¡¯s with her father. Unlike her mother, who¡¯s been too busy ying CEO to even notice she was gone for three hours.¡± The usationnded like a physical blow. ¡°I am building a future for her. You are using her as a shield because you are a failure.¡± A shadow fell across the doorway. Liam, Grayson¡¯s driver, stood at the threshold, eyes fixed on the floor. ¡°Sir,¡± Liam said quietly. ¡°We need to leave if you¡¯re going to make your meeting.¡± ¡°Cancel it,¡± Grayson said without looking at him. He turned his attention back to Isolde. ¡°Get in your car. We¡¯ll finish this conversation on the way back to the city.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere without my daughter.¡± ¡°She¡¯lle with us,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Liam can drive her and your mother back to the penthouse. You and I will ride together. We have terms to discuss.¡± It wasn¡¯t a request. It was a threat. He was separating her from Effie again, using her daughter as a hostage in a conversation she had no desire to have. She had no choice. For now. ¡°Fine,¡± she spat. She walked back to her own car, where Ellyn was waiting anxiously. Liam retrieved a sleepy Effie and buckled her into the back of the Lincoln alongside Ellyn. Watching her daughter be driven away by her enemy¡¯s men sent a fresh stab of pain through her chest. She got into the passenger seat of Grayson¡¯s Maybach. He slid in behind the wheel. The interior smelled of leather and sandalwood ¡ª Grayson¡¯s scent. It was a visceral trigger, summoning memories of safety that now felt like lies. He merged onto the expressway. The silence between them was thick with unspoken violence. Grayson nced at Isolde. Rainwater was still dripping from her hair from the short walk outside. He reached into apartment and produced a thick, plush towel, tossing it into herp. ¡°Dry off,¡± he said coldly. ¡°Water stains the leather. The detailing fee is astronomical.¡± Isolde caught the towel with her left hand. ¡°I¡¯ll send you a check.¡± ¡°With what funds?¡± Grayson asked, a bitter edge sharpening his voice. ¡°Your new friends at Orbital paying you that well already?¡± . . . Chapter 162 Chapter 162: Isolde didn¡¯t answer. She dried her hair in brisk, aggressive strokes, then tossed the towel onto the back seat. ¡°Just say what you want, Grayson,¡± she said, staring out the window. ¡°So I can say no and we can get on with our lives.¡± ¡°I want the Summit,¡± he said. ¡°You can¡¯t have it. The Phoenix-X7 is Orbital¡¯s keynote. I¡¯m presenting.¡± ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong,¡± Grayson said, his voice turning smooth and predatory. ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± Isolde watched the Lincoln carrying her daughter in thene ahead ¡ª a lifeline she refused to let out of her sight. She sat as far from Grayson as the spacious cabin allowed, pressing herself against the door. The heat of the car was seeping into her frozen bones, making her shiver despite herself. Then therge infotainment screen on the dashboard flickered to life, piercing the dim cabin with high-definition brightness. Grayson¡¯s phone had automatically connected to the car¡¯s system, syncing his cloud data. A notification banner slid across the top: ¡°On This Day: 5 Years Ago.¡± ????o??s?????s o?? r??§Ñ???????? ??n ??§Ñ???o??§Öl??.?????? Before Grayson could swipe it away, the slideshow began. A massive, crystal-clear image filled the screen ¡ª not a spreadsheet or a boardroom, but a world of turquoise water and white sand. In the center of the frame, Grayson sat at a table inside a ss tunnel surrounded by deep blue ocean and tropical fish. He was holding a champagne ss, smiling at the camera ¡ª at Belle. On the table before him sat a decadent chocte cake, its icing spelling out words legible even from the back seat: Happy 5th Anniversary. Grayson cursed under his breath, his hand pping the screen frantically until he found the Disconnect button. The image vanished, reced by the dark navigation map. But the afterimage lingered in the air like a ghost. Isolde didn¡¯t react. She didn¡¯t gasp. She slowly turned her head, her expression unreadable, and watched Grayson¡¯s reflection in the dark window. The silence that followed was deafening ¡ª heavy, suffocating, violent. She let it stretch until it was thin and sharp. ¡°Va Private Ind,¡± she said atst, her voice eerily calm. ¡°The underwater restaurant. And the date on the screen ¡ª October 14th.¡± She paused, letting the date hang between them. ¡°That would have been the week Kaiden had pneumonia. The week I was running a 102-degree fever and hadn¡¯t slept for four days straight. You told me you were in London for the merger.¡± Grayson didn¡¯t turn around. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek. Isolde gave a small, mirthless smile that never reached her eyes. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a marriage anniversary, was it, Grayson?¡± she said, her voice dropping to a soft, chilling whisper. ¡°The cake said five years. Five years since you started¡­¡± Grayson nced at her in the rearview mirror. He had expected screaming. He had expected tears. He had expected the Isolde who used to beg for his attention. Instead, he saw a woman examining a specimen under a microscope. . . . Chapter 163 Chapter 163: ¡°It was a business trip,¡± he said, his voice tight. ¡°A retreat. Belle was there as a strategic advisor.¡± ¡°Strategic advisor,¡± Isolde repeated, testing the words. ¡°Does a strategic advisor require renting out an underwater restaurant for a romantic dinner? Or is that simply a perk of the job?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand the optics,¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°We were courting investors.¡± ¡°Stop.¡± She didn¡¯t shout. She simply cut him off with de-like precision. ¡°Your lies are clumsy, Grayson. They insult my intelligence.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t lie,¡± he insisted, desperate to regain control of the narrative. ¡°I omitted details to protect you. You were stressed with Kaiden.¡± ¡°Kaiden,¡± Isolde said. The name hung in the air. ¡°Yes. Kaiden. My son. Who I provide for.¡± Isolde let out a short, darkugh. ¡°Your son. Yes. He certainly is.¡± Grayson¡¯s eyes narrowed in the mirror. ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± ¡°It means,¡± Isolde said, turning to face him directly, ¡°that I¡¯m done pretending. The motion to invalidate the NDA was filedst week on grounds of fraud. You know this. We both know the truth.¡± Grayson mmed on the brakes. ????§Ö ???????? ??§à??????§Ñ?? ??????????s on ??§Ñ??????????????.c??m The Maybach skidded on the wet asphalt, the ABS pulsing beneath them. The Lincoln ahead swerved, its horn ring. The car ground to a halt in the middle of thene as horns erupted around them. Grayson twisted over the center console, his face pale, his eyes wild. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± he hissed. ¡°I would,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°I know he¡¯s not Evander¡¯s son. I know he¡¯s yours. And hers. And soon, so will a judge.¡± The words were not a revtion to him ¡ª they were a confirmation of his worst fears. She wasn¡¯t merely suspicious. She had acted. ¡°You made me raise your mistress¡¯s child,¡± Isolde said, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. ¡°You made me wipe his tears, feed him, love him ¡ª while you two yed house in the Maldives.¡± Grayson opened his mouth. No sound came out. The denial died in his throat. The truth was a physical presence in the car, consuming all the oxygen. ¡°You are sick,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Both of you.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll destroy the family name,¡± Grayson whispered, his voice trembling. ¡°You¡¯ll destroy Kaiden.¡± ¡°You did that five years ago,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯m just opening the curtains.¡± She tapped the dashboard. ¡°Drive the car. Unless you want your panic attack to make the evening news.¡± Grayson slowly turned back around. He signaled to the driver behind him and eased the Maybach onto the shoulder. He said nothing more. He couldn¡¯t. The power in the car had shifted irrevocably ¡ª he was no longer the captor. He was the one in the cage. Isolde leaned her head back against the seat. She felt lighter. The secret that had been poisoning her for years was now a weapon in her hand. The fluorescent lights of the Orbital Systems office lobby hummed with a low, efficient buzz. . . . Chapter 164 Chapter 164: Isolde sat in a plush armchair in her own office, her arm propped on a pillow. The doctor had given her antibiotics and a stern lecture about stress. Ellyn and Effie were safe in the penthouse, with two of And¡¯s security guards posted discreetly in the hall. Grayson had dropped her at the curb like unwanted luggage, his face a mask of fury and fear. He hadn¡¯t gotten his way. Not yet. But he had nted a seed of doubt. The Summit. He wanted to ruin it for her. She pulled out her phone with her left hand and dialed And. ¡°Isolde?¡± His voice was warm ¡ª a stark contrast to the coldness of thest hour. ¡°Is everything alright? My security team checked in.¡± S???????????? ?????? ??????¡¯t p???? ??ow?? o?? ????????????el?.c???? ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said vaguely. ¡°And, about the Summit ¡ª Grayson is nning something. He wants my keynote slot.¡± There was a pause. ¡°He can¡¯t take it. It¡¯s registered to you, as Chief Architect of the Orbital-Carson division. He has no authority.¡± Isolde closed her eyes. Grayson wouldn¡¯t use authority. He would use ckmail. Effie. The family name. ¡°He wants to put Belle on stage,¡± she whispered. ¡°To present the Phoenix.¡± ¡°That¡¯s insane,¡± And said, his voice hardening. ¡°She¡¯d beughed off the stage. She doesn¡¯t know the first thing about hypersonic flight dynamics.¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t care,¡± Isolde said, staring out at the city lights. ¡°It¡¯s about saving face. He wants to create enough chaos to make the DOD question their investment ¡ª to make it look like a messy domestic dispute rather than a clean acquisition.¡± ¡°He¡¯s desperate,¡± And concluded. ¡°So what¡¯s our move? We could get a restraining order, have SkyLine barred from the event for IP theft.¡± ¡°No.¡± A n was forming in her mind, cold and sharp. ¡°A public fight is exactly what he wants. It makes us both look unstable. We¡¯re going to do something else.¡± ¡°What are you thinking?¡± ¡°He wants a tform for Belle?¡± Isolde said, a dangerous edge entering her voice. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll give him one. Just not the one he¡¯s expecting.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t follow.¡± ¡°The whole world knows I¡¯m Sophia now,¡± Isolde said. ¡°A badge with that name on it is just a target. I need to be invisible. Can you get me a credential ¡ª a generic one? No name, or a false one. Something low-level.¡± ¡°You want to go undercover at your own victoryp?¡± And asked, understanding dawning in his voice. ¡°The point,¡± Isolde said, a slow smile spreading across her face, ¡°is that ¡®Isolde Carson, CEO,¡¯ has a reserved seat in the front row he can steal. ¡®Anna Smith, avionics technician,¡¯ has ess to the service corridors, the loading docks, and the presentation servers.¡± A long silence on the other end of the line. Then a low whistle. ¡°You¡¯re going to let them walk into a trap.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to let them build their own stage,¡± Isolde said. ¡°And then I¡¯m going to burn it to the ground.¡± She hung up. She walked out of her office, where Marcus, one of And¡¯s men, was waiting. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he said, nodding respectfully. ¡°The bill for my mother¡¯s nebulizer treatmentst week,¡± she said. ¡°Send the invoice to Grayson Lancaster. With a note: ¡®For services rendered.''¡± . . . Chapter 165 Chapter 165: Her phone buzzed. A text from Harper: The micro-drone prototypes are ready for the booth. Coded and calibrated. Everything was falling into ce. Isolde realized then that she had run out of road ¡ª and had started building a bridge. Grayson had systematically tried to close every door, block every exit, and burn every bridge. He had herded her to this exact spot, expecting her to fight him on his terms. She was about to show him what it looked like to fight on hers. She turned back to Marcus. ¡°I have a meeting tomorrow,¡± she said. Marcus blinked. ¡°At Lancaster Tower, ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°Yes. Tell Grayson I¡¯m ready to discuss the terms of my surrender.¡± Marcus hesitated. ¡°But you¡¯re not¡­¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to know that. Tell him I¡¯ll be there at ten.¡± ????????????§å ??????n????a??i????s ???? ??al??????§Ö????.§ã???? The conference room at the top of Lancaster Tower was a ss box floating in the clouds. It was enemy territory, and Isolde walked in ready for battle. She had agreed to meet him on his turf to sell the illusion of her defeat. Grayson sat at the head of the long ss table ¡ª his usual seat. He had put his suit jacket back on, the armor of the CEO firmly in ce. Belle sat to his right, a triumphant smirk already ying on her lips. Daron McKnight stood by the window, looking smug. ¡°You came,¡± Grayson said. Triumph had returned to his voice. He thought he had won. ¡°You have my daughter,¡± Isolde said, closing the door behind her. ¡°You knew I woulde.¡± ¡°I hoped you would see reason,¡± Grayson said, pushing a folder across the table. ¡°Here is the term sheet.¡± Isolde picked up the papers with her left hand, her eyes moving quickly across the legal jargon. ¡°A gag order regarding Kaiden¡¯s parentage,¡± Grayson recited. ¡°A public statement of support for SkyLine¡¯s ¡®independent development¡¯ of their new prototype. And the Summit ¡ª Carson Dynamics, now an Orbital subsidiary, has a VIP invite and a keynote slot reserved for the CEO. I want you to transfer the invitation and the speaking slot to Belle.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t know a turbine from a toaster,¡± Isolde said tly. ¡°She has charisma,¡± Grayson countered. ¡°She sells the dream. You are too technical. You bore the investors.¡± A surge of hatred so pure it nearly blinded her rose through Isolde¡¯s chest. He was offering her peace at the cost of her life¡¯s work and her silence. The throbbing in her arm intensified, a dull, grinding ache. She reached into her bag with her left hand and pulled out a small, unmarked prescription bottle ¡ª the pain medication the Orbital physician had prescribed, stronger than anything avable over the counter. Her wrist was chafing against the ster. She needed relief. She struggled with the child-proof cap, her left hand clumsy and weak. Finally, bracing the bottle against the edge of the table, she managed to twist it open with a sharp grunt of pain. The faint, sterile smell of the pills drifted into the air. . . . Chapter 166 Chapter 166: Belle¡¯s eyes went wide. She leaned forward. ¡°Hey ¡ª is that my painkiller?¡± Isolde paused, her fingers hovering over the bottle. ¡°What?¡± ¡°That bottle!¡± Belle pointed. ¡°The hexagonal pills. Oxy-Neurol. Gray, you told me I lost my prescription on the jet! You said the cleaners threw it out!¡± Isolde looked at Grayson. He shifted in his seat, refusing to meet her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a spare,¡± he mumbled. ¡°No, it¡¯s not!¡± Belleughed, a high, tinkling sound. ¡°Look at thebel. It has my name on it. I recognize the pharmacy.¡± Isolde slowly turned the bottle over. There, on the pharmacybel, were the words: Isabe Escobar. The realization struck her like a p. When her arm had been in excruciating pain the other night, he hadn¡¯t called a doctor. He had simply reached into his briefcase and tossed her his mistress¡¯s leftover painkillers ¡ª because her pain was an inconvenience. She had been using Belle¡¯s discarded medicine. A wave of nausea so strong she tasted bile rolled through her. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Belle giggled. ¡°Isolde, that¡¯s for my chronic migraines, sweetie. But I suppose it works for ¡ª whatever happened to you. Keep it. My doctor gives me refills whenever I want.¡± ???? ????e ?????????? t§à ???????? ???? ??????????????????.??§à?? Isolde stood up. The chair flew back. She crossed to the corner of the room where a sleek stainless steel trash can stood. ¡°Careful,¡± Daron sneered. ¡°That stuff has a high street value.¡± Isolde held the bottle over the bin and looked at Grayson. ¡°You are cheap,¡± she said. ¡°In every sense of the word.¡± She let go. The bottle hit the bottom of the empty metal bin with a loud, hollow ng. ¡°I don¡¯t ept trash,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Even if it¡¯s prescription-grade.¡± Grayson¡¯s face darkened. ¡°Isolde, stop being dramatic.¡± ¡°Dramatic?¡± She walked back to the table. ¡°I¡¯m being hygienic.¡± She picked up a pen. ¡°Fine. You want the seat? Take it.¡± Isolde stared at the contract. The paper was crisp, white, and heavy ¡ª it felt like a temporary ceasefire agreement. ¡°You¡¯re giving her my tform,¡± Isolde said quietly. ¡°You¡¯re putting a fraud on stage.¡± ¡°I¡¯m putting a face on stage,¡± Grayson corrected. ¡°Belle is marketable. She represents the future of SkyLine.¡± ¡°She represents a lie,¡± Isolde murmured. She picked up the pen. Her left hand was clumsy, forcing her to grip the barrel at an awkward angle just to keep it steady. She thought about Saul, whose experimental treatments were now fully funded by Orbital. She thought about Ellyn, safe and secure for the first time in years. She thought of Effie, waiting for her mother to bring her home. This signature was a key. It would unlock her daughter¡¯s door. She pressed the pen to the paper. Isolde Carson. She didn¡¯t sign ¡°Lancaster.¡± Grayson noticed. His eyes flicked to the signature, but he said nothing. He pulled the papers away the moment she lifted the pen. ¡°Smart choice,¡± he said, sliding the documents into his briefcase. ¡°Liam will bring Effie to the penthouse within the hour. The transfer of the Summit credentials will be handled electronically.¡± . . . Chapter 167 Chapter 167: He stood and buttoned his jacket. The transformation was instant ¡ª he was no longer the desperate man in the Queens house. He was the triumphant CEO of SkyLine. ¡°I have one condition,¡± Isolde added, her voice cold. ¡°Name it.¡± ¡°Belle can have the seat. She can have the title. But the physical prototype of the Phoenix-X7 ¡ª the one currently in Orbital¡¯s possession ¡ª does not leave our facility. You can disy your own mockup. But you do not touch my jet.¡± Grayson waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Fine. We have our own disy model. It¡¯s just for show anyway.¡± He didn¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t know that his disy model had a fatal design w. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡± Grayson asked. Isolde looked at the man she had once promised to love forever ¡ª a man now using their own child as a bargaining chip. ??§à????nce ????????ls ??? ????????§à????????.?????? ¡°The deal is done.¡± He walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. He turned back to take in the room: the expensive table, the woman with the broken arm sitting in the hard light. ¡°Isolde,¡± he said, his voice softening just a fraction. ¡°If you had just stopped fighting ¡ª if you had just epted your role ¡ª we could have beenfortable.¡± Isolde rose from her chair and cradled her cast. ¡°Comfortable,¡± she repeated. ¡°Like a pet. Like a piece of furniture.¡± She met his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t wantfort, Grayson. I want the sky.¡± Grayson shook his head, genuine pity settling across his face. ¡°You¡¯re grounded, Isolde. Look at you. You have nothing.¡± He opened the door and walked out into the hall. Isolde listened to the sound of his footsteps until they faded into silence. Then she sank back into the chair, shaking. She had sold her seat. She had sold her voice. But she smiled ¡ª a cold, sharp smile in the quiet of the empty room. He thought he had grounded her. He thought that taking away the ¡°Isolde Carson¡± seat meant taking away her ess. He had forgotten who she really was. The heavy silence of the conference room pressed in on Isolde after they left. She didn¡¯t move for a long time, simply staring at the empty space where Grayson had stood. The adrenaline faded, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and the relentless throb in her arm. She had won her daughter¡¯s freedom, but the cost felt immense. Finally, she pushed herself to her feet. Her phone buzzed ¡ª a notification from her security team. Effie is home. Safe. She let out a breath she felt she had been holding for days. Thepany was safe. Saul could get his treatment. Ellyn wouldn¡¯t lose the house. And her daughter was back. She had sold her pride, but she had bought their safety. ¡°Well,¡± Daron McKnight said, re-entering the room with a smug grin. He had clearly been waiting in the hall. ¡°Looks like the former Mrs. Lancaster is officially out of the game. Back to the kitchen, Isolde? Or are you going to take up knitting with that broken arm?¡± . . . Chapter 168 Chapter 168: Isolde slung her bag over her good shoulder and looked at him. ¡°Knitting involves patterns, Daron,¡± she said coolly. ¡°Something you struggle with ¡ª like the pattern of your failures.¡± Daron¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°Enjoy the Summit,¡± she said, her gaze sweeping over him as though he were a piece of lint on the carpet. ¡°The air is thin up there. Try not to suffocate.¡± She turned and walked out. She didn¡¯t look back. As the elevator doors slid shut, closing off thest sight of Lancaster Tower, Isolde slumped against the wall. She was exhausted. But she was free. She walked out of the building into the bright, harsh sunlight of Manhattan and hailed a cab. ¡°Where to?¡± ???????? ????e?? ?????e???? ??? g§Ñ??????v§Ö????.????m ¡°Carson Dynamics HQ,¡± she said. Then she pulled out her phone and dialed And. ¡°It¡¯s done. He took the bait. I gave up the seat.¡± ¡°And the badge?¡± And asked. ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± Isolde said. ¡°When does it arrive?¡± ¡°Courier should be at yourb in an hour. Wee back.¡± Isolde hung up. She looked at her reflection in the cab window. She looked tired, pale, and broken. But the woman staring back at her had fire in her eyes. The elevator ride down felt like a descent from one hell into another. In the sterile, mirrored walls, Isolde saw a stranger ¡ª her face pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion, the white ster of the cast a stark symbol of her vulnerability. But beneath the surface, a cold resolve was hardening into steel. Grayson thought he had won. He thought he had taken everything. He was wrong. As the cab sped toward the Carson Dynamics building, Isolde¡¯s mind was already racing ¡ª calcting variables, running scenarios. Belle on stage. The wed prototype. The investors. The DOD. It was aplex equation, and she was about to solve for X, where X stood for Grayson¡¯splete and utter humiliation. Her phone buzzed. A text from Grayson: Credentials transferred. Don¡¯t make a scene at the Summit. A threat disguised as a warning. She didn¡¯t bother to reply. Instead, she opened a secure messaging app and sent a single word to Harper. Execute. A momentter, the reply came back. Phase one initiated. The breadcrumbs areid. Isolde leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. The game had been reset. Grayson was ying checkers. She was ying three-dimensional chess. The cab pulled up to the familiar entrance of her family¡¯spany, now under the Orbital umbre. The building felt different now ¡ª safer, stronger. It was her fortress. She walked through the lobby, ignoring the curious nces at her cast, and didn¡¯t stop at her new corner office with its sweeping view. She went down instead. To the basement. To theb. To her true home. The moment she stepped inside, the familiar smell of ozone and hot metal washed over her, calming her frayed nerves. This was where she belonged ¡ª not in boardrooms filled with lies, but here, surrounded by the beautiful, immutablews of physics. . . . Chapter 169 Chapter 169: She looked at her reflection in the dark screen of a monitor. The tired woman from the elevator was gone. In her ce stood an engineer. A creator. A fighter. She was ready. The basementb at Carson Dynamics was cool and smelled of ozone and solder. It was Isolde¡¯s sanctuary. For thest three days, she had practically lived here. Effie sat at a small desk in the corner, coloring in a schematic with crayons and asionally pointing out a ¡°wrong color¡± in the flow chart. She was safe here, surrounded by her mother¡¯s work and a discreet security detail. Isolde was working on a micro-drone ¡ª tiny, the size of a hummingbird, designed for swarm surveince. It was the only thing she could showcase at the Orbital Systems booth without drawing too much attention. For now. A knock at the door. Harper walked in, holding a FedEx envelope. ¡°It¡¯s here,¡± Harper said, her eyes bright. Isolde took the envelope with her left hand and ripped it open with her teeth. Inside was a simple styard. No photo. No grand title. Just three lines of text: ??e???? ??????ho???? ??n????r??????t??????? on ??§Ñ????§à????l??.?????? NAME: ANNA SMITH ROLE: AVIONICS TECHNICIAN ORG: ORBITAL SYSTEMS Isolde ran her thumb over the name. It felt like slipping on a familiar uniform. ¡°And called,¡± Harper said. ¡°He sent the guest list. It¡¯s confirmed ¡ª Administrator Sterling from the DOD is attending.¡± Isolde looked up sharply. ¡°Sterling? He neveres to these things.¡± ¡°He¡¯sing for the Phoenix. And there¡¯s more. SkyLine just put out a press release. To counter the bad press, they¡¯re nning ast-minute surprise for the finale ¡ª a live flight demonstration of their prototype.¡± Isolde went still. ¡°They built a functional model? From my stolen, iplete schematics?¡± ¡°They must have,¡± Harper said grimly. ¡°They¡¯re desperate. They want to prove it¡¯s real.¡± She turned on the small TV mounted in the corner. A business news channel filled the screen. Belle was being interviewed outside Lancaster Tower, wearing a hard hat that looked ridiculous against her perfectly coiffed hair. ¡°Yes,¡± Belle was saying to the reporter, shing a dazzling smile. ¡°The Phoenix-X7 was abor of love. I¡¯ve always had a passion for aerodynamics. I provided the ¡ª strategic vision for the airframe.¡± Isolde snorted. ¡°Strategic vision. She thought the ailerons were ¡®cute little wings.''¡± ¡°And will we see it in action at the Summit?¡± the reporter asked. ¡°Absolutely,¡± Belle beamed. ¡°It¡¯s going to revolutionize the skies.¡± Isolde turned off the TV. The screen went ck. ¡°She has no idea,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°She has no idea that without the titanium ribbing I designed, that airframe will shear apart at Mach 1.2.¡± ¡°Are you going to tell them?¡± Harper asked. Isolde looked at the Anna Smith badge. She clipped it to herpel. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m going to let physics tell them.¡± Across town, in the penthouse, Grayson was watching the same interview. He frowned at the screen. ¡°Strategic vision?¡± he muttered to the empty room. . . . Chapter 170 Chapter 170: He knew Belle hadn¡¯t designed a thing. He knew he had stolen it from Isolde¡¯s server. He remembered her warning about the ¡°flying oven¡± ¡ª and the way she had looked at the contract, signing away her seat with that cold, terrifying smile. A knot of unease tightened in his stomach. Isolde wasn¡¯t the type to give up. If she had surrendered the seat, it was because she had found a better ce to stand. But where? The Javits Center was a hive of activity. Streams of sunlight poured through the ss ceiling, illuminating billions of dors¡¯ worth of aerospace technology on disy. Isolde entered through the loading dock. She was wearing a ck turtleneck and ck cks, her cast hidden beneath a loose ck cardigan. The ¡°Anna Smith¡± badge hung around her neck. She looked like a stagehand. Invisible. She made her way to the Orbital Systems booth in Zone C. It was modestpared to the sprawling pces of Boeing and Lockheed, but it was sleek and professional. ¡°Anna,¡± And greeted her with a subtle nod, looking sharp in a charcoal suit. He didn¡¯t hug her ¡ª he knew about the arm ¡ª but he squeezed her good shoulder. ¡°Ready to stand in the shadows?¡± ¡°I prefer the shadows,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Better view.¡± ???????? ????a?? ??????s ??§Ö???? ??? ??a??????????????.??o?? She didn¡¯t linger at the booth. A maic pull drew her toward the center of the hall. Zone A. The SkyLine Technologies exhibit. It was massive. A rotating tform at the center held a full-scale prototype of the Phoenix-X7 ¡ª sleek, predatory, painted a matte midnight blue. Crowds were gathering. Cameras were shing. And there they were. Grayson and Belle. They looked like royalty. Grayson in a tuxedo, Belle in a shimmering gold gown that hugged every curve. She was holding court,ughing, resting her hand on the wing of the jet as though it belonged to her. ¡°It¡¯s magnificent,¡± a reporter gushed. ¡°Ms. Escobar, tell us about the wing design.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Belle said, waving a hand airily. ¡°We wanted something sweeping. Like a bird of prey. It¡¯s all about the aesthetic of speed.¡± Isolde stood at the back of the crowd. A twitch moved through her eye. The aesthetic of speed. It was about drag coefficients and lift-to-weight ratios. Grayson spotted her. His eyes widened. He hadn¡¯t expected to see her here ¡ª dressed like this, looking like a ghost at his victory party. He excused himself and walked over, Belle trailing behind him like a golden shadow, the crowd parting for them both. ¡°Isolde?¡± Belle gasped, her voice dripping with mock concern. ¡°What are you doing here? I thought you weren¡¯ting.¡± ¡°I have a badge,¡± Isolde said, tapping the stic. Daron McKnight appeared at Grayson¡¯s nk,ughing. ¡°Avionics Technician? What, are you here to fix the coffee machine, Isolde?¡± A ripple ofughter moved through the sycophants surrounding them. ¡°Careful, sister,¡± Belle said, stepping closer to the jet. ¡°Don¡¯t stand too close. The radar-absorbent coating is very sensitive. You might scratch it with that cast.¡± Isolde looked at the jet. She looked at the wing Belle was leaning on. . . . Chapter 171 Chapter 171: ¡°That¡¯s not radar-absorbent coating,¡± she said, her voice clear and carrying over the crowd. ¡°That¡¯s standard polyurethane paint. Real RAM coating is matte gray and toxic to the touch.¡± Belle pulled her hand back as if burned. ¡°What? No, it¡¯s ¡ª¡± ¡°And,¡± Isolde continued, stepping forward, ¡°the angle of the vertical stabilizers is wrong.¡± The crowd went quiet. ¡°Excuse me?¡± Grayson said, frowning. ¡°The design called for a 32-degree cant,¡± Isolde said. ¡°This prototype is set at 28 degrees. You probably adjusted it to fit the shipping container.¡± ¡°So what?¡± Daron scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s four degrees.¡± ¡°At supersonic speeds,¡± Isolde said, locking eyes with Grayson, ¡°a four-degree variance in the stabilizers creates a yaw instability that will rip the tail off the fusge. If this thing flies, the pilot dies.¡± Silence. Absolute, heavy silence. ¡°She¡¯s crazy,¡± Belleughed nervously. ¡°She¡¯s just jealous. Security?¡± ??????????????? ??id??§Ö?? ??????? o?? g??????????§Ö????.?????? ¡°She is correct.¡± The voice was gravelly and authoritative. It came from behind Isolde. The crowd turned. An older man with wild white hair and a tweed jacket stood there, leaning on a cane and studying the jet with critical eyes. Professor Eldridge Nelson. The godfather of modern aeronautics. ¡°I reviewed the original schematics for this project years ago,¡± Nelson said, limping forward. ¡°The cant on those stabilizers is visibly incorrect. A fatal w for high-speed flight.¡± He turned his gaze to Isolde ¡ª taking in the ck clothes, the broken arm, the anonymous badge. His eyes twinkled with pride and recognition. ¡°You always did have an eye calibrated to a fraction of an inch, Sophia,¡± Nelson said, his voice carrying across the hall. ¡°Perhaps you should exin to these people why fundamental engineering matters rather more than ¡®the aesthetic of speed.''¡± Isolde smiled. It was the first genuine smile she had worn in weeks. ¡°I¡¯m just a consultant,¡± she said. Grayson looked from Nelson to Isolde. He saw the respect in the old man¡¯s eyes. He saw the technical precision in Isolde¡¯s stance. And he finally understood. She hadn¡¯t surrendered her seat. She had simply chosen a different weapon. For the first time, a true and deep shiver of fear moved through him. He wasn¡¯t looking at his defeated ex-wife. He was looking at the Valkyrie. And she had just drawn first blood. The buzz in the lounge area of the Javits Center was a physical weight pressing against Isolde¡¯s eardrums. She stood by the small table where she had just dismantled SkyLine¡¯s credibility, her fingers trembling slightly as she gathered the rolled-up schematics. It wasn¡¯t fear. It was the adrenaline crash ¡ª the aftermath ofbat. ¡°You think you¡¯re clever, don¡¯t you?¡± Daron McKnight blocked her path. His face was flushed, a vein throbbing in his temple. He looked like a man whose nine-figuremission had just been vaporized by a woman in a technician¡¯s uniform. ¡°So, ¡®Sophia¡¯ is back,¡± Daron hissed, leaning in close. ¡°Big deal. You think pulling one fast trick on Sterling is going to save you? That was my contract, Isolde. My team¡¯s future. You think Grayson will let you get away with this public humiliation?¡± . . . Chapter 172 Chapter 172: Isolde didn¡¯t flinch. She finished capping her pen, the click sounding like a gunshot in the small space between them, and looked up, her eyes cold and clear. ¡°Technology evolves, Daron,¡± she said, her voice steady. ¡°But thews of physics tend to stay the same. Gravity doesn¡¯t care about your marketing budget. And drag coefficients don¡¯t care about your ego.¡± Daron opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. He looked at her ¡ª really looked at her ¡ª and for the first time didn¡¯t see the woman he had mocked at the g. He saw a wall he couldn¡¯t climb. He scoffed, a sound of pure frustration, and stormed off toward the bar. Isolde let out a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d been holding. She turned, scanning the room. Across the lounge, Belle was reapplying her lipstick in apact mirror. The shade was aggressive ¡ª a bright crimson meant to signal power. She snapped thepact shut, smoothed her gold dress, and surveyed the room like a predator spotting prey. Her target was Professor Eldridge Nelson. ??§àw????§à???? §â?????? ??r??§Ö §à?? ????????o??????s.??§àm The old man sat in a leather armchair, reviewing a stack of data sheets, a ss of water untouched beside him. He was the gatekeeper of the Summit. His approval was the gold standard. Isolde watched from the shadows as Belle approached him, hips swaying, that practiced, perfect smile fixed in ce. ¡°Professor Nelson,¡± Belle purred, extending a hand. ¡°It¡¯s such an honor. I¡¯m Belle Escobar, the Chief Designer for InnoTech ¡ª and the vision behind the Phoenix project.¡± Nelson didn¡¯t look up. He flipped a page, his brow furrowed. ¡°Escobar. The firm that was gged for giarism on the guidance systems five years ago?¡± Belle¡¯s smile froze. It didn¡¯t drop, but the corners twitched. A few people nearby chuckled into their drinks. ¡°That was a corporate misunderstanding,¡± Belle said, her voice tightening. She lowered her hand. ¡°I actually wanted to pick your brain about theputational fluid dynamics of the supercritical airfoil. We¡¯re encountering some interesting boundaryyer separation data at high angles of attack.¡± Nelson finally looked up. He pushed his sses down his nose and peered at her over the rims, his gaze withering. ¡°Pick my brain?¡± he repeated. ¡°Young woman, even if you¡¯ve memorized a page from a textbook, I doubt we speak the samenguage. I don¡¯t discuss fluid dynamics with people who think ¡®drag¡¯ is just a term for a bad day.¡± Belle¡¯s face drained of color as though he had pped her. She took a step back, her mouth opening and closing. Grayson stood near a pir, watching. He frowned, his hand half-raised as if to intervene ¡ª but he stayed put. He saw the humiliation. He saw the crowd¡¯s amusement. And he didn¡¯t move to save her. Isolde felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Administrator Sterling¡¯s personal secretary ¡ª a sharp-looking woman with a tablet. . . . Chapter 173 Chapter 173: ¡°Ms. Smith,¡± the woman said in a neutral tone, then leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. ¡°The Administrator has arranged a live system stress test for tomorrow. 2:00 PM. Professor Nelson will be proctoring. He asked me to ensure you were avable.¡± A pause. ¡°Ms. Carson.¡± Isolde¡¯s stomach tightened. A live test. No room for error. ¡°I¡¯ll be ready.¡± ¡°Good.¡± The secretary nodded and slipped away. Isolde felt a gaze burning into the side of her face. She turned. Grayson was staring at her, his expression a chaotic mixture of anger, confusion, and something that looked disturbingly like admiration. ?e?? ????e?????? §ã????????e???? ???? g???????????????.§ã§à?? She ignored him. She adjusted her sling ¡ª her right arm still heavy in the cast ¡ª and walked toward the elevators. She needed air. She needed to get away from the toxicity of the Lancasters. She pressed the button. The doors slid open. She stepped in and pressed the button for the lobby. Just as the doors were sliding shut, a hand thrust between them. The safety sensor triggered and the doors bounced back open. Grayson stepped inside. The space instantly shrank. He filled the elevator with his presence, sandalwood and stress radiating from him. He stabbed the Close button. ¡°When did you meet Sterling?¡± he demanded. No hello. No pleasantries. Isolde watched the floor numbers climb. ¡°Around the time you were busy helping Belle pick out swimwear for your ¡®business trip¡¯ to the Maldives.¡± Grayson flinched. ¡°Stop deflecting. You yed me. You let me think you were out of the game.¡± ¡°I never said I was out,¡± Isolde said, turning to face him. ¡°I said I gave up the seat. I didn¡¯t give up the sky.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky,¡± Grayson snapped, his voice echoing in the metal box. ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s test ¡ª if you embarrass the Lancaster name, if you make SkyLine look ipetent ¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have to make SkyLine look ipetent, Grayson,¡± she cut him off, her voice low and lethal. ¡°You did that the moment you put a thief in charge of design.¡± The elevator dinged. The doors opened. ¡°Worry about your investment,¡± Isolde said, stepping out. ¡°Because by tomorrow afternoon, the only thingunching will be yourwsuits.¡± The morning sun filtered through the ss ceiling of the Javits Center, casting long, sharp shadows across the breakfast mixer. The air smelled of roasted coffee and fresh pastries ¡ª a deceptivefort before the day¡¯s war began. Isolde stood near a high-top table, nursing a cup of ck coffee in her left hand ¡ª her good hand. Her right arm, encased in heavy ster, was tucked against her chest in a ck sling. She was mentally running through the simtion parameters for the afternoon¡¯s test: wind shear variables, hydraulictency, the patch code Effie had helped her spot. ¡°Excuse me,ing through.¡± The voice was familiar. Too familiar. Isolde looked up. Grayson was cutting through the crowd, his hand firmly at the small of Belle¡¯s back, guiding her toward the VIP section where Sterling¡¯s secretary was checking names. He was clearly calling in favors, angling for a face-to-face. Belle looked radiant in a cream-colored dress, but her eyes were darting around nervously. Theynded on Isolde standing near the walkway. A flicker of malice crossed Belle¡¯s face ¡ª quick, sharp, and deliberate. . . . Chapter 174 Chapter 174: As they passed, Belle stumbled. It was theatrical: a sudden lurch to the side, aimed directly at Isolde. Isolde saw the moveing a split second before it happened. She instinctively tried to pivot away, a fighter¡¯s reflex. But the dead weight of the cast threw off her bnce, slowing her just enough for Belle to close the distance. ¡°Oh!¡± Belle cried out. Unable to fully evade, Isolde felt Belle¡¯s shoulder m into her. The coffee cup in her left hand jerked. Dark, scalding liquid sshed out, coating the back of her hand and wrist. ¡°Ah!¡± Isolde gasped, the pain instantaneous and searing. The skin turned an angry red within seconds. She dropped the cup, the rest of the liquid sttering across the floor. Belle copsed onto the carpet with a wail. ¡°My ankle! Oh god, my ankle!¡± Grayson spun around. He didn¡¯t even nce at Isolde. He dropped to his knees beside Belle, his face twisted in concern. ¡°Belle? Are you okay?¡± He hovered over her, hands fluttering uselessly. ¡°She pushed me,¡± Belle sobbed, pointing a manicured finger at Isolde. ¡°I tripped, and she shoved me down! Gray, it hurts!¡± Isolde stood there clutching her scalded hand against her chest, breathing in short, sharp gasps. The pain was blinding. Her only functional hand was on fire. Grayson looked up at her, his eyes cold and using. ¡°Are you insane? What is wrong with you?¡± J§à???? ????§à??????????? ???? ??????? ???? ?????????????????.??om ¡°Are you blind?¡± Isolde gritted out, tears of pain pricking her eyes. She held up her red, blistering hand. ¡°She threw herself at me. I¡¯m the one who¡¯s burned.¡± Grayson nced at her hand for a fraction of a second, then dismissed it. ¡°You spilled your own coffee because you were clumsy. Look what you did to her.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t touch her,¡± Isolde said, her voice shaking. ¡°Just apologize,¡± Grayson snapped, pulling Belle to her feet. Belle leaned heavily against him, burying her face in his shoulder ¡ª though her eyes were dry. ¡°Apologize, Isolde. Now.¡± People were staring. Whispers rippled through the crowd. Sterling¡¯s secretary watched from the VIP rope, her expression unreadable. Isolde looked at the man she had once vowed to cherish. He was holding the woman who had destroyed their family and demanding an apology from the victim. ¡°Apologize?¡± Isoldeughed ¡ª a broken, hollow sound. ¡°In your dreams, Grayson.¡± She turned on her heel and marched toward the restrooms, head held high, though her vision was blurring from the pain. ¡°Isolde!¡± Grayson shouted after her. ¡°Walk away! That¡¯s all you know how to do!¡± She didn¡¯t stop. She pushed through the heavy door of thedies¡¯ room and went straight to the sink, thrusting her hand under the cold tap. The relief was minimal. The skin was already blistering. ¡°Isolde?¡± And¡¯s voice came from the doorway. He had followed her to the entrance and pushed inside, ignoring the startled look of a woman applying mascara. ¡°Let me see,¡± he said, reaching for her hand. Isolde pulled it from the water. It was angry, swollen, and raw. . . . Chapter 175 Chapter 175: ¡°Damn it,¡± And hissed. ¡°That¡¯s a second-degree burn. On your good hand.¡± ¡°She did it on purpose,¡± Isolde whispered, pressing her forehead against the mirror. ¡°She knows I need this hand for the test. My right arm is useless.¡± And reached into his pocket and produced a small foil packet. ¡°Silvadene cream. From the first aid kit in my briefcase. Medical grade ¡ª not some useless painkiller for a headache.¡± He gently applied the gel. Isolde hissed through her teeth. ¡°Can you do this?¡± And asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror. ¡°The test requires manual override input. Precision typing. With a cast on one arm and a burn on the other¡­¡± Isolde looked at her reflection. She looked pale, tired, and battered. But the fire in her eyes hadn¡¯t gone out. If anything, it was burning hotter. ¡°Wrap it,¡± she said. ¡°Tight.¡± ¡°Isolde¡­¡± ¡°Wrap it, And. Even if my hand falls off, I am not letting that fraud win.¡± The prep room was quiet, save for the hum of the server racks. Isolde sat on a metal stool, using her teeth to tighten the bandage around her left hand. The pain was a constant, throbbing bass line in her head. Every time she flexed her fingers, the skin felt as though it were tearing. Her dexterity waspromised ¡ª down by at least thirty percent. ???????????i???? ??????r?????? ???? g????n??????????.?????? Sterling¡¯s secretary poked her head in. ¡°Ms. Carson? Five minutes. Do you need a moment? Or a postponement?¡± She had seen the incident at breakfast. She knew. Isolde shook her head. ¡°No. We start on time.¡± She stood up and smoothed her ck technician¡¯s shirt. She checked her phone. A text from And: Grayson is in the front row. VIP. Belle is next to him. She has her foot propped up on a chair with an ice pack. Putting on a show. Isolde let out a dark chuckle. Of course she was. She walked out into the main hall. The lights were dimmed, focused on the massive screen and the control console set up on the stage. As she climbed the steps, a hush fell over the room. Grayson watched her. His eyes went immediately to the white bandage on her left hand, stark against her ck clothes. He frowned, a flicker of unease twisting in his gut. He remembered the steam rising from the coffee, the angry red mark blooming on her skin before she had even dropped the cup. An ufortable seed of doubt took root in his chest. Belle leaned over to him. ¡°What happened to her hand?¡± ¡°You tell me,¡± Grayson murmured, not taking his eyes off Isolde. Belle scoffed, adjusting her ice pack. ¡°Who knows? She probably wrapped it for sympathy. You know how she loves to y the victim.¡± Grayson looked back at Isolde. The doubt remained, small and irritating. ¡°Wee,¡± Nelson¡¯s voice boomed over the speakers. ¡°The test is simple ¡ª a real-time simtion of the Phoenix navigation protocol in a Category 5 storm. Tolerance for error is 0.01%.¡± . . . Chapter 176 Chapter 176: Isolde sat at the console. The chair was ufortable. She positioned her cast-heavy right arm on the desk, using the fingers that protruded to hover over the enter key. Her left hand ¡ª the burned one ¡ª hovered over themand cluster. ¡°Begin.¡± The screen exploded into data. Red lines, wind vectors, altitude warnings. Isolde¡¯s left hand trembled over the keyboard. Every intended keystroke sent a jolt of agony up her wrist. She gritted her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead. She couldn¡¯t type. She couldn¡¯t execute theplexmands fast enough. ¡°Look,¡± Belle whispered loudly. ¡°Her hand is shaking. She¡¯s choking.¡± Grayson watched the tremor in Isolde¡¯s left hand. It wasn¡¯t fear. It was a spasm of pure pain. The image of the scalding coffee shed in his mind again. The simtion ramped up. A sudden wind shear struck the virtual jet. rms red. TURBULENCE DETECTED. STABILIZER FAILURE IMMINENT. This was the kill zone. This was where Belle¡¯s design would fail. Isolde needed to input aplex correction algorithm. Fast. Her left hand seized. The pain was blinding. She gasped, her vision graying out for a moment. She couldn¡¯t do it. Not like this. ??????§Ö????? ????????????? ??n ????????o??els.c???? The altitude meter dropped. The crowd gasped. ¡°She¡¯s losing it,¡± Daron muttered gleefully. Isolde closed her eyes for a microsecond. She took a breath and activated the microphone headset. ¡°Effie,¡± she whispered, her voice a low, steadymand. ¡°Listen to the storm. Tell me the sequence.¡± In a quiet room backstage, Effie sat with a headset on, her eyes closed. She didn¡¯t see the code. She heard it. ¡°It¡¯s scratching, Mommy. A high C and then a G-sharp. The numbers are¡­ 7-3-2-8.¡± ¡°Voicemand override: activate,¡± Isolde spoke clearly into the mic. ¡°Execute macro ¡®Sophia¡¯s Gambit.¡¯ Input sequence: seven, three, two, eight, point one, five.¡± A synthetic voice echoed through the hall. ¡°COMMAND ACCEPTED.¡± The virtual jet shuddered ¡ª then leveled out. The red lines turned green. The trajectory smoothed. ERROR: 0.00%. SYSTEM STATUS: PERFECT. The hall held its breath for a single heartbeat, and then it erupted. Apuse thundered against the walls. Nelson rose from his seat and pped slowly, a wide grin spreading across his face. Isolde slumped back in her chair, cradling her left hand against her chest. It was throbbing so hard she felt sick. But the screen behind her was a wall of green. Grayson stared at it. Then he looked at Isolde ¡ª pale, sweating, clearly in excruciating pain. And she had just performed a miracle. He looked at Belle. She was pouting, checking her phone. ¡°She pushed me,¡± Belle had said. Grayson looked back at Isolde¡¯s burned and bandaged hand. For the first time, the lie tasted like ash in his mouth. Isolde stood up. She didn¡¯t smile. She turned to the audience, her gaze sweeping across the front row until it found Grayson. Her look wasn¡¯t triumphant. It was disgusted ¡ª the look of someone who had scraped something unpleasant off the bottom of her shoe. The apuse was still washing over the stage as Nelson limped toward Isolde. He took her right shoulder gently, careful to avoid the cast. . . . Chapter 177 Chapter 177: ¡°That,¡± he said, his voice low and full of reverence now that they were off-mic, ¡°was the most elegant piece of flying I have seen in a decade. Wee home, Sophia.¡± Isolde managed a weak smile. ¡°Thank you, Professor.¡± She stepped down from the stage. The crowd parted for her ¡ª respect, fear, and awe moving through the room like a wave. Grayson was walking toward her. He looked shaken, his mouth opening as if to speak ¡ª perhaps to congratte her, perhaps to ask about her hand. But Belle was right there, clinging to his arm and limping dramatically on her conveniently ¡°injured¡± ankle. Suddenly, a blur of motion shot out from the side aisle. ¡°Daddy!¡± It was Kaiden. He had escaped his nanny¡¯s grip and came barreling toward them ¡ª a chaotic ball of energy. But he didn¡¯t run to Grayson. He ran straight at Isolde. U??d§Ñ????? ????????§å w??§Ök §à?? ?????????v§Ö??s.?????? ¡°You bad woman!¡± Kaiden shrieked. He lowered his head and rammed into her legs. ¡°Ah!¡± Isolde stumbled back, grabbing the edge of a disy table to keep from falling. The impact jarred her broken arm and her burned hand simultaneously. ¡°Kaiden!¡± Grayson shouted, but he didn¡¯t move fast enough. Effie, who had been waiting with Ellyn by the side of the room, saw her mother stumble. She dropped her coloring book and ran. ¡°Stop it!¡± Effie yelled, shoving Kaiden away from Isolde. ¡°Don¡¯t hurt my Mommy!¡± Kaiden, surprised by the resistance, shoved Effie back hard. Effie tripped over her own feet and hit the convention center floor. Her knee struck the concrete with a sickening thud. ¡°Ow!¡± Effie cried out, clutching her leg. Isolde ignored her own pain and dropped to her knees beside her daughter. ¡°Effie! Baby, let me see.¡± Grayson finally reached them ¡ª but he didn¡¯t check on Effie. He scooped up Kaiden, who immediately began to fake-cry. ¡°She pushed me, Daddy!¡± Kaiden wailed, burying his face in Grayson¡¯s neck. ¡°Effie pushed me!¡± ¡°Shh, it¡¯s okay, buddy,¡± Grayson cooed, rubbing Kaiden¡¯s back. ¡°Daddy¡¯s here. You¡¯re okay.¡± He looked down at Isolde, who was carefully examining Effie¡¯s knee. ¡°Control your daughter, Isolde. She¡¯s getting aggressive.¡± Isolde looked up, incredulous. ¡°He tackled me. He pushed her.¡± ¡°He¡¯s five,¡± Grayson said dismissively. ¡°Effie should know better.¡± Ellyn rushed over, breathless. She had seen Isolde¡¯s triumph on the screens and sensed an opening. She ignored Effie¡¯s tears entirely. ¡°Grayson!¡± Ellyn said, clutching her purse. ¡°Did you see the test? Isolde was magnificent. About that investment for Carson Dynamics ¡ª¡± Grayson turned to her with barely concealed disdain. ¡°Not now, Ellyn. Can¡¯t you see we¡¯re dealing with a situation?¡± He turned to Belle. ¡°Are you okay to walk? We should go celebrate. Get away from this¡­ drama.¡± Belle smirked at Isolde. ¡°Yes, Gray. Let¡¯s go to that Michelin ce you promised. I¡¯m starving.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Grayson said. He adjusted Kaiden in his arms, took Belle¡¯s hand, and walked away. He didn¡¯t look back at his daughter, sitting on the floor with a bleeding knee. He didn¡¯t look back at his ex-wife, who had just revolutionized his industry. He walked away with his lie. . . . Chapter 178 Chapter 178: Nelson watched them go, his face grim. ¡°That man,¡± he muttered to And, who had just arrived with a first aid kit, ¡°is trading a diamond for a handful of gravel.¡± ¡°He¡¯s blind,¡± And said, kneeling beside Isolde. ¡°Isolde, we need to clean that knee. And your hand needs fresh dressing.¡± Isolde stared at Grayson¡¯s retreating back. ¡°I¡¯m not going to the g dinner tonight.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to,¡± And said. ¡°Go home. Rest. But you know he¡¯s going to spin this. The annualpany retreat is tomorrow at the estate ¡ª he¡¯ll use it as a victoryp, with Belle on his arm. It¡¯s a PR move to save face.¡± Isolde looked at Effie, who was wiping her eyes, trying to be brave. ¡°We¡¯ll be there,¡± Isolde said, her voice hard. ¡°Effie wants to see the horses. And I have unfinished business.¡± Most read this week on He stepped back half a step, a sharp grunt of pain escaping his lips, but he quickly straightened, letting the blood drip. His eyes never left his grandmother¡¯s face. A thin line of bright red had welled up instantly, running down his cheek. He did not wipe it away. ¡°You surrendered our core AI asset for a whore!¡± Beatrice screamed, her cane mming into the floor. ¡°You have betrayed the blood of this family!¡± Grayson stared at his grandmother. His eyes werepletely dead. ¡°It was my personal asset,¡± Grayson replied, his voice a hollow rasp. ¡°I did what I had to do to protect this family from the alternative.¡± Beatrice rose to her feet, her frail body shaking with rage. Grayson¡¯s lips curled into a dark, twisted smile. Neutralize her. Recover the assets. The bridge was not merely burned ¡ª it had been vaporized, and Isolde held all the ashes. He turned and walked out of the study without another word. He went to his private bedroom and locked the door. In the bathroom, he stood before the mirror, studying his reflection. The blood was drying on his cheek. He looked like a ghost. His phone buzzed on the marble counter. It was an email from his secretary ¡ª the final confirmation itinerary for Kaiden¡¯s admission dinner at the elite Ivy League prep school next week. ording to the strict social conventions of the Upper East Side, Isolde was legally required to attend as his wife to maintain the family¡¯s facade. Grayson gripped the edge of the marble sink. His knuckles turned white. Everyone wanted a facade. Everyone wanted to pretend the Lancaster empire was still wless. A dark, unhinged light red in Grayson¡¯s eyes. He was going to walk into that dinner and detonate the final bomb ¡ª taking everyone down with him. The shift from the sterile, high-stakes environment of the Javits Center to the sprawling green ostentation of the Lancaster Estate in the Hamptons was jarring. Grayson had framed the annual SkyLine retreat as a mandatory celebration of their ¡°sess¡± ¡ª a desperate attempt to control the narrative after Isolde¡¯s public triumph. For Isolde, it wasn¡¯t a party. It was the final stage of a war, and she was here to see it through. . . . Chapter 179 Chapter 179: Thewn was dotted with pic nkets and gourmet food stations. Employees mingled, sipping champagne, doing their best to rx while their boss quietly judged them. Isolde sat on a nket near the edge of the woods, well away from the main tent. Effie sat beside her, a bandage on her knee, holding a frisbee and gazing wistfully at the other children ying across thewn. ¡°Go y, sweetie,¡± Isolde said, wincing as she awkwardly patted Effie¡¯s hair with her stiff, bandaged left hand. Even that small contact sent a fresh jolt of fire up her wrist. ¡°Just be careful.¡± ¡°Will Daddy y with me?¡± Effie asked, her voice small. Isolde¡¯s heart broke. ¡°Maybe. You can ask him.¡± Ellyn was perched on a folding chair nearby, nervously checking her phone. ¡°Isolde, you really should talk to him. The ounts are still frozen. Payroll is due on Monday.¡± ?????????se ?o??§Öl?? ??r??????????te?? o?? ???????§àv§Öl?.?????? ¡°Here,¡± Isolde said, pulling a slip of paper from her pocket with her good hand. ¡°This is his personalwyer¡¯s number. Call him. Don¡¯t beg Grayson.¡± ¡°How did you get this?¡± Ellyn asked, eyes widening. ¡°I have resources,¡± Isolde said simply. A ripple moved through the crowd. Heads turned. Grayson had arrived. He was walking across thewn nked by Belle and Kaiden, all three of them wearing matching outfits ¡ª navy blue polo shirts and khaki shorts and skirts. They looked like a catalogue spread for the perfect American family. It was nauseating. Belle waved at the employees as though she were the Queen of Ennd, having apparently abandoned the limp she¡¯d performed so dramatically the day before. Effie stood up. She clutched her frisbee. ¡°Daddy!¡± She ran toward him, her little legs pumping hard. Grayson was in the middle of peeling a grape for Belle. He heard Effie¡¯s voice and looked up. For a brief moment, his face softened. He took a step toward her. ¡°Daddy, look!¡± Effie held up the frisbee. ¡°Can we y?¡± Grayson opened his mouth to answer. ¡°Daddy!¡± Kaiden shrieked, yanking hard on Grayson¡¯s shorts. ¡°I want to ride the pony! Now! You promised!¡± Grayson looked down. ¡°Kaiden, just a second ¡ª¡± ¡°Now!¡± Kaiden screamed, his face going red. ¡°Ride a horse! Ride a horse!¡± Grayson sighed, the path of least resistance winning out as it always did. He scooped Kaiden up. ¡°Okay, okay. Let¡¯s go find the ponies.¡± He turned his back on Effie. Effie stood there, the frisbee sinking slowly to her side. She looked as though she had been pped. Isolde began to rise, fury climbing her throat. Effie turned around, tears flooding her eyes, and started running back toward Isolde ¡ª blinded by rejection, not watching where she was going. She didn¡¯t see Belle standing there, sipping a mimosa. Effie bumped into Belle¡¯s leg. It was barely a tap. Belle¡¯s drink didn¡¯t even spill. ¡°Ah!¡± Belle yelped, leaping back as though she¡¯d been struck by lightning. Effie, startled by the shriek, recoiled. Her foot caught on an exposed tree root. She went down hard. Her other knee ¡ª the good one ¡ª mmed onto a jaggedndscaping rock. . . . Chapter 180 Chapter 180: Skin tore. Blood welled up instantly, bright red against her white socks. Effie screamed. It wasn¡¯t a cry for attention. It was the raw, unguarded cry of genuine pain. Grayson, no more than ten feet away with Kaiden in his arms, turned around. He saw Belle brushing invisible dust from her skirt, her expression one of mild irritation. He saw Effie face-down in the grass. He didn¡¯t move. The sound of Effie¡¯s scream cut through the polite chatter of the pic like a siren. Isolde didn¡¯t think. She didn¡¯t feel the pain in her burned hand or her broken arm. She was moving before the sound had even finished echoing across thewn. She reached Effie and scooped her up with her good arm, cradling her against her chest. The blood was flowing freely, soaking into Isolde¡¯s ck shirt. ¡°Mommy, it hurts!¡± Effie sobbed, her face buried in Isolde¡¯s neck. Grayson finally walked over, Kaiden still on his hip. He looked annoyed rather than concerned. ???? ????r?? of ????r §ã???????????????? §à?? g??????§à????????.??§à?? ¡°What is all the noise?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s just a scrape, Effie. Stop crying.¡± ¡°She¡¯s so clumsy,¡± Belle sniffed, checking her own shins. ¡°She nearly knocked me over. And this is silk.¡± Isolde looked up. Her eyes were voids. ¡°She is bleeding, Grayson. Look at her.¡± Grayson nced at the blood and frowned. ¡°It¡¯s ¡ª okay, it¡¯s a cut. I¡¯ll call the medic.¡± He reached out a tentative hand toward Effie¡¯s head. ¡°Crybaby! Crybaby!¡± Kaiden pointed at Effie andughed, a cruel, mocking sound. ¡°Effie is a baby!¡± Effie wailed louder, shrinking away from Grayson¡¯s outstretched hand. Isolde pped it aside. ¡°Don¡¯t touch her.¡± ¡°Kaiden, stop it,¡± Grayson said weakly. Then he turned on Isolde. ¡°Don¡¯t hit me. And don¡¯t make a scene. You¡¯re embarrassing the family.¡± ¡°The family?¡± Isolde stood, holding Effie tight against her. ¡°You don¡¯t have a family, Grayson. You have a PR stunt.¡± She turned to Kaiden. ¡°And you ¡ª shut your mouth.¡± Kaiden¡¯s eyes went wide. He wasn¡¯t used to being spoken to that way. He burst into tears ¡ª loud, demanding, performative tears. ¡°Daddy! The bad woman yelled at me!¡± Grayson immediately pulled Kaiden closer. ¡°It¡¯s okay, son. She¡¯s just¡­ upset.¡± He red at Isolde. ¡°Go fix her up. And keep her away from the main tent.¡± Isolde stared at him. The man who had once held her hand during the ultrasound. The man who had promised to protect them. ¡°You are sick,¡± she whispered. She turned and walked toward the estate¡¯s guest house, where And had prepared a private area. And met her halfway across thewn and took Effie gently from her arms. ¡°I¡¯ve got her. The medic is inside.¡± They moved into the cool, quiet room. The medic cleaned Effie¡¯s knee ¡ª it needed a butterfly stitch. When it was done, Effie sniffled and looked up at Isolde. ¡°Mommy?¡± ¡°Yes, baby?¡± ¡°Does Daddy hate me?¡± The room went silent. And looked away, his jaw tight. . . . Chapter 181 Chapter 181: Isolde brushed the hair out of Effie¡¯s eyes. ¡°No, sweetie. Daddy doesn¡¯t hate you. Daddy is broken. His brain is sick. He can¡¯t see things clearly.¡± ¡°Like when theputer has a bug?¡± Effie asked. ¡°Exactly like that,¡± Isolde said softly. ¡°A very bad bug.¡± She stood and moved to the window. Outside, she could see Graysonughing at something Belle said, feeding Kaiden a strawberry as though the afternoon had been entirely unremarkable. ¡°And,¡± Isolde said, her voice stripped of all emotion. ¡°The DNA test. For Kaiden.¡± ??????????w ??s §à? ????????????e???.??om ¡°The allergy records were enough to file the motion, but Grayson¡¯swyers are calling it circumstantial,¡± And said. ¡°We need something irrefutable for the custody hearing. A direct sample.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Tonight.¡± ¡°And Isolde?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Call Arthur Stone. Tell him to execute. No more negotiation. Full custody, asset seizure for fraud.¡± She paused, her gaze fixed on the manughing outside the window. ¡°We burn it all down.¡± The sun began to set, casting long orange shadows across the estate. The smell of charcoal and grilled meat drifted through the air. The barbecue was in full swing. Isolde sat at a pic table on the periphery, Effie beside her eating an ear of corn. Effie¡¯s knee was bandaged, and she was quiet, watching her father from a distance. Grayson was manning the grill. He had rolled up his sleeves, looking every bit the rugged provider. He flipped a burger with a flourish, then ted it and walked toward the main table. He didn¡¯t bring it to Effie. He didn¡¯t bring it to Ellyn. He handed it to Belle. Belle took a bite, then tore off a piece and fed it to Kaiden. ¡°Yummy!¡± Kaiden shouted. ¡°Daddy makes the best burgers!¡± Grayson ruffled Kaiden¡¯s hair. ¡°d you like it, buddy.¡± Isolde watched. Her engineer¡¯s mind processed the details quietly, methodically. Grayson hatedtro ¡ª imed it tasted like soap. Kaiden had thrown a fitst week because there was green stuff in his salsa. Grayson was allergic to peanuts, mildly but enough that he avoided them without exception. Belle had made a considerable scene earlier ensuring the satay sauce was kept well away from the rest of the food. Isolde narrowed her eyes. Harper Vance slid onto the bench beside her. ¡°God, looking at them makes me want to vomit.¡± ¡°Harper,¡± Isolde murmured. ¡°Look at Kaiden. Look at his profile.¡± Harper squinted across thewn. ¡°The little monster? What about him?¡± ¡°His jawline. And the way his ears sit ¡ª the way they fold slightly at the top.¡± Harper looked. Then she looked at Grayson. Her eyes went wide. ¡°Holy ¡ª Isolde. That¡¯s a copy-paste.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Isolde whispered. Just then, Kaiden came running over to their table. He spotted the sausage on Effie¡¯s te and reached for it with greasy fingers. ¡°I want that.¡± Effie pulled her te back. ¡°No. Go get your own.¡± Kaiden scowled. He raised his hand and pped Effie¡¯s arm. ¡°Hey!¡± Harper caught Kaiden¡¯s wrist. ¡°You little brat. Where are your manners?¡± Kaiden screamed. ¡°Belle Mommy! Help! She¡¯s hurting me!¡± Belle Mommy. Not Auntie Belle. Not Ms. Belle. . . . Chapter 182 Chapter 182: Belle came running over, her heels sinking into the grass. ¡°Let go of my son!¡± Isolde stepped in front of her. ¡°Teach your son not to hit people, and perhaps people won¡¯t need to restrain him.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a child!¡± Belle shrieked. Grayson appeared, wiping his hands on a dish towel. ¡°What is going on now?¡± Kaiden wrenched free and ran to Belle, burying his face in her skirt. ¡°Mommy, I want to go home. I hate them!¡± Grayson looked at Kaiden clinging to Belle. He didn¡¯t correct him. He didn¡¯t say, She¡¯s not Mommy. Instead, a particr look settled over his face ¡ª soft, protective, possessive. It was the look of a man watching his wife and child. The cold, hard certainty that had been forming in Isolde¡¯s gut solidifiedpletely. She had known the truth for weeks and had wielded it as a weapon. But seeing itid bare here, on thewn of what had once been her home, was something different entirely. This was no longer a secret affair. It was a public deration of a parallel family ¡ª one that had been running alongside hers for five years. ?????? ???????? ?????????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? ¡°You¡¯re not even hiding it anymore,¡± she whispered ¡ª not in discovery, but in bitter confirmation of his sheer audacity. ¡°You¡¯re parading him in front of everyone.¡± The moon was high over the estate. The party had wound down. Isolde put Effie to bed in the guest room of the main house, then found she couldn¡¯t sleep. She stepped out onto the balcony for air. Down the hall, she saw the door to the master suite swing open. Grayson walked in, pressing his thumb to a biometric scanner on the wall until the heavy oak door clicked open. A momentter, Belle walked in behind him, holding Kaiden¡¯s hand. The door clicked shut. No separate rooms. No pretense. Isolde went back inside and began to pack. She couldn¡¯t stay under this roof another moment. A knock at the door. She frowned and opened it, expecting Harper. It was Kaiden. He was wearing dinosaur pajamas and holding a rubber duck. He looked annoyed. ¡°Hey,¡± he said. ¡°I need a bath.¡± Isolde blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Belle Mommy and Daddy are busy,¡± Kaiden said, rolling his eyes. ¡°They locked the bedroom door. Belle said you work for Daddy now, so you have to do what I say. She said you¡¯d wash me.¡± The world tilted on its axis. Work for Daddy. Busy. Isolde looked at this child ¡ª this innocent, spoiled, weaponized child. ¡°I am not your nanny,¡± Isolde said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. ¡°Daddy said you do everything,¡± Kaiden whined. ¡°You¡¯re the wife. Wives do the cleaning. I want bubbles. Lots of them.¡± Isolde stared at him. This was what Grayson had taught him ¡ª that Isolde was a utility. An appliance. Something inside her snapped. Not a break, but a release. Thest tether holding her to propriety gave way. ¡°You want a bath?¡± Isolde said. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s go ask your father.¡± She took Kaiden¡¯s arm. Not gently. . . . Chapter 183 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 ¡ª 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. T????????i??? n§à??????s o?? g§Ñ?????v§Ö??s.§ã§àm 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 ¡ª 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 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 ¡ª the optics ¡ª¡± ¡°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. . . . Chapter 184 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 ¡ª 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. ??????¡¯?? ??i?s ????? ??§Ö??????s§Ö?? o?? ??????????v??l?.?????? 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 ¡ª Isolde Carson.¡± The room erupted in apuse. Beatrice¡¯s head snapped up. Her gaze held no surprise ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª¡± ¡°Call her. Now.¡± . . . Chapter 185 Chapter 185: Grayson pulled out his phone. His hand was trembling. He dialed Isolde. It rang. And rang. And rang. Finally, it connected. ¡°Isolde?¡± He tried to sound authoritative. ¡°What do you want?¡± Her voice was ice. ¡°Grandmother is here. She wants you at dinner tonight. We¡¯re celebrating your sess.¡± ¡°I¡¯m busy,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Busy doing what?¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°Sulking?¡± ¡°I¡¯m busy signing the final affidavit for the divorce petition,¡± Isolde said, her tone perfectly level. ¡°And reviewing an update from Arthur. The motion to nullify the NDA regarding Kaiden has been fast-tracked. Yourwyers should have the notice by now.¡± Grayson¡¯s blood ran cold. ¡°Isolde, don¡¯t do this.¡± ?????? ??§Ö??? ????a????g e????e???????????? ???? ??§Ñ????????el?.c???? ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± she said. ¡°And Grayson?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t call me Isolde Lancaster anymore. It¡¯s Ms. Carson.¡± The line went dead. Grayson stared at the phone. The silence at the table was deafening. ¡°Well?¡± Beatrice asked. ¡°Is sheing?¡± Grayson looked at the empty chair. He looked at Belle, who was oblivious, angling her phone for a selfie. ¡°No,¡± Grayson whispered. ¡°She¡¯s noting back.¡± Grayson Lancaster pulled his Bentley onto the gravel driveway of the Lancaster estate. The tires crunched over the stones ¡ª a sound that usually signaled homing, but tonight it sounded like grinding teeth. He cut the engine. The silence of the Hamptons at night settled heavily around him. He checked his phone. No messages from Isolde. No messages from Belle. Just a calendar notification: Dinner with Beatrice. He adjusted his tie in the rearview mirror. He looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes were dark purple bruises against his pale skin. He drew a slow breath, trying to summon the mask of the dutiful grandson, and stepped out of the car. The heavy oak doors opened before he reached them. Higgins, the old butler, stood in the entrance. His face was a map of wrinkles, none of them formed by smiling. He looked past Grayson toward the empty passenger seat of the Bentley. ¡°Good evening, sir,¡± Higgins said. The absence of madam hung in the air like a held breath. ¡°Good evening, Higgins.¡± Grayson walked past him into the foyer. The air smelled of beeswax and old money. He walked into the dining hall. The table was long enough to seat thirty people. Tonight, it was set for two. Beatrice Lancaster sat at the far end ¡ª a small, imperious figure in a high-backed velvet chair. She didn¡¯t look up as he approached. She was cutting a piece of bread with surgical precision. ¡°Good evening, Grandmother,¡± Grayson said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Her skin felt like parchment. She didn¡¯t stop cutting the bread. ¡°Where is your wife?¡± Grayson pulled out the chair to her right. The wood scraped against the floor. ¡°Isolde isn¡¯t feeling well. She sends her apologies.¡± Beatrice finally looked at him. Her eyes were sharp, clear, and utterly devoid of warmth. ¡°Unwell. Is that the official statement? Or is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?¡± ¡°She¡¯s emotional,¡± Grayson said, unfolding his napkin. ¡°You know how she gets. She needs space.¡± . . . Chapter 186 Chapter 186: ¡°Space,¡± Beatrice repeated. She signaled toward the shadows, and a line of servers emerged from the kitchen. They ced a bowl before Beatrice and another before Grayson. Steam curled upward, carrying a rich, earthy fragrance. It was a deep, creamy roasted red pepper bisque, with a vibrant swirl of green pesto across the surface. Grayson picked up his spoon. He was hungry ¡ª he hadn¡¯t eaten since the disastrous lunch at the retreat. ¡°This smells excellent. It¡¯s a shame Isolde isn¡¯t here. She would have enjoyed this.¡± ng. Beatrice dropped her spoon. It struck the side of her fine china bowl with a sound that cracked through the room like a gunshot. The servers froze. The room went dead silent. Grayson paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. He looked at his grandmother. Her face had gone rigid. ¡°What did you just say?¡± Beatrice asked. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried more weight than a scream. J????? ?????? §ã??????????i??§å ??n g§Ñl??????el?.§ã§à?? Grayson blinked. ¡°I said she would have enjoyed it. What¡¯s wrong?¡± Beatrice stood. She was a small woman, but in that moment she seemed ten feet tall. She threw her napkin onto the table, where itnded near the butter dish. ¡°That pesto is made with pine nuts,¡± Beatrice said, each syble clipped to a sharp edge. ¡°Isolde is deathly allergic to them. She carries an EpiPen in her purse at all times. She has been your wife for five years. Have you forgotten that?¡± Grayson froze. The spoon hovered in his hand. Allergy? His mind raced backward through years of dinners, gs, dates. He remembered her ordering a simple aglio e olio when everyone else had the pesto gnhi. He remembered her declining the canap¨¦s at their wedding rehearsal. He had always assumed she was being particr. Or watching her weight. ¡°I¡­¡± Grayson started. His throat had gone dry. ¡°I knew that. Of course I knew that. I meant ¡ª if it weren¡¯t for the garnish ¡ª¡± ¡°Stop,¡± Beatrice snapped. She walked around the table until she stood directly over him. ¡°Do not insult my intelligence, Grayson. You are a fool.¡± Grayson lowered the spoon. The red soup suddenly looked like blood. ¡°You are so busy ying house with that woman and her son,¡± Beatrice hissed, ¡°that you don¡¯t even remember what could kill your own wife.¡± ¡°Belle is a colleague,¡± Grayson said automatically. ¡°And Kaiden is ¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care who they are,¡± Beatrice cut him off. ¡°I care about this family¡¯s legacy. Isolde¡¯s grandmother¡¯s memorial service is in two days. You will be there. You will stand by her side. And you will look like a husband who actually knows his wife exists.¡± ¡°I intend to be there,¡± Grayson said, his voice tight. ¡°Good. Because if you embarrass this family again ¡ª if I see one more headline about you and that Escobar woman while Isolde is in mourning ¡ª the voting rights for the family trust will be reviewed.¡± Grayson¡¯s hand clenched around his napkin. The trust. His control over SkyLine. It all hinged on her. ¡°I understand,¡± he said. . . . Chapter 187 Chapter 187: Beatrice turned and moved toward the door. ¡°Eat your soup, Grayson. Alone. It seems fitting.¡± She left the room. The heavy doors closed with a soft, final click. Grayson sat alone at the massive table. He stared down at the bisque. The smell that had seemed so appetizing minutes ago now turned his stomach. He pulled out his phone and opened his messages with Isolde. His thumb hovered over the screen. He wanted to type: Why didn¡¯t you tell me you were allergic? But a memory surfaced before he could. Two years ago. Isolde in the ER. Swollen lips. Hives spreading across her skin. She had called him. He had been at a jewelry store, selecting a bracelet for Belle¡¯s birthday. He had told Isolde he was in a meeting and sent a driver to pick her up. He hadn¡¯t even asked what had happened. He set the phone down on the white tablecloth. Itnded with a dull thud. For the first time in years, a cold, gnawing sensation spread through his chest. It wasn¡¯t love. It was something far more unsettling ¡ª the slow, terrible realization of his own negligence. Rainshed against the windows of Isolde¡¯s Tribeca apartment. It was a gray, miserable afternoon ¡ª the kind that seeped into your bones ¡ª a day made for quiet reflection before the storm of tomorrow¡¯s memorial. ??§Ö??????§å ??????e§Ñs??s §à?? ????l????v?????.§ã???? Isolde stood in front of the mirror. The cast on her right arm, a stark white against her skin, made dressing a clumsy, frustrating affair. She used her bandaged left hand to carefully smooth the fabric of a simple dark gray cashmere sweater, wincing as the material caught on the gauze. Every small movement sent a fresh throb of pain from the burn beneath. She wasn¡¯t in mourning attire yet ¡ª that was for tomorrow. Today was about duty. The buzzer rang. She walked to the inte. The concierge¡¯s voice crackled through. ¡°Mr. Lancaster is here for you, Ms. Carson.¡± She grabbed her purse and took the elevator down. She didn¡¯t want himing up. She didn¡¯t want him in her sanctuary. Grayson was waiting under the awning, holding arge ck umbre. The Bentley idled at the curb. When he saw her, he didn¡¯t smile. He looked tense. ¡°You¡¯re ready,¡± he said. It wasn¡¯t a question. ¡°I¡¯ve been ready for an hour,¡± Isolde said. ¡°This meeting with the estatewyers was your idea.¡± ¡°Grandmother insisted,¡± Grayson said, opening the car door for her. ¡°She wants all the family business settled before the service. A united front.¡± Isolde scoffed softly but slid into the leather seat. The car was warm, smelling of his cologne and polished leather. It used to be a smell thatforted her. Now it just smelled like a cage. Grayson got in and pulled out into traffic. The wipers pped rhythmically against the ss. ¡°The florist confirmed the lilies for tomorrow,¡± Grayson said, his eyes on the road. ¡°They¡¯ll be delivered to the church at nine.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Isolde said. She looked out the window at the blurred, rain-streaked city streets. . . . Chapter 188 Chapter 188: ¡°Isolde,¡± Grayson started, his voice awkward. ¡°About the dinner with my grandmother ¡ª the pine nut thing ¡ª¡± Isolde turned to him. ¡°What about it?¡± ¡°I forgot. That¡¯s all.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t forget, Grayson,¡± she said, her voice t. ¡°You never cared enough to remember.¡± He gripped the steering wheel tighter. ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡± ¡°Fair?¡± Isolde let out a dry, humorlessugh. ¡°Tomorrow we bury the woman who raised me, and you¡¯re worried about fairness?¡± Before he could respond, a sound filled the cabin. The car¡¯s Bluetooth system. A ringtone. Priority Call. The dashboard screen lit up. Belle. I????t??n?? §Ñ?????????? ???? ?????????ve????.c???? Grayson¡¯s hand shot to the console to decline it, but his finger slipped and hit Answer. Belle¡¯s voice, shrill and panicked, exploded through the speakers. ¡°Gray! You have toe now!¡± Grayson flinched. ¡°Belle? I¡¯m driving. What is it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the prototype!¡± Belle was sobbing. ¡°The InnoTech investor showcase ¡ª the main server just crashed. Smoke ising out of the drive unit. The investors are freaking out. They¡¯re talking about pulling the funding!¡± Grayson¡¯s face went white. ¡°What? Did you check the cooling loop?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Belle screamed. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to fix it! You have toe fix it! They¡¯re going to sue me, Gray! Please!¡± Isolde sat perfectly still. She watched Grayson¡¯s profile. She saw the panic in his eyes ¡ª not for her grandmother, not for her grief, but for Belle¡¯s ipetence. ¡°Okay,¡± Grayson said, his voice shifting intomand mode. ¡°Okay, calm down. I¡¯ming.¡± Isolde felt the blood drain from her face. ¡°Excuse me?¡± Grayson looked at her. For a moment he looked torn. Then his eyes moved to the dashboard clock. ¡°Isolde, this is a disaster. That¡¯s a two-hundred-million-dor investment.¡± ¡°And this is a meeting about my grandmother¡¯s will,¡± Isolde said, her voice dropping to a deadly quiet. ¡°A final wish she asked us to honor together.¡± ¡°Wishes don¡¯t bankruptpanies, Isolde!¡± Grayson snapped. ¡°This is real. Belle is about to lose everything. I have to go.¡± He swerved toward the curb and hit the brakes hard. ¡°I¡¯ll call thewyers, tell them we¡¯re rescheduling,¡± he said, his voice strained. ¡°I¡¯ll send the driver back for you as soon as I can.¡± Isolde stared at him. ¡°You¡¯re leaving me here? In the rain?¡± ¡°Isolde, I don¡¯t have time to argue,¡± Grayson said, his hand already on the door handle. ¡°This is an emergency. It¡¯s business.¡± ¡°You promise,¡± Isolde said. The words tasted like bile. ¡°I¡¯ll fix it,¡± he said ¡ª a desperate, all-epassing promise that she knew had nothing to do with her. ¡°Just wait.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t argue. She didn¡¯t scream. She simply opened her own door and stepped out into the downpour. The cold rain soaked her instantly. Her sweater clung to her skin. Her hair was stered to her forehead. Grayson didn¡¯t wait. The Bentley¡¯s tires spun on the wet asphalt, spraying a sheet of dirty water across her legs as he elerated away. Isolde stood there on the corner, shivering. The humiliation was physical ¡ª sharp and solid as a p. . . . Chapter 189 Chapter 189: A sleek ck sedan pulled up beside her. The window rolled down. And looked out. His face was a mask of controlled fury. ¡°Get in,¡± he said. Isolde opened the door and sank into the backseat. It was dry. It was safe. And handed her a towel without a word. He didn¡¯t ask what had happened. He had seen the Bentley speed off. ¡°Where to?¡± And asked. Isolde wiped the rain from her eyes. The mascara ran down her cheeks, but her gaze was clear. Hard. ¡°Home,¡± she said. ¡°But first ¡ª And, I need you to pull the financial records for Lancaster Holdings.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ???????? n§àve?? ??????? ???? ??§Ñ??n??v??????.c???? ¡°Because he just chose a server crash over a dying wish,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I want to know exactly how much that server cost him.¡± The interior of And¡¯s car was a quiet havenpared to the chaos outside. Isolde dabbed her face with the towel, her hands trembling slightly ¡ª not from cold, but from rage. And handed her a tablet. ¡°I anticipated this. I¡¯ve been tracking his liquidity since the retreat.¡± Isolde took the device. Her eyes moved across the spreadsheets ¡ª columns of numbers, transfers, assets. Her finger stopped on a single line item. ¡°Two hundred million?¡± she whispered. ¡°He put two hundred million dors into InnoTech?¡± ¡°Direct injection,¡± And confirmed, ncing at her in the rearview mirror. ¡°And look at the date. Yesterday.¡± Isolde scrolled down. ¡°This isn¡¯t just an investment. This is a bailout. InnoTech is bleeding cash. Why would he do this?¡± ¡°Because Belle wants a seat at the table,¡± And said. ¡°Professor Nelson¡¯s new consortium requires a massive capital buy-in for partners. Grayson is buying her a ticket.¡± Augh bubbled up in Isolde¡¯s throat ¡ª dark and dangerous. ¡°He¡¯s buying her a career. With family money.¡± She swiped to the next tab. Her breath hitched. ¡°He¡¯s leveraging his position at the bank.¡± The realizationnded harder than the rain had. ¡°He¡¯s triggered a risk assessment on Carson Dynamics.¡± ¡°He¡¯s not just triggering it,¡± And corrected. ¡°He¡¯s actively feeding the auditors biased data. He¡¯s squeezing your supply chain, gging your ounts. He wants to freeze your credit lines so Ellyn has toe crawling to him for money.¡± Isolde stared at the screen. The man she had married wasn¡¯t merely indifferent. He was actively working to destroy her lineage while propping up his mistress. ¡°That call,¡± Isolde said, her mind turning rapidly. ¡°Belle said the drive unit was smoking. The server crashed.¡± ¡°I saw the specs they released,¡± And said. ¡°They¡¯re using a cooling architecture we discarded five years ago. It can¡¯t handle the load. It will overheat every single time.¡± Isolde looked out the window. The rain blurred the city lights into long, trembling streaks. ¡°He¡¯s pouring millions into a sinking ship,¡± she murmured. ¡°He thinks he¡¯s saving her. But he¡¯s only feeding a fire.¡± ¡°We can expose it,¡± And said. ¡°I can release theparison data ¡ª show that InnoTech is running obsolete technology. It would kill their stock price by morning.¡± Isolde shook her head slowly. ¡°No.¡± . . . Chapter 190 Chapter 190: And nced at her, surprised. ¡°No?¡± ¡°If we expose it now, he cuts his losses,¡± Isolde said, her voice cold and precise. ¡°He writes it off as a bad investment and moves on. He still has his fortune. He still has his power.¡± She looked back at the tablet. At the two hundred million. ¡°Let him fix it,¡± she said. ¡°Let him pour more money in. Let him drain the trust fund to save face. Let him bleed.¡± ¡°You want to bait him,¡± And said, the realization settling over him. ¡°I want him to feel what it¡¯s like to be helpless,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I want him so overextended that when the crash finallyes, there¡¯s no safety left.¡± The car slowed. They were approaching her apartment. ¡°What about Carson Dynamics?¡± And asked. ¡°If he freezes your credit ¡ª¡± ????i?? ou?? ????m??u??????? ??n g??l???????????.?????? ¡°We hold the line,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I¡¯ll find another way to get cash. I won¡¯t let him win.¡± She handed the tablet back to And. ¡°Thank you. For everything.¡± ¡°Always,¡± he said. Isolde stepped out of the car. The rain had softened to a drizzle. She walked into the lobby, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. Her phone buzzed. It was Ellyn. ¡°Isolde,¡± her mother¡¯s voice was trembling. ¡°The bank just called. They froze our credit line. They said there¡¯s an irregrity gged by one of our major investors.¡± ¡°Lancaster,¡± Isolde said. ¡°We can¡¯t make payroll next week,¡± Ellyn sobbed. ¡°Isolde, what are we going to do? The workers will walk.¡± Isolde closed her eyes. She leaned against the cool wall of the elevator. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mom,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡± ¡°How? We have no money.¡± ¡°I have something better than money,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I have leverage.¡± She hung up and looked at her reflection in the polished steel elevator doors. She wasn¡¯t just fighting for apany. She was fighting for her grandmother¡¯s legacy. Isolde sat in the back corner of a dimly lit coffee shop in Midtown. Across from her sat a man in a beige trench coat who looked like a professor but scanned the room with a soldier¡¯s eyes. Dr. Vance. The recruiter from The Institute. He slid a thick man envelope across the table. ¡°Project 511. Next-generation satellite navigation. Fully funded by the DOD. We want you, Sophia.¡± Isolde ran her hand over the envelope. This was it ¡ª the golden ticket. The kind of work she had dreamed of before she became Mrs. Lancaster. ¡°It¡¯s a three-year contract,¡± Dr. Vance said. ¡°Full autonomy. But there¡¯s a catch.¡± Isolde looked up. ¡°There always is.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a sensitive project,¡± Vance said. ¡°The full offer stands, but it¡¯s for your future ¡ª a ce tond once your current entanglements are resolved. For now, we¡¯d like to bring you on as a remote Chief Consultant. The initial vetting is intensive, though. It requires your full focus.¡± Isolde¡¯s hand went still. Even as a consultant, themitment would be all-consuming. . . . Chapter 191 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 ¡ª diving deep into a new andplex project ¡ª 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. ????????c???????? ??ov????? ??? ????l???????ls.?????? 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 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.¡± . . . Chapter 192 Chapter 192: Isolde turned toward therge television mounted on the waiting area wall. It was tuned to a business news channel. Breaking News: InnoTech unveils new facility with major backing from Lancaster Holdings. There he was. Grayson. Smiling. Holding a pair of oversized golden scissors. And standing right beside him, beaming as though she had just won the lottery, was Belle. Isolde stared at the screen. She hadn¡¯t been made a fool of by waiting ¡ª she had confirmed his priorities. She had the proof she needed. She had offered him a chance, and in return she had received absolute certainty. While her family¡¯spany teetered on the edge of copse, he was ying dress-up with his mistress. ¡°Thank you, Liam,¡± Isolde said, her voice stripped of all feeling. She turned and walked back to the elevators. She didn¡¯t look back. She didn¡¯t cry. She just burned. ???????? ?????? ??????????????t?? ???? g?????ove????.????m The wind outside Lancaster Tower was biting. Isolde stood on the sidewalk, the giant screen in the lobby still visible through the ss. Grayson cut the ribbon. The crowd pped. Belleughed, throwing her head back. It was a perfect picture. A lie wrapped in silk and money. Isolde pulled out her phone and dialed Grayson¡¯s private number. On the screen inside, she watched him pause. He reached into his pocket, looked at the caller ID, and his smile faltered. He stepped away from the cameras, handing the scissors to Belle. ¡°Isolde?¡± His voice came through the phone, thin and annoyed. ¡°I¡¯m in the middle of something.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Isolde said, watching him on the screen. ¡°I¡¯m watching you. I¡¯m standing outside your office. I came to discuss the Carson Dynamics audit you initiated.¡± Grayson turned away from the cameras, pressing a hand over his other ear. ¡°Why? What do you want?¡± ¡°Unfreeze the ounts,¡± Isolde said, dispensing with pleasantries. ¡°Carson Dynamics. Release the credit line.¡± Grayson sighed. ¡°Isolde, this is business. Your mother¡¯spany is a risk. My analysts ¡ª¡± ¡°Your analysts do what you tell them,¡± Isolde cut him off. ¡°And if you don¡¯t release the funds by tomorrow morning, I¡¯m going to release my own analysis to the board. I have the logs from the Javits Center stress test. I know where the money for InnoTech is reallying from. Do you want the SEC to see that before the market opens?¡± On the screen, Grayson went very still. He scanned the room around him, suddenly paranoid. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t,¡± he hissed. ¡°That would tank the stock. Your alimony would be worthless.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want your alimony,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I want my mother¡¯spany to survive the week.¡± Grayson was silent for a moment. He looked at Belle, who was waving at photographers. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll make a call. The funds will be avable at nine AM.¡± Isolde released a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she was holding. ¡°Good.¡± ¡°But,¡± Grayson added, his voice dropping an octave, ¡°there¡¯s a condition.¡± ¡°Of course there is.¡± . . . Chapter 193 Chapter 193: ¡°Tomorrow. The memorial service,¡± Grayson said. ¡°You will be on your best behavior. You will hold my arm. You will sit next to me. And you will smile. If Beatrice catches even a whiff of discord, the deal is off ¡ª and I will crush your mother¡¯spany into dust.¡± Isolde gripped the phone so hard her knuckles turned white. He was ckmailing her with her own grief. ¡°I understand,¡± she said. ¡°Good girl,¡± Grayson said. ¡°See you at the church.¡± ??????? t??ou?????????? §àf ???????? ??? ????l??o??e????.?????? He hung up. On the screen, he pocketed his phone, adjusted his suit jacket, and walked back to Belle. He put his arm around her waist and smiled for the cameras. Isolde lowered her phone. She felt physically ill. ¡°Good girl,¡± she whispered to the empty street. She hailed a cab. As she sat in the back watching the city slide past, she made herself a promise. This was thest time. Thest time she would beg. Thest time she would trade her pride for survival. She opened her phone and typed a message to And. He took the bait. Funds are released. But I need to elerate the n. I need the B-side evidence. Now. The morning of the memorial was overcast. The sky was a sheet of unbleached cotton, threatening rain but never delivering. Isolde stood at the entrance of the old stone church in Queens ¡ª the ce where her grandmother had been baptized, married, and where she would now be eulogized. She wore a simple, high-necked ck dress. Her right arm, confined in its cast, rested in a ck silk sling that blended with the fabric. Her left hand, wrapped in fresh white bandages, was held carefully at her side. She greeted the arriving guests with a solemn nod in ce of a handshake ¡ª a gesture most attributed to grief rather than the searing pain of the burn beneath the gauze. Cousins she hadn¡¯t seen in years. Old neighbors. Business partners of herte grandfather. ¡°So sorry for your loss,¡± they murmured. And then, inevitably: ¡°Where is your husband?¡± ¡°He¡¯s on his way,¡± Isolde repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time. Her jaw ached from holding the same brittle smile. Ellyn stood beside her, weeping into a handkerchief, grief having stripped her of her usual frantic energy. Uncle Saul rolled up in his wheelchair, a portable oxygen tank at his side, his face gaunt but his eyes still sharp. ¡°He¡¯s not here,¡± Saul rasped. It wasn¡¯t a question. ¡°He¡¯sing,¡± Isolde said, adjusting the nket across Saul¡¯sp. ¡°He should be here now,¡± Saul grumbled. ¡°Disrespectful. If I had my legs ¡ª¡± A sleek ck Rolls Royce pulled up to the curb. Isolde straightened. Finally. But when the driver opened the door, it wasn¡¯t Grayson. It was Beatrice. The matriarch stepped out, leaning heavily on a cane. She wore a ck hat with a veil that did nothing to conceal the disapproval in her eyes. She walked straight to Isolde ¡ª no hug, no condolences. ¡°Where is he?¡± Beatrice demanded. Isolde felt a spike of panic. ¡°He had ast-minute issue at the office. He¡¯s driving himself.¡± . . . Chapter 194 Chapter 194: Beatrice¡¯s lips thinned. ¡°I told him. I specifically told him.¡± She nced at her watch. ¡°The service starts in ten minutes. If he is not in that pew when the priest begins, there will be consequences.¡± She swept past Isolde into the church. Isolde stepped around the corner of the building, away from the guests, and pulled out her phone. She dialed Grayson. Voicemail. She dialed again. Voicemail. ¡°Damn you,¡± she whispered. ¡°Damn you, Grayson.¡± She dialed a third time. It rang and rang and rang. Finally, a click. ????????l???? ??????????es ???? ??a?????????????.c??m ¡°Hello?¡± Grayson¡¯s voice. He sounded breathless. ¡°Where are you?¡± Isolde hissed. ¡°Beatrice is here. The service is starting.¡± ¡°I¡¯ming. Traffic is a nightmare on the bridge.¡± ¡°You should have left an hour ago. You promised.¡± ¡°I know, I know. I¡¯m ten minutes away. Just stall them.¡± ¡°Stall a funeral?¡± Isolde asked, incredulous. ¡°Are you insane?¡± ¡°Just do it, Isolde. I¡¯ll be there.¡± In the background, she heard a sound. A distinct, metallic zip. Then a woman¡¯s voice ¡ª muffled, but audible. ¡°Ouch. Gray, be careful. It¡¯s stuck.¡± Isolde went perfectly still. The blood in her veins turned to ice. ¡°Who is that?¡± she asked. ¡°What? No one. The radio,¡± Grayson stammered. ¡°Look, I¡¯m driving. I¡¯ll be there.¡± He hung up. Isolde lowered the phone and stared at the brick wall of the church. A zipper. It¡¯s stuck. He wasn¡¯t in traffic. He was getting dressed. Or undressed. With her. A wave of nausea hit so hard she had to press her hand t against the wall to steady herself. He was with Belle. Right now. While she was burying her grandmother. She closed her eyes. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But she couldn¡¯t. She had a role to y. She drew a slow breath, smoothed her dress, and walked back to the church entrance. Just as she reached the doors, a bright red Ferrari roared into the parking lot and came to a diagonal stop across two spaces. Isolde¡¯s heart sank. Her father, Keyon Carson, stepped out. He was wearing a suit that was too shiny, too tight, and wholly inappropriate. On his arm was a woman who looked young enough to be his daughter, chewing gum with cheerful indifference. ¡°Well, well,¡± Keyon called out, spotting Isolde. ¡°Look at the grieving granddaughter.¡± Isolde stepped directly into his path. ¡°Dad. Not today.¡± ¡°Get out of my way,¡± Keyon sneered. He smelled of whiskey and cheap cologne. ¡°I¡¯m here to pay my respects. And to find out what the old bat left me in the will.¡± ¡°She left you nothing,¡± Isolde said. ¡°She wrote you out ten years ago. Go home.¡± ¡°You ungrateful little ¡ª¡± Keyon raised his hand. ¡°Hey!¡± Saul wheeled himself forward, his oxygen tube rattling. ¡°You touch her, Keyon, and I¡¯ll run you over.¡± Keyonughed. ¡°You? You¡¯re half dead, Saul.¡± ¡°I¡¯m alive enough to call the cops,¡± Saul wheezed. ¡°Get out.¡± Guests were staring and whispering. It was a circus. A nightmare. Then tires screeched at the curb. Grayson¡¯s Bentley pulled up behind the Ferrari. . . . Chapter 195 Chapter 195: Grayson stepped out looking impable ¡ª not a hair out of ce. He adjusted his cufflinks as he walked toward them, taking in the scene: the drunk father, the dying uncle, the pale wife. He didn¡¯t look guilty. He looked annoyed. ¡°Is there a problem here?¡± Grayson asked, his voice carrying easy authority. Keyon looked at him and shrank back slightly. Money recognized money. ¡°Just¡­ family business,¡± Keyon muttered. ¡°Leave,¡± Grayson said ¡ª quietly, without raising his voice. He didn¡¯t need to. Keyon grumbled something under his breath, grabbed his girlfriend¡¯s arm, and got back in the Ferrari. He peeled out of the lot. Th?? ??o??t ????§âu??§Ñr n????§Öl?? §à?? g??l???v??l??.??o?? Grayson turned to Isolde. He reached out and took her hand, his grip firm ¡ª too firm. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± he said. Isolde looked at him. She caught it beneath the expensive cologne, underneath everything he wore like armor. Midnight Rose. Belle¡¯s perfume. She felt like vomiting. ¡°You¡¯rete,¡± she whispered. ¡°Let¡¯s go inside,¡± Grayson said, pulling her toward the doors. ¡°Grandmother is watching.¡± The church was cool and smelled of incense and damp stone. Isolde walked down the aisle with her arm linked through Grayson¡¯s. To the onlookers, he was the pir of strength supporting his grieving wife. To Isolde, he was a shackle. They reached the front pew. Beatrice was already seated, staring straight ahead at the altar. Grayson leaned in. ¡°Grandmother.¡± Beatrice gave a barely perceptible nod. ¡°You cut it close.¡± ¡°Traffic,¡± Grayson whispered smoothly. They sat. Isolde settled between Grayson and Saul, acutely aware of the heat radiating from Grayson¡¯s body. He was calm. Composed. The service began. The priest spoke about kindness and legacy. Isolde tried to listen, tried to summon her grandmother¡¯sugh, the particr warmth of her hands. But all she could focus on was the pressure of Grayson¡¯s hand on hers. He had taken her hand in hisp and was slowly rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. It looked affectionate. But every time she tried to pull away, his grip tightened. Stay put, his hand said. Perform. Isolde studied his profile. He wore an expression of polite sorrow ¡ª nodding at precisely the right moments, bowing his head during the prayer with practiced humility. He was acting. Every gesture a performance for Beatrice, for the shareholders, for the room. She let her gaze drop to his shirt cor. There, just below the jawline, faint but unmistakable against the white starched cotton ¡ª a smudge. Pinkish-red. Lipstick. Isolde¡¯s breath caught. She looked away, fixing her eyes on the stained ss window above the altar. Jesus wept. She wanted to weep ¡ª not for her grandmother, who was finally at peace, but for herself. For the five years she had given to a man who would arrive at a funeral with his mistress¡¯s lipstick on his cor. Saul reached over and patted her other hand. His skin was paper-thin and cold, but his touch was real. Isolde squeezed his hand and let go of Grayson¡¯s. Grayson shot her a look. A warning. Isolde ignored it. She kept her hand in Saul¡¯s. The service ended. They rose for the final hymn. ¡°Amazing Grace¡­¡± Grayson sang. He had a pleasant baritone. . . . Chapter 196 Chapter 196: Isolde stood in silence. Her lips wouldn¡¯t move. As the congregation filed out, the sun made a half-hearted attempt to break through the clouds and failed. ¡°That went well,¡± Grayson murmured close to her ear as they stepped into the gray daylight. ¡°Beatrice seems appeased.¡± ¡°Is that all you care about?¡± Isolde asked, keeping her voice low. ¡°Beatrice?¡± ¡°I care about our future,¡± Grayson said. ¡°And about unfreezing your mother¡¯s ounts. Remember the deal.¡± ¡°I remember,¡± Isolde said. They walked to the reception hall next door. It was time for the wake ¡ª coffee, sandwiches, and more acting. The reception hall hummed with low conversation. Grayson was in his element ¡ª charming the elderlydies, shaking hands with the businessmen, epting condolences with practiced grace. ??h§Ñ???? ???????? ????????g?????? §à?? ??a????????e????.?????? Isolde stood by the coffee urn, feeling detached, watching him work the room. He was a shark in a tank of goldfish. Beatrice held court from a corner chair. Grayson made a point of checking in with her every ten minutes. Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed in her purse. A text from And. I have the logs. It¡¯s worse than we thought. Check your email when you can. She couldn¡¯t check it now. Not with Grayson watching. Across the room, his expression shifted. He checked his watch, then his phone, and frowned. He made his way over to Isolde. ¡°I have to go,¡± he said. Isolde blinked. ¡°What? The reception just started. People are still arriving.¡± ¡°Something came up. Urgent business. A merger in Europe ¡ª the partners are on a conference call.¡± ¡°A merger,¡± Isolde repeated. ¡°On a Sunday?¡± ¡°Global markets never sleep, Isolde,¡± he said, with the practiced condescension of someone who had said it many times before. ¡°You know that.¡± ¡°Is it the merger?¡± Isolde asked, looking him dead in the eye. ¡°Or is it the zipper?¡± Grayson¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°I heard her, Grayson. On the phone. ¡®It¡¯s stuck.''¡± Grayson didn¡¯t flush. He didn¡¯t stammer. He simply went cold. ¡°You¡¯re hysterical,¡± he said. ¡°Grief is making you hear things. I¡¯m going to the office. Stay here and make excuses for me.¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I won¡¯t make excuses for you. If you leave, you tell Beatrice yourself.¡± Grayson held her gaze for a moment, then turned and walked across the room to Beatrice. Isolde watched. He leaned down, whispered something close to her ear. Beatrice frowned, then gave a slow nod and waved her hand, releasing him. He had won. Again. Grayson walked back toward the door without so much as a nce at Isolde. He simply walked out, and the door swung shut behind him. A hand settled on her arm. Saul. ¡°He¡¯s gone?¡± Saul asked. ¡°He has business,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Business,¡± Saul scoffed. He coughed ¡ª a wet, rattling sound that came from somewhere deep. ¡°Isolde. Look at me.¡± Isolde looked down at her uncle. ¡°You are a Carson,¡± Saul said. ¡°We build things. We fix things. But some things are too broken to fix. You have to scrap them and start over.¡± . . . Chapter 197 Chapter 197: A tear slid down Isolde¡¯s cheek before she could stop it. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t let him break you,¡± Saul said, his voice fierce despite its thinness. ¡°You have fire in you, girl. I saw it when you were a kid ¡ª building those rockets in the backyard. Where did that girl go?¡± ¡°She¡¯s been sleeping,¡± Isolde whispered. ¡°Then wake her up,¡± Saul said. ¡°Before it¡¯s toote.¡± Isolde wiped her face. She looked at the door where Grayson had gone. She thought about the lipstick. The perfume. The two hundred million dors. The lies stacked on top of lies. And then she thought about Effie. ¡°She¡¯s awake,¡± Isolde said. Her voice was steadier now, quiet and certain. ¡°She¡¯s awake.¡± ?????????????? ?????????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? The reception wound down. The guests trickled out. Isolde helped Ellyn pack up the leftover food. ¡°Did Grayson say when the funds would be released?¡± Ellyn asked nervously. ¡°Tomorrow morning,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mom.¡± She put Ellyn in a cab and made sure Saul was safely aboard his medical transport. Then she stood alone on the sidewalk. She didn¡¯t call a car service. She didn¡¯t go back to the apartment. She walked. She walked for blocks, letting the cool air work through her, and pulled out her phone to open the email from And. It was a PDF. InnoTech Technical Audit ¡ª Confidential. She scrolled through it. The picture it painted was a disaster. The cooling system was fundamentally wed. The chip architecture had been giarized from a generic Chinese manufacturer. The so-called proprietary algorithm was nothing more than a basic loop script. And Grayson had bet the farm on it. She scrolled to the bottom. There was a photograph ¡ª taken yesterday at the ribbon cutting. A close-up of Belle holding the blueprints, the technical specs clearly visible in the frame. Isolde zoomed in. The thermal dissipation equations had been copied from a decade-old textbook, with a critical variable missing entirely. It wasn¡¯t innovation. It was a high school science fair project dressed up with a nine-figure budget. Belle couldn¡¯t even see the fatal w in her own design. Isolde started tough ¡ª a quiet, shakingugh that she muffled with her bandaged hand. She stopped walking. She was standing in front of a twenty-four-hour electronics store. She went inside. ¡°Can I help you, miss?¡± the clerk asked. ¡°I need a military-grade encrypted SSD,¡± Isolde said. ¡°The most secure one you have.¡± ¡°Big project?¡± the clerk asked, visibly impressed. ¡°Something like that,¡± Isolde said. She bought the drive, then stepped back outside and hailed a cab. ¡°Where to?¡± ¡°Lancaster Tower,¡± Isolde said. ¡°But I need to make one other stop first.¡± Isolde walked into the lobby of Lancaster Tower. It waste. The night shift security guard nodded at her ¡ª he didn¡¯t know she was the ex-wife yet. She rode the elevator up to the penthouse. The car ascended in smooth, perfect silence. The doors opened into the foyer. It was dark. Grayson wasn¡¯t home. He was probably with Belle. . . . Chapter 198 Chapter 198: Isolde walked into the living room. It smelled of lemon polish and emptiness. She went to the master bedroom and opened the closet. Grayson¡¯s suits were arranged by color. His shoes stood in neat rows. She pulled out the shipping boxes she had picked up on the way and began to pack ¡ª methodically, deliberately, her bandaged left hand stiff and aching as she folded the expensive fabrics. Armani. Tom Ford. She wrapped his shoes in tissue paper. His watches. His golf clubs. She sealed each box with packing tape and wrote on the side in thick ck marker: DONATION. C/O BEATRICE LANCASTER FOUNDATION FOR THE HOMELESS. His grandmother¡¯s pet charity. Then she went to the safe and entered the code. 0505. Effie¡¯s birthday. The door swung open. ????n¡¯?? ?????s ????? ??e????????§Ö?? o?? ?????????ve??s.c???? Inside were papers. Deeds. Passports. And a small velvet box. Isolde opened it. A diamond ne ¡ªrge, ostentatious. There was a note folded inside. For Belle. Happy Anniversary. Isolde stared at it. Her stomach turned not with surprise, but with the cold, final confirmation of a long-suspected truth. Five years. Their entire marriage had been a lie, funded by her family¡¯s name. He and Belle had been together since the beginning ¡ª since before Effie was born. She didn¡¯t throw the ne. She put it in her pocket. She took the passports. She took the deeds. She walked out of the bedroom and crossed to the main control panel for the penthouse¡¯s integrated smart-home system. The screen glowed to life. She was an engineer ¡ª she knew these systems intimately. She had helped design the security subroutines years ago, insisting on a failsafe administrator protocol that Grayson had dismissed as paranoid. Twenty minutester, having exploited the very backdoor she had built, it was done. She created a new master administrator profile ¡ª herself ¡ª and deleted Grayson¡¯s. His biometrics, his passcodes, his key fobs: all rendered useless. She locked the door from the inside, then left through the service elevator, whose ess she had preserved for herself. She took out her phone and dialed And. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± she said. ¡°Where are you?¡± And asked. ¡°Leaving the tower. I¡¯m going to the office.¡± ¡°Now? It¡¯s nearly midnight.¡± ¡°I have an idea,¡± Isolde said. ¡°About the cooling system. If InnoTech¡¯s design is failing, I know how to fix it.¡± ¡°Why would you want to fix it?¡± And asked. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Isolde said. ¡°I want to build a better one. And when his crashes, I want to be the only option left.¡± She stepped into the service elevator. ¡°And?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Call thewyers. File the papers. And tell them to serve him tomorrow morning ¡ª at the office, in front of everyone.¡± ¡°Copy that,¡± And said. ¡°Wee back, Valkyrie.¡± Isolde hung up. She watched the floor numbers count down. Penthouse¡­ 40¡­ 30¡­ 20¡­ Lobby. The doors opened. She walked out into the night. It was raining again, and she didn¡¯t have an umbre. This time, she didn¡¯t mind. It felt like a baptism. She was clean. She was free. And she wasing for them. . . . Chapter 199 Chapter 199: The first twenty-four hours after the funeral passed in a blur of sterile silence. Isolde had returned to the Tribeca apartment ¡ª the sanctuary And had secured for her when she first broke free. Unlike the cold, cavernous penthouse she had shared with Grayson, this ce didn¡¯t feel tainted. It felt like the first page of a book she was finally allowed to write. And had ensured the refrigerator was stocked and the security imprable; it was a fortress of ss and steel in the heart of the city. She spent most of the day in bed, a low-grade fever clinging to her like a shroud. The doctor And had sent over confirmed what she already knew: a hairline fracture in her right wrist where Kaiden¡¯s impact had stressed the cast, and second-degree burns on her left hand showing early signs of infection. He adjusted the cast, redressed the burns with silver-infused gauze, and prescribed antibiotics that left her head feeling stuffed with cotton. Effie was her shadow. She would crawl onto the bed with a book and read aloud in a soft, earnest voice. She didn¡¯t ask about her father. She didn¡¯t ask about the old life. It was as though she understood, with that strange wisdom of hers, that the world had fractured and they were now on a new timeline. Late in the afternoon, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Ellyn: The funds are in! All of them! The credit line ispletely restored. He did it. Isolde, maybe this is a sign. Maybe he¡¯s trying. Isolde stared at the message. He wasn¡¯t trying. He was paying the ransom. This wasn¡¯t an apology ¡ª it was a transaction to keep her silent andpliant through the memorial. The deal was settled, and now it was done. She didn¡¯t reply. Instead, she pressed herself upright, her body aching in protest. ¡°Effie, baby, can you bring me myptop?¡± It was the machine And had configured for her ¡ª sleek and powerful. She opened it and logged into a secure server. And had already uploaded the contents of the hard drive she had risked everything to retrieve. Project Phoenix. Version 1.0. Her old life, staring back at her in lines of code. ???? ???????? of §à???? §ã??????un?????? §à?? g?????§à??§Öl?.§ã???? She pulled up the thermal dynamics for the InnoTech Icarus engine. It was a ghost ¡ª a design she had sketched on a napkin years ago and abandoned because of a fatal w. They hadn¡¯t fixed it. They had simply dressed it in a prettier shell. At 30,000 RPM, the central shaft would overheat, the heat buildup triggering a catastrophic failure. ¡°What are you building, Mommy?¡± Effie asked, peering at theplex three-dimensional model on the screen. She pointed a small finger at a swirl of deep red indicating thermal stress. ¡°That part looks angry. It¡¯s too red.¡± . . . Chapter 200 Chapter 200: Isolde went still. She looked where Effie pointed. It was the precise core of the problem ¡ª a w she perceived in numbers and equations, but one Effie saw simply as an angry color. Effie¡¯s synesthesia wasn¡¯t just a quirk. It was a diagnostic tool. ¡°You¡¯re right, baby,¡± Isolde whispered, a n beginning to take shape through the fog of her fever. ¡°It is too angry. But I know how to make it calm.¡± Her hands were clumsy and nearly useless ¡ª the right immobilized in its cast, the left wrapped in thick bandaging. She couldn¡¯t type. She couldn¡¯t use a mouse. Frustration, hot and sharp, pricked at her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t ¡ª¡± she started, her voice cracking. ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± a voice said from the doorway. And was there, as he always seemed to be when the walls began closing in. He had let himself in with his emergency key, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a ss of water. ¡°Talk,¡± he said, setting the tray down. ¡°I¡¯ll be your hands.¡± He set up a holographic keyboard and a secondary monitor on the desk facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. For the next hour, she didn¡¯t simply rebuild her old engine ¡ª she dictated the creation of an entirely new one. She spoke, and And typed, his fingers moving across the projected keys, tranting her vision into reality. ¡°I want them tounch,¡± she said, her eyes fixed on the screen with quiet intensity. ¡°I want them to stand on that stage, with the whole world watching, and unveil a machine that is fundamentally, fatally wed. And then ¡ª¡± ??ew ????§Ñ?????????? ????e???? w?????? o?? ????????????§Ö????.§ã???? ¡°Then?¡± And prompted, his own eyes gleaming. ¡°Then I unveil mine,¡± she said. ¡°The one that works.¡± The dining room at the Lancaster Estate was a cavern of mahogany and shadows. The chandelier overhead had been dimmed, casting long, skeletal shapes across a table that could seat thirty but was set tonight for three. Victoria sat at the head, looking like a monarch on a fading throne. Isolde sat to her right, having agreed to this dinner only after Victoria threatened to freeze the trust that covered Uncle Saul¡¯s medical care. Effie sat across from her, legs dangling from the tall chair, too short to reach the floor. Grayson¡¯s chair was empty. Victoria stared at the vacant ce as though her gaze alone could materialize him. When it didn¡¯t, she turned her attention to Effie. Effie was carefully moving peas around her te with a fork. ¡°How is her schooling?¡± Victoria asked, taking a sip of wine. ¡°Is she showing any useful aptitudes?¡± ¡°She¡¯s doing very well,¡± Isolde said, keeping her voice even. ¡°Her teacher says she has a gift for mathematics. She¡¯s already working with abstract geometries.¡± Victoria set her ss down with a sharp clink. ¡°Mathematics. Isolde, you are being naive. You know what this family does with assets, and a child with a gift for numbers is an asset. She needs to focus on etiquette, art, French ¡ª things that will make her appear refined. We don¡¯t need another mechanic in the family.¡± Isolde¡¯s hand tightened around her fork. ¡°It¡¯s not an asset, Victoria. It¡¯s her mind.¡± . . .
Message from Noa: Lovely readers, I hope you have a great time these days. God loves you and Noa wishes you all the best. (©¤??©¤) . Chapter 201 Chapter 201: ¡°The future is dangerous,¡± Victoria replied. ¡°You spent your youth tinkering with engines, and look where it has left you ¡ª a broken arm, a failing marriage, and a husband who has turned this family into a public spectacle. You made yourself a target. I will not allow Effie to suffer the same fate.¡± Effie dropped her fork. It ttered against the te. She looked up, her expression not one of hurt, but of genuine confusion. ¡°Is that why Daddy isn¡¯t here?¡± she asked, her voice clear and steady. ¡°Because he doesn¡¯t understand the numbers?¡± Something inside Isolde didn¡¯t merely snap. It ignited. Thest thread of deference binding her to this family burned away. She stood up. ¡°That is enough.¡± Victoria¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Sit down. We are not finished.¡± ¡°We are,¡± Isolde said. She walked around the table and helped Effie down from her chair. Effie took her bandaged hand with great care. ¡°You can insult me all you want, Victoria. You can dress your cruelty up as concern. But you will not poison my daughter¡¯s mind. You will not make her feel small because she is smart.¡± ¡°You walk out that door,¡± Victoria warned, her voice trembling with indignation, ¡°and you disrespect the Lancaster name.¡± ¡°The Lancaster name is already rotting,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Grayson is managing that perfectly well without my help.¡± She led Effie out of the dining room, past the stunned staff, and out to the car And had arranged. She buckled Effie in. Effie was quiet. ??at????t ????§Ñ§â???????? ???? ?????????????????.?????? ¡°Mommy,¡± Effie said as Isolde started the engine. ¡°Grandmother is like a broken equation. The parts don¡¯t add up to the right answer.¡± Isolde looked at her daughter in the rearview mirror, and for the first time since the funeral, she smiled ¡ª a real smile. ¡°You are absolutely right, Effie. And we don¡¯t have to solve her.¡± As she drove them back through the city, the lights blurring past the windows, a news alert shed on the car¡¯s disy. INNOTECH TO UNVEIL ¡®ICARUS¡¯ DRONE PROPULSION SYSTEM AT NELSON SYMPOSIUM. She turned up the volume. The screen showed a sleekputer-generated model of a drone engine. A spokesperson ¡ª Belle ¡ª was speaking about revolutionary airflow dynamics. Isolde stared at the screen. She knew those curves. She knew that intake manifold. Belle had stolen it. She must have found Isolde¡¯s old sketchbooks in the penthouse study. If they built that prototype, it wouldn¡¯t just fail. It would explode. People could die. And Grayson had poured two hundred million dors of family money into it. The original sketchbooks ¡ª the hand-drawn schematics ¡ª were still in the penthouse. They were the one thing that would prove her intellectual property im beyond any legal doubt. The digital files on the drive were her work, but the physical books were her history. Her grandmother¡¯s legacy lived in the notes scrawled in the margins. She looked out at the sky. A storm was rolling in, the clouds turning a bruised, deep purple. She had to get those books. The wind nearly ripped the car door from her hand as she parked in front of Lancaster Tower. Rain wasing down in sheets, turning the streetlights into blurred streaks of color. . . . Chapter 202 Chapter 202: She ran for the private entrance ¡ª the one reserved for penthouse residents. Her coat was soaked through in seconds, the cold water seeping into the bandages on her left arm and making the burned skin scream. She reached the lobby. It was empty except for the night security guard, a man named Ralph who had smiled at her every day for five years. She crossed to the elevator bank and pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner. Beep. A red light shed. ACCESS DENIED. She frowned, wiped her thumb on her coat, and tried again. Beep. ACCESS DENIED. ???????? w?tho??t ??????????????????????s §àn g??????????????s.c???? ¡°Mrs. Lancaster?¡± Isolde turned. Ralph was standing behind his desk looking ufortable, his eyes not quite meeting hers. ¡°There was an upgrade this afternoon,¡± he said, his voice low. ¡°Mr. Lancaster had an emergency security teame in ¡ª a private contractor. They installed apletely new hardwiredwork. He said the old one had beenpromised.¡± Compromised. By her. He had moved faster than she¡¯d anticipated. ¡°I live here, Ralph,¡± Isolde said, her voice steady despite the fury coiling in her gut. ¡°I am his wife.¡± ¡°I know, ma¡¯am,¡± Ralph said, shifting his weight. ¡°But the list ¡ª your name isn¡¯t on the new ess roster. Only Mr. Lancaster and Ms. Escobar have administrative ess.¡± Ms. Escobar. Belle had locked her out of her own home. ¡°I need to get upstairs,¡± Isolde said, her voice rising. ¡°I have personal property in that apartment. Medical supplies.¡± It was a small lie, but a necessary one. ¡°I can¡¯t let you up without authorization,¡± Ralph said, his face etched with regret. ¡°My hands are tied. I¡¯m sorry.¡± She turned away, fighting the urge to scream. She walked back to the vestibule, out of Ralph¡¯s pitying gaze, and pulled out her phone. Not to call Grayson. Never again to beg. She dialed And. It rang once. ¡°Isolde? What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°He¡¯s installed a new physical security system at the Tower. A Citadel-7. I¡¯m locked out. Can you get in?¡± A pause, then the sound of rapid typing. ¡°It¡¯s military-grade. Brute force is out. But every system has a maintenance protocol. I can trigger a simted catastrophic failure in the HVAC controls on the penthouse level ¡ª it will force a system-wide security bypass for emergency services for exactly ny seconds. When you hear the rm, you¡¯ll have one shot at the elevator.¡± ¡°Do it,¡± she said, and hung up. She walked back to the elevator bank, her heart pounding, and stood watching the floor indicator ¡ª ignoring Ralph¡¯s worried stare. Thirty secondster, a piercing rm tore through the lobby. Red lights began to pulse. EVACUATE. EVACUATE. FIRE SUPPRESSION SYSTEM ACTIVATED ¡ª PENTHOUSE LEVEL. The elevator panel, previously dark, zed to life. The biometric scanner glowed green. She pressed the button. The doors slid open. She stepped inside just as Ralph was reaching for his radio, his face creased with confusion. The doors closed, sealing her in silence as the car began its rapid ascent. The elevator opened directly into the penthouse foyer. The warmth of the apartment hit her like a physical blow, making her cold, damp skin prickle. She stepped out, dripping water onto the marble floor. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± . . . Chapter 203 Chapter 203: A voice from the living room. Not Grayson. Kaiden. He was sitting on the white leather sofa, surrounded by video game controllers, wearing pajamas that looked brand new. He looked up as she walked in, his face twisting into a scowl. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he demanded. ¡°Mommy Belle said this is our house now. You¡¯re not allowed.¡± Isolde stopped, leaning against the wall for support. The fever was still simmering beneath her skin, and the room tilted slightly. ¡°I came for my books, Kaiden,¡± she said. ¡°Where is your father?¡± ¡°Sleeping,¡± Kaiden said, turning back to his game. ¡°He said not to disturb him. You should leave. You¡¯re getting the floor wet.¡± She ignored him and walked toward the hallway leading to the study. Kaiden leapt off the sofa and ran in front of her, nting himself in the middle of the hallway. R§Ö???? §àn ????? d??????c?? §à?? ??§Ñl??o????????.§ã§à?? ¡°No!¡± he shouted. ¡°You can¡¯t go in there! Mommy Belle told me you¡¯re a bad person! She said you want to steal Daddy¡¯spany and make us poor!¡± Isolde looked down at this child. The boy she had nursed through chickenpox. The boy she had read to every night, whose nightmares she had soothed in the dark. He was a vessel, filled to the brim with Belle¡¯s poison. ¡°Kaiden, move,¡± she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. ¡°I¡¯m not stealing anything. I¡¯m taking what¡¯s mine.¡± ¡°Liar!¡± He shoved her with both hands. She wasn¡¯t expecting it. She was weak, off-bnce. She stumbled back, her shoulder striking the wall hard. Her injured right arm mmed against the doorframe. A bolt of white-hot pain shot up her arm and exploded behind her eyes. She gasped and doubled over, the agony blinding. Beneath the ster of the cast, she felt a sickening crack. ¡°Kaiden,¡± she wheezed, clutching her arm. He stood there, chest heaving, his eyes wide and wild. He didn¡¯t look like a child. He looked like a miniature Grayson, fueled by a narrative of betrayal he couldn¡¯t possibly understand. She pushed past him, fighting the nausea, and stumbled into the study. It was in disarray. Papers everywhere. Blueprints unrolled across every surface. She crossed to the wall safe behind the painting and prayed the code hadn¡¯t changed. 0-5-0-5. Effie¡¯s birthday. The light turned green. Grayson was arrogant andzy ¡ª it would never have urred to him that she¡¯d daree back. She pulled the heavy door open. There they were. Her leather-bound sketchbooks. She reached for them. ¡°Put them back!¡± Kaiden appeared in the doorway. He rushed at her, grabbing at her coat. She turned to shield the books. He mmed into her legs. Her grip loosened. One of the books tumbled onto the plush carpet. ¡°It¡¯s Daddy¡¯s!¡± Kaiden yelled, diving for it. ¡°No!¡± she shouted. ¡°Don¡¯t touch it!¡± She lunged for the sketchbook, but the pain in her arm made her slow. Kaiden kicked it hard. It skittered across the floor and disappeared beneath the heavy oak desk. ¡°I hate you!¡± Kaiden screamed. ¡°I hate you and I hate Effie!¡± . . . Chapter 204 Chapter 204: He looked around for something else to destroy. His eyesnded on the desk. Sitting there, in a ce of honor she had cleared for it months ago, was a model airne ¡ª hand-carved balsa wood, delicate and beautiful, with the words To my Star painted on the wing. She had spent weeks making it for Effie. Kaiden grabbed it. ¡°No,¡± she whispered. ¡°Kaiden, please. That¡¯s for your sister.¡± He held it up, a cruel grin spreading across his face. ¡°Effie is stupid. She doesn¡¯t need toys.¡± He threw it ¡ª not dropped it, but hurled it with force against the hardwood floor. ?????????? yo???? ????????????t???? ???????? ??a????????e????.§ã??m Crack. The sound was sickening. The delicate wings snapped. The fusge splintered into pieces. She stared at the wreckage. Something inside her chest mirrored that sound. Not a snap ¡ª a quiet, final disintegration. Thest thread of obligation. Thest memory of his small hand in hers. Thest hope that he might yet be saved from his parents¡¯ influence. Gone. Kaiden stomped on the pieces. ¡°Stupid! Ugly!¡± She stood up slowly. The room was silent except for his ragged breathing and the sound of wood crunching under his sneaker. She didn¡¯t yell. She didn¡¯t cry. She looked at him ¡ª really looked at him. She saw the shape of his eyes, Belle¡¯s eyes. She saw the curl of his lip, Grayson¡¯s lip. ¡°You are just like them,¡± she said. Her voice was stripped of all feeling. It was dead. Kaiden stopped stomping. He stared at her, thrown by herck of reaction. He had expected screaming. He had expected pleading. He didn¡¯t know what to do with ice. She knelt and reached under the desk to retrieve the fallen sketchbook. She clutched it and the others to her chest. She walked to the pile of splinters that had been abor of love, and stepped over them. ¡°Tell your father,¡± she said, without looking back, ¡°that this was thest time he will underestimate me.¡± She walked out of the study. She passed Kaiden, who had ttened himself against the wall, sensing a shift in the atmosphere he couldn¡¯t name. She walked into the elevator. As the doors closed, she heard it begin ¡ª a wail rising from the apartment. Fake, theatrical, designed to summon sympathy. She leaned her head against the cool metal wall. The elevator descended. Her vision began to tunnel. ck spots bloomed at the edges. The fever, reignited by the stress and the pain, was consuming her from the inside. Just get to the car, she told herself. Just get to the car. The doors opened. She stumbled into the lobby. Ralph said something, but his voice reached her as though through water. She pushed through the doors into the rain. She made it to the car. She wrenched the door open and copsed into the driver¡¯s seat. She tried to fit the key into the ignition. Her hand wouldn¡¯t obey. It fell to herp. The darkness rushed in from all sides. Effie, she thought. And then, nothing. ¡°Isolde!¡± . . . Chapter 205 Chapter 205: The voice came from a great distance. Someone was shaking her. She opened her eyes. The world was blurry and wet. Rain was hitting her face through the open car door. Grayson was leaning over her, soaked through, his hair stered to his forehead, his eyes wide with a frantic energy she hadn¡¯t seen in years. ¡°Isolde, wake up! Ralph called me. He said you copsed.¡± She tried to sit up, but her body felt like lead. ¡°The books,¡± she mumbled, clutching the sketchbooks on herp. ¡°Forget the books!¡± Grayson shouted. He scooped her up into his arms. ¡°You¡¯re burning up. Jesus, you¡¯re on fire.¡± He carried her toward his Bentley, pulled up at the curb. ¡°Open the door!¡± he called to Ralph. He ced her in the backseat. It was warm. Leather. ¡°I¡¯m taking you to the hospital,¡± Grayson said, climbing in beside her. ¡°Driver ¡ª Mount Sinai. Now.¡± D??w????§à??d????l?? P?????? ???? ????l??o???????.?????? For just a moment, a wave of relief moved through her. He was here. He was taking care of her. The old instinct ¡ª the one that had kept her in this marriage for five years ¡ª flickered to life. Then his phone rang. He froze. He looked at the screen. ¡°Answer it,¡± she whispered, her voice a rasp. ¡°It¡¯s her, isn¡¯t it?¡± He hesitated, then pressed the button. ¡°Belle? I can¡¯t talk right now, Isolde is ¡ª¡± ¡°Gray!¡± Belle¡¯s voice shrieked through the speaker. ¡°Kaiden is hysterical! He¡¯s shaking! He says she hit him! She came in here like a crazy woman and started smashing things! He says she threatened him, Gray! He¡¯s terrified!¡± Grayson looked at her ¡ª at her pale face, her broken arm, her shivering body. Then he looked at the phone. His jaw tightened. It wasn¡¯t a choice between love and duty. It was a choice between a medical emergency she was already in and a public rtions crisis Belle was manufacturing. He chose damage control. ¡°Is he hurt?¡± Grayson asked, his voice clipped. ¡°He¡¯s traumatized!¡± Belle sobbed. ¡°Pleasee back up! I can¡¯t calm him down!¡± Grayson closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He looked at her ¡ª a flicker of something crossing his face, regret or frustration or both. ¡°Isolde¡­¡± But she was already shaking her head. The fever had burned away thest of her illusions. She wasn¡¯t his wife. She was a problem to be managed. ¡°Get out,¡± she whispered. Weak, but absolute. ¡°What? I¡¯m taking you to the hospital.¡± ¡°No,¡± she said, holding his gaze. ¡°You¡¯re going to go upstairs and soothe your mistress and her son. That¡¯s your choice. So get out of my car.¡± He stared at her, stunned into silence. He opened his mouth to argue, but something in her expression stopped him. He reached for his suit jacket and moved to drape it over her. She raised her bandaged hand. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± The rejection hung in the air, colder than the rain outside. He slowly drew the jacket back. He opened the door. . . . Chapter 206 Chapter 206: ¡°I¡¯ll call you from the hospital,¡± he said ¡ª a hollow promise offered to no one in particr. He stepped out into the rain. She watched him walk back into the tower. He had chosen the lie over the truth. He always would. She leaned forward, her head swimming. ?????????? §å§à??r ??????§à??????§Ö?? ??????m ??al?????????s.c??m ¡°Driver,¡± she said, drawing the words up from somewhere beneath the pain and the fever. ¡°Don¡¯t go to the hospital.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°Take me to Orbital Systems,¡± she said. ¡°Take me to And.¡± ¡°But Mr. Lancaster said ¡ª¡± ¡°Mr. Lancaster is no longer giving my orders,¡± she said. ¡°Drive.¡± Up in the penthouse, Grayson walked into the living room. Belle was on the sofa, clutching a theatrically sobbing Kaiden. ¡°Oh, Gray!¡± she cried. ¡°It was awful! She was like a monster!¡± Grayson looked around. The living room was pristine. ¡°Where did she smash things?¡± ¡°In the study!¡± Kaiden pointed. ¡°She broke Effie¡¯s stupid toy!¡± Grayson walked into the study. He saw the mess of splintered balsa wood scattered across the floor. He knelt down and picked up a piece. It was a wing. To my Star. Grayson stared at it. He knew this handwriting. He remembered Isolde at the kitchen table, brow furrowed in concentration, meticulously carving this for Effie. He looked at the break ¡ª clean and deliberate. This wasn¡¯t the result of a wild, fever-driven rage. This was intentional destruction. He stood, the fragment of wood pressing into his palm. He turned to the doorway, where Belle and Kaiden stood watching him with expectant expressions. ¡°She didn¡¯t break this,¡± Grayson said quietly. Belle faltered. ¡°She was out of her mind, Gray. The fever ¡ª¡± ¡°Kaiden,¡± Grayson said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. ¡°Did you break this?¡± Kaiden shrank back into Belle¡¯s arms. ¡°She¡¯s a witch! She tried to steal your books!¡± ¡°Did you break it?¡± Grayson roared. Kaiden burst into tears ¡ª real ones this time. ¡°Yes! I hate it! I hate her!¡± Grayson threw the wood onto the coffee table. It bounced and hit the floor. ¡°You are grounded,¡± Grayson said. ¡°No video games. No tablet. You don¡¯t leave this apartment for a month.¡± ¡°But Gray ¡ª¡± Belle started. ¡°And you.¡± He turned on her, his eyes cold. ¡°You let him lie to me? You called me down here, knowing my wife was unconscious in a car downstairs, to keep up this performance?¡± ¡°I was protecting him!¡± Belle cried. ¡°She scared him!¡± ¡°She¡¯s sick, Belle!¡± Grayson shouted. ¡°She needed a doctor, not a drama!¡± He pulled out his phone and dialed the driver. ¡°Where are you?¡± Grayson barked. ¡°Are you at Mount Sinai?¡± ¡°No, sir.¡± The driver¡¯s voice was careful, nervous. ¡°She refused. She insisted I take her to Orbital Systems.¡± ¡°Orbital?¡± Grayson went still. ¡°And Roth¡¯s office?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. We just arrived.¡± Grayson lowered the phone. She went to him. Of course she did. The one man who had never asked her to be smaller, quieter, or less brilliant. The one man who saw her as a mind to be valued rather than a problem to be managed. . . . Chapter 207 Chapter 207: A cold knot of something he refused to name tightened in his gut. She was floating. She was in a dark ocean, and the waves were crashing over her head. But the water wasn¡¯t cold. It was warm. ¡°Isolde.¡± A voice. Gentle. Solid. She opened her eyes. She was lying on a leather sofa, a soft wool nket tucked around her. The room was dim, lit only by the glow ofputer monitors disying orbital trajectories. ???????????? ????l??a??§Ö? §à?? ??§Ñ????o????????.c§à?? And was sitting on the floor beside her, a cool cloth in his hand. He dabbed her forehead. ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± he said softly. She tried to sit up. Her head spun, but the nausea had passed. ¡°Effie ¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯s here,¡± And said, nodding toward the corner. Through the ss wall of an adjoining office, Harper sat in an armchair reading aloud from a book. Effie was asleep on a cot, curled up like a kitten ¡ª safe and sound. ¡°I picked her up from the hotel as soon as your driver called,¡± Harper said through the open door, her voice a low murmur. ¡°She¡¯s safe.¡± Isolde looked at her daughter. Safe. Away from that house. Away from that poison. ¡°I got them,¡± she whispered to And, gesturing to the leather-bound sketchbooks on the coffee table. And¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°The originals?¡± She nodded. ¡°The source code. The proof.¡± ¡°You could have died getting these,¡± And said, his jaw tightening. ¡°When you stumbled in here ¡ª Isolde, your fever was 104.¡± ¡°I had to,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s not just about the engine anymore. It¡¯s about her.¡± She looked at Effie. ¡°It¡¯s about showing her that we don¡¯t let people steal our stars.¡± Effie stirred. She opened her eyes, found her mother, and scrambled off the cot. ¡°Mommy!¡± Isolde pulled Effie under the nket, holding her tight against her chest despite the pain in her arms. Effie smelled of strawberry shampoo and innocence. ¡°I had a bad dream,¡± Effie whispered. ¡°I dreamt the house was eating us.¡± ¡°The house can¡¯t eat us anymore,¡± Isolde said, pressing a kiss to the top of Effie¡¯s head. ¡°We aren¡¯t going back there.¡± ¡°Where will we live?¡± ¡°Anywhere we want,¡± Isolde said. ¡°Just us. We build our own house now.¡± Effie looked up at her with serious eyes. ¡°Okay. A round one. With a telescope on the roof.¡± The fever broke around 3 AM, but the fire inside her hadn¡¯t burned out ¡ª it had only just begun to consume the weakness in her blood. Isolde sat at the multi-screen workstation in And¡¯s privateb, wrapped tightly in a thick wool nket. Her face was pale, beads of cold sweat still clinging to her hairline, but her eyes were terrifyingly bright ¡ª lucid, sharp, burning with a manic focus. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the encrypted hard drive she had salvaged. With a steady hand, she plugged it into the main server tower. ¡°ess granted,¡± the system chimed softly. . . . Chapter 208 Chapter 208: Instantly, the wall of screens came alive. Cascades of data streams, fluid dynamics simtions, and intricate three-dimensional wireframes flooded the monitors, bathing the dimb in cool blue light. And, who had been reviewing files at his desk, stood and walked over to stand behind her. He watched the rotating model on the central screen, his eyes widening. ¡°Is this the prototype for the Phoenix-X7?¡± he asked, his voice hushed. Isolde nodded, her gaze fixed on the screen. ¡°Yes. What Belle stole from the safe was just the shell ¡ª the exterior design and the firstyer architecture. It looks impressive, but it¡¯s hollow.¡± She tapped a key, and the three-dimensional model peeled away its outeryers, revealing aplex, vein-likework of pipes and chambers beneath. ¡°The soul of the engine ¡ª the Thermal Fluid Cirction System ¡ª has been with me the whole time.¡± She pulled up a side-by-sideparison. On the left was her design. On the right was a rendering of the engine InnoTech had just teased in their press release. ¡°Look at their thermal dissipation specs,¡± Isolde said, pointing to the InnoTech diagram. ¡°They¡¯re using the legacy cooling solution. It works fine for standardmercial jets, but for a high-performance engine like the Phoenix, it¡¯s a death trap.¡± ????????? y§à???? ??§Ñ????r??????s ??????m ????l????v??l??.c???? ¡°How bad is it?¡± And asked. ¡°Catastrophic,¡± Isolde said. ¡°If they push that engine past 3,000 RPM, the heat won¡¯t vent fast enough. The pressure in thebustion chamber will spike, and the whole thing will explode.¡± Theb door slid open and Harper walked in, bncing a tray with a steaming mug of coffee and a ss of warm water with lemon. ¡°Coffee for the boss, hydration for the patient,¡± Harper said, setting the tray down. She nced at the simtion of the exploding engine on the screen. ¡°That looks nasty. So ¡ª are you going to warn them? Send a cease and desist?¡± Isolde took the ss of water, her fingers curling around the warmth. A cold, precise smile touched her lips. ¡°No,¡± she said softly. ¡°I¡¯m not going to say a word. I want them to release it. I want them to stand on a stage, smile for the cameras, and sign that multi-billion-dor contract with the Department of Defense.¡± Harper¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You¡¯re going to let them hang themselves.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to let them build the gallows, tie the knot, and step off the ledge,¡± Isolde corrected. ¡°Once the ink is dry on that contract, that¡¯s when we release the safety analysis. That¡¯s when we show the DOD that InnoTech sold them a bomb.¡± She set the water down and cracked her knuckles. Despite her injuries, her fingers began to move across the mechanical keyboard, the rhythmic cking sounding like gunfire in the quietb. ¡°What are you doing now?¡± And asked. ¡°Writing the obituary for InnoTech,¡± Isolde murmured, her eyes moving across the code. ¡°I¡¯m drafting an anonymous technical analysis report. It won¡¯t just expose their fatal w ¡ª it will simultaneously present the solution. SkyLine¡¯s proprietary thermal recycling loop.¡± . . . Chapter 209 Chapter 209: For the next hour, the only sound was the furious typing. Isolde wasn¡¯t just writing code. She was weaving a trap ¡ª outlining a system so superior, so mathematically precise, that when the Pentagon saw it, they wouldn¡¯t simply cancel InnoTech¡¯s contract. They would beg SkyLine to take over. And watched her profile, illuminated by the glow of the screens. He saw the exhaustion carved beneath her eyes, but he also saw a brilliance that took his breath away. It wasn¡¯t merely respect he felt. It was a profound, aching admiration. ¡°Rest a little, Isolde,¡± he said gently, resting a hand on the back of her chair. ¡°You¡¯re still running a fever.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not tired,¡± she replied without stopping. ¡°This feeling ¡ª I haven¡¯t felt it in years.¡± ¡°What feeling?¡± ¡°Control,¡± she whispered. ¡°The feeling of holding all the cards and crushing an opponent with nothing but intellect.¡± On the sofa nearby, Effie had woken up. She sat with her sketchbook on her knees, drawing with crayons, watching the way her mothermanded the room, the way the adults listened to her every word. ¡°Mommy looks like a superhero,¡± Effie said suddenly, her small voice cutting through the silence. Isolde paused. Her hands hovered over the keys. She turned the swivel chair around and looked at her daughter. The hardness in her eyes melted instantly, reced by a fierce, protective warmth. ¡°Mommy is a superhero,¡± Isolde said, smiling. ??e??d ????tho???? ??????§Örr??????i?????? ??? ??a??????????????.????m ¡°And you¡¯re fixing the bad red spots?¡± Effie asked, pointing to the screen where the simtion had shifted from angry red to a stable, pulsing blue. ¡°We fixed it, baby,¡± Isolde said. ¡°We fixed everything.¡± The work continued deep into the night. By the time Isolde hit the final key,piling the core code for SkyLine¡¯s bid, the moon was high and the city was silent. She closed theptop and let out a long, slow breath. It was done. The trap was set. Across the city, the atmosphere was very different. Grayson sat on the edge of the king-sized bed in the master bedroom. The room was perfectly silent, perfectly clean, and perfectly cold. He stared at the empty space where Isolde used to sleep ¡ª the sound of her breathing, the warmth of her body, the faint scent of vani on the pillow. Now the air conditioning hummed into a void. He couldn¡¯t sleep. The insomnia sat on his chest like a stone. He picked up his phone, the brightness stinging his tired eyes, and typed a message. His thumb hovered over the send button for a long moment before he pressed it. Grayson: Are you feeling any better? When are youing back? The house is too quiet. Back in theb, Isolde¡¯s phone buzzed on the desk. She nced at the notification. Grayson. She read the preview ¡ª When are youing back? ¡ª and her expression didn¡¯t change. No anger. No sadness. Just a hollow, settled indifference. She swiped left. Delete. Harper, zipping up her bag, noticed the screen. ¡°You¡¯re not going to reply?¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde said, setting the phone face-down on the desk. ¡°Why not?¡± Isolde looked at her own reflection in the ck mirror of the phone¡¯s screen. ¡°Because dead people don¡¯t text back.¡± ¡°Dead people?¡± Harper asked, confused. . . . Chapter 210 Chapter 210: ¡°That marriage is dead,¡± Isolde said tly. ¡°And to him, the Isolde he thought he could control is dead too.¡± And checked his watch and looked up from his tablet. ¡°There¡¯s an art exhibition today at the Met. Professor Nelson will be there ¡ª he¡¯s the keynote for the Symposium. It might be a good moment to be seen, before the storm hits.¡± Isolde looked down at her wrinkled clothes, then over at Effie, sleeping peacefully on the sofa. She thought about the years she had spent shrinking herself so Grayson¡¯s ego could fill the room. ¡°We¡¯ll go,¡± she said, her voice firm. ¡°I want Effie to see something beautiful. I want her to see the real world. And I want the world to see that I¡¯m still standing.¡± The gallery in Upper Manhattan was a temple of minimalist luxury ¡ª a pristine white void where the air felt expensive and the silence carried the weight of curated history. And had arranged for a stylist toe to the hotel. Isolde wore a sharp, tailored white pantsuit that radiated a cold, architectural power. Beside her, Effie looked like a miniature princess in a navy velvet dress, her small hand tucked firmly into Isolde¡¯s good one. They moved through the exhibits slowly. Isolde leaned down, whispering to Effie about theposition of andscape, exining how the light had been captured to create depth. Effie listened with wide, curious eyes, nodding as though she understood the very soul of the brushstrokes. ¡°That one is lying,¡± Effie said suddenly, pointing to a portrait of a smiling socialite. ¡°The colors are all messy and angry underneath.¡± ¡°Well, well.¡± A sharp, sneering voice cut through the quiet. ¡°If it isn¡¯t the formerdy of the house. I¡¯m surprised they let you in. Did you manage to scrape together enough for the entrance ticket, or are you still living off someone¡¯s charity?¡± Download PDFs free on Isolde stiffened. She turned slowly. Daron McKnight stood there, a ss of champagne in hand and a mocking smirk on his face ¡ª Grayson¡¯s most loyal subordinate and a devoted sycophant for Belle. Behind him, Grayson and Belle approached. Belle was draped over Grayson¡¯s arm like a trophy, wearing a vibrant red dress that demanded attention. Grayson looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes deeper than before, but his posture straightened the moment he saw Isolde. He looked her over, a flicker of relief crossing his face at her recovered appearance, though his words remained clipped. ¡°You¡¯re out of the hospital. Should you be running around so soon?¡± Isolde didn¡¯t even look at him. She turned back to her daughter. ¡°Come, Effie. Let¡¯s look at the pieces over there. The air is getting a bit thin here.¡± ¡°Wait a moment.¡± Belle stepped forward, blocking their path. She looked down at Effie with a sharine smile. ¡°Effie, you look adorable. It¡¯s such a shame about your mother¡¯s taste, though.¡± She eyed Isolde¡¯s white suit with a condescending tilt of her head. ¡°Is that from a few seasons ago? I suppose when you leave the Lancaster family, ¡®budget¡¯ bes your new favorite word.¡± . . . Chapter 211 Chapter 211: Daron let out a short, sharpugh. ¡°Consumer downgrading is a harsh reality, isn¡¯t it? From high fashion to¡­ whatever this is.¡± Effie¡¯s face flushed red. She stepped in front of Isolde, her small voice ringing out clearly. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to my Mommy like that! You¡¯re the one who looks messy!¡± Grayson¡¯s brow furrowed. He shot a warning look at Daron. ¡°Enough. Be quiet.¡± But Isolde had stopped listening. Her gaze had drifted past all of them to the center of the room, where a single blue and white porcin vase sat on a lit pedestal. Her heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. It was The Tear of Time ¡ª the final masterpiece created by her grandmother, Evelyn Carson. The piece that had been auctioned off to cover the family¡¯s debts during the bankruptcy years ago. Isolde had spent three years searching for it across every auction house in Europe. D??w????§à??d????l?? P?????? ???? ????l??o???????.?????? She walked toward it as if in a trance, her hand trembling slightly as she reached toward the ss casing. Belle noticed the shift in Isolde¡¯s energy immediately. She drifted over and peered at the vase with a bored expression that quickly curdled into a predatory grin. ¡°Oh, Gray, look! This is stunning. It would look perfect in our new foyer, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± Belle knew nothing about porcin. But she knew Isolde wanted it. And that was enough. Isolde turned, her eyes shing with a rare, cold fire. ¡°This is my grandmother¡¯s work, Belle. It is a family heirloom. You wouldn¡¯t understand its value if it hit you.¡± Belle arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s in a gallery, Isolde. That means it belongs to the highest bidder. Gray, you¡¯ll buy it for me, won¡¯t you? As a gift?¡± Grayson looked at the vase. Then he looked at Isolde ¡ª at the raw longing and desperation in her eyes. For a fleeting moment, he thought about buying it and handing it to her. A peace offering. A way to bridge the widening chasm between them. But Belle¡¯s grip on his arm tightened. ¡°It¡¯s to celebrate us winning the InnoTech project, remember?¡± she whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Daron chimed in from the sidelines, his voice smooth and oily. ¡°Come on, Grayson. Surely a Lancaster isn¡¯t going to let a simple vase go to someone else? Especially when Belle has her heart set on it.¡± The weight of the room, the pressure of his reputation, and Belle¡¯s clinging presence pressed down on him. Grayson looked away from Isolde¡¯s expression and nodded to the curator. ¡°We¡¯ll take it. Wrap it up.¡± The coldness that settled in Isolde¡¯s bones was absolute. He knew. He knew exactly what that vase meant to her, and he had trampled on it anyway ¡ª for the sake of his pride and his mistress. ¡°No,¡± Isolde said. Her voice cut through the air like a de. She reached into her clutch and produced a matte ck card ¡ª the corporate card And had given her, backed by the full weight of his empire. . . . Chapter 212 Chapter 212: Grayson¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Where did you get that? Did And give that to you?¡± Isolde lifted her chin, her gaze steady and unwavering. ¡°Where I got it is none of your business, Grayson. This is a public sale, and I¡¯m offering double whatever he just bid.¡± She took a step closer to him, the white of her suit zing under the gallery lights. ¡°This is an auction now. Do you really want to try to outspend me? Do you really want to see how far I¡¯ll go to take back what belongs to me?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pay double.¡± Isolde¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t loud, but it sliced through the hushed gallery like a scalpel. She held the matte ck card between her fingers and offered it to the curator with a steady hand. ?????? ??????? p??p????ar ???v§Ö???? ??n ??§Ñ??nov??l??.§ã§àm The curator blinked, his eyes darting from the card to Grayson, hisposure cracking at the sudden esction. The silence in the room was heavy and suffocating. Belle¡¯s smile froze on her face. It faltered for only a second before transforming into an expression of wounded innocence. She leaned into Grayson, her fingers trembling as she gripped his sleeve. ¡°Oh, Gray ¡ª I didn¡¯t realize Isolde wanted it this badly. Maybe I should just let it go, even though you said it was for our celebration¡­¡± Daron McKnight, standing just behind them, let out a sharp, ugly snort. ¡°Double? Isolde, are you sure that card isn¡¯t apany perk from And? Being a personal assistant certainly seems to pay well these days. Don¡¯t mistake a credit limit for real power.¡± A whisper of gossip rippled through the crowd. Eyes shifted between Isolde and And, heavy with spection. Isolde ignored Daron entirely. Her gaze, cold as flint, stayed fixed on Grayson. ¡°This is Evelyn Carson¡¯s final work,¡± she said, her voice vibrating with suppressed emotion. ¡°It belongs to the Carson family. It belongs to me.¡± Grayson stared at her. A sharp spike of irritation bloomed in his chest. She had never defied him like this in public. The woman who had once deferred to his every word was now standing against him, her chin tilted in open defiance. It felt like a betrayal. He opened his mouth to speak, but Belle beat him to it. ¡°But Gray promised,¡± she said softly, her voice pitched just loud enough for the onlookers to catch. ¡°And I truly feel a connection to Evelyn¡¯s soul through this piece. I understand her art in a way others don¡¯t.¡± She turned to the curator, her smile turning predatory. ¡°The Lancaster family offers three times the asking price.¡± Isolde¡¯s grip on the card tightened until her knuckles turned white. Three times. That was the limit of the liquid assets she could mobilize without touching the funds And had entrusted to her for the project. She couldn¡¯t ¡ª and wouldn¡¯t ¡ª misuse his trust for a personal battle. . . . Chapter 213 Chapter 213: She nced at And. He gave her a subtle, steady nod, signaling he was willing to back her to any amount. But Isolde slowly shook her head. This was her fight, and she wouldn¡¯t let And pay for her family¡¯s dignity. Grayson caught the silent exchange. To him, it looked like a disagreement between a patron and his charge. A cold, cruel resolve settled in his eyes. ¡°Four times,¡± Grayson said, his voice t and final. ¡°The vase goes to Belle.¡± The curator brought the gavel down with a sharp crack. ¡°Sold! To Mr. Lancaster for four times the asking price!¡± W??at ????§Ö????o??e i?? ??????????n?? §à?? g§Ñ??n??v??????.????m Daron began to p, slow and mocking. ¡°That¡¯s more like it. A counterfeit can never outbid the real deal.¡± Belle squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Grayson¡¯s neck and casting a triumphant nce at Isolde. ¡°Thank you for being so gracious, Isolde. I promise I¡¯ll take excellent care of it.¡± Bile rose in Isolde¡¯s throat. It wasn¡¯t merely the loss of the vase. It was the realization that Grayson was willing to spend a fortune trampling her grandmother¡¯s memory just to please a woman like Belle. Effie, sensing her mother¡¯s distress, reached up and hugged Isolde¡¯s leg tightly. ¡°Mommy,¡± she whispered, her small voice trembling. ¡°Can we go home now? I don¡¯t like it here.¡± Isolde drew a slow, deep breath. She crouched down, ignoring the dull ache in her wrist, and scooped Effie up into her arms. Then she stood ¡ª her spine rigid as iron. As she passed Grayson, she paused. Her voice dropped to a low, lethal whisper meant only for him. ¡°You will regret this.¡± Grayson watched her walk away, her head held high. The victory felt hollow ¡ª like swallowing stones. He looked at Belle¡¯s flushed, gleeful face as she loudly discussed where to disy her new trophy, and found that he didn¡¯t feel like a winner at all. Isolde stepped out of the gallery into the biting night air. The cold hit her face like a ssh of rity. And followed her out, his expression pained. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Sophia. I could have ¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± Isolde interrupted, her eyes catching the light of the streemps. ¡°Money can¡¯t buy back dignity. I¡¯ll get it back my own way.¡± Just then, a distinguished older gentleman in a bespoke charcoal suit hurried toward the gallery entrance. Isolde went still. She recognized him immediately ¡ª Nathaniel Cross, the original owner of the vase, and a long-time friend of her grandmother. Nathaniel stopped when he saw her. His eyes widened. ¡°You look just like her. Are you Evelyn¡¯s granddaughter?¡± Isolde gave a brief, polite nod. She wasn¡¯t in the mood for pleasantries. ¡°I am. Excuse me, Mr. Cross.¡± She turned and walked toward the parking lot, holding Effie close against her chest. Nathaniel Cross stood on the sidewalk and watched her go, a thoughtful, lingering look on his face, before he finally turned and pushed through the gallery doors. . . . Chapter 214 Chapter 214: Inside the gallery, the air was thick with expensive perfume and the quiet hum of high-stakes transactions. Grayson stood at the mahogany desk, his fountain pen hovering over the purchase agreement. Beside him, Belle was practically glowing, her fingers tracing the smooth, iridescent curves of the vase with possessive hunger. ¡°It¡¯s exquisite, Gray,¡± she whispered, her eyes shining with triumph. ¡°It will look perfect in the center of the grand foyer.¡± Grayson didn¡¯t answer. He pressed the nib to the paper, his signature sharp and decisive. ¡°A tragic beauty, isn¡¯t it?¡± The voice was aged, resonant, and weighted with quiet authority. Grayson looked up to see Nathaniel Cross making his way toward the disy stand. The legendary collector and art historian stopped a few feet away, his gaze fixed on The Tear of Time as though he were standing before a gravestone. He let out a long, heavy sigh. §âo????????r s?????????s ???? ??????n§à??????s.??§àm The curator immediately scurried forward, bowing slightly. ¡°Mr. Cross! What an honor. Are you here for the closing? This piece just sold for four times its estimated value.¡± Nathaniel didn¡¯t nce at the curator. His eyes remained on Grayson. ¡°Mr. Lancaster, do you have any idea what the story is behind that vase? Or is it merely a trophy to you?¡± Grayson set the pen down, his expression polite but guarded. ¡°It is a remarkable piece of craftsmanship, Mr. Cross. For a collector, that is usually enough.¡± Nathaniel shook his head slowly, a look of profound disappointment crossing his face. ¡°This was the final work of Evelyn Carson. She created it in the weeks following the discovery of her husband¡¯s infidelity, at the very moment her daughter¡¯spany was being dismantled by vultures. It was never meant to be a decoration. It was her Tear of Time ¡ª a symbol of rebirth after total destruction.¡± The surrounding crowd, previously buzzing with gossip, fell into sudden, heavy silence. ¡°More importantly,¡± Nathaniel continued, his voice hardening, ¡°Evelyn left a clear wish in her will. She wanted this vase to go to her granddaughter, Isolde. It was the only piece of her soul she wanted to pass down. Unfortunately, it was seized during the debt liquidation years ago.¡± Grayson¡¯s hand jerked, his fingers tightening around the pen. Isolde¡¯s grandmother. A dying wish. A cold realization washed over him, making the air in the room feel suddenly thin. He hadn¡¯t merely outbid a rival. He had publicly stripped Isolde of herst connection to her family¡¯s legacy ¡ª taken her grandmother¡¯s grief and turned it into a bauble for his mistress. He remembered the look in Isolde¡¯s eyes moments ago. It hadn¡¯t been anger. It was the look of someone watching a sacred grave being robbed. Belle, sensing the shift in Grayson¡¯s mood and the judgment pressing in from the room, tightened her grip on his arm. She gave a dismissive littleugh. ¡°Oh, please. It¡¯s art. Whoever pays for it owns it. If Isolde couldn¡¯t hold on to her own family¡¯s things back then, that speaks to her ownck of capability. You can¡¯t me Gray for having better taste ¡ª and a better bank ount.¡± Nathaniel Cross turned his gaze to Belle. It was a look of such icy disdain that she visibly flinched. . . . Chapter 215 Chapter 215: ¡°Youngdy,¡± he said softly, ¡°there are some things money simply cannot buy. ss and a sense of decency are chief among them.¡± Belle¡¯s face turned a violent shade of crimson. She gasped and looked at Grayson for support. ¡°Gray! Are you going to let him talk to me like that?¡± But Grayson didn¡¯t defend her. A suffocating pressure had settled in his chest. He looked at the vase again, and the blue ze no longer looked beautiful. It looked like a bruise ¡ª Isolde¡¯s shattered heart reflected in the ceramic. Daron, sensing the PR disaster taking shape, stepped in smoothly. ¡°Mr. Cross, business is business. Grayson¡¯s intentions were purely phnthropic. The proceeds go to charity, after all.¡± Nathaniel let out a sharp, humorless breath. ¡°I can only hope that such a masterpiece does not gather dust in hands too dirty to appreciate its meaning.¡± Without another word, he turned and walked out of the gallery. W?? ???????????? ?????????? ????§Ö?? ??? ????????o????l??.??§àm Grayson stared at the retreating figure, gripping the fountain pen so hard the casing groaned under the pressure. ¡°Gray?¡± Belle asked, her voice small and uncertain. ¡°Are we still buying it?¡± Grayson was silent for a long beat. The victory tasted like ash. But the eyes of the room were on him, and he couldn¡¯t retreat now. ¡°Yes,¡± he said, his voice like grinding stone. ¡°The bid is ced. We don¡¯t renege on a contract.¡± He scrawled the final flourish of his signature, but as he did, he felt as though he were signing a confession rather than a check. Meanwhile, in the parking lot, the atmosphere was entirely different. Isolde was carefully buckling Effie into her seat, her movements methodical and calm. And leaned against the car door, watching her closely. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Isolde paused. She wiped a single stray tear from the corner of her eye before it could fall, then drew a slow breath, her expression hardening into something imprable. ¡°I¡¯m fine. If anything, this has made things clearer. Grayson isn¡¯t just a bastard ¡ª he¡¯s a blind one. He has no idea what he¡¯s actually holding.¡± Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out expecting a message from the gallery, but it was a priority red-g alert from the CyberNet server farm. CRITICAL SYSTEM ANOMALY. SATELLITE ARRAY 4. URGENT INTERVENTION REQUIRED. Isolde¡¯s eyes sharpened instantly. The grief vanished, reced by a cold, predatory focus. The adrenaline hit her like a lightning strike. ¡°And, forget the house. Take me to CyberNet,¡± she said, her voice turning to steel. ¡°I have work to do.¡± And looked surprised. ¡°Now? Isolde, you¡¯ve had a hell of a day. You need to rest.¡± ¡°Work is the only thing I can truly control right now,¡± she replied, her gaze fixed on the alert scrolling across her screen. ¡°I¡¯m going to remind everyone ¡ª Grayson included ¡ª that I am far more than just a Lancaster ex-wife.¡± From the backseat, Effie pumped her small fist in the air. ¡°Go, Mommy! Beat the bad guys!¡± Isolde let out a short, genuineugh ¡ª the first of the day. ¡°That¡¯s the n, baby.¡± . . . Chapter 216 Chapter 216: As And¡¯s car pulled out of the parking lot and merged into traffic, Grayson¡¯s Bentley was just emerging from the gallery¡¯s valet. For a split second, the two vehicles were side by side. Grayson looked through the tinted ss and caught a glimpse of Isolde¡¯s profile. She wasn¡¯t crying. She looked like iron. She looked unbreakable. And as she sped away toward her own empire, Grayson felt a chill of genuine terror. The CyberNet headquarters loomed like a steel beast against the overcast sky, its ss fa?ade reflecting the gray clouds. Isolde stepped out of the car the moment it rolled to a halt, her movements sharp and decisive. And followed close behind, adjusting his cuffs. But before they could reach the revolving doors, a mocking voice cut through the humid air. ¡°Well, look who it is.¡± Isolde stopped. Standing near the entrance, chatting with a group of high-level executives, was Daron McKnight. He spotted them and detached himself from the group, sauntering over with a smirk that made her skin crawl. ??§às?? ???????? t??is ??§Ö§Ö?? o?? ??§Ñ??n??????l?.?????? ¡°And,¡± Daron drawled, his eyes sliding dismissively over Isolde. ¡°Bringing family to visit the server room? That¡¯s hardlypliant with protocol.¡± And¡¯s posture stiffened. ¡°Isolde is Orbital¡¯s Chief Tech Consultant. Watch your tone, Daron.¡± ¡°Tech Consultant?¡± Daron burst intoughter, loud enough to turn heads. ¡°Don¡¯t make meugh. Everyone knows she¡¯s just a vase ¡ª meant for disy, not for heavy lifting.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t wait for And to retort. She stepped forward, positioning herself directly in front of Daron, her entire presence shifting from calm to freezing cold. ¡°Daron,¡± she said, her voice steady and precise. ¡°If you spent half the time you use mocking others on InnoTech¡¯s R&D, maybe your new drone fleet wouldn¡¯t have disintegrated during the wind tunnel test three days ago.¡± Daron¡¯s smirk vanished instantly, reced by genuine shock. ¡°How ¡ª how do you know the test data? That¡¯s ssified.¡± Isolde let out a short, coldugh. ¡°Because it¡¯s a deduction based onmon sense. Just likemon sense tells me your current behavior qualifies as textbook workce harassment.¡± ¡°You ¡ª¡± ¡°Bad uncle!¡± A small voice rang out from the car. Effie had poked her head through the window, her face scrunched in outrage. ¡°Don¡¯t bully Mommy!¡± Daron opened his mouth to snap back ¡ª but a sleek ck sedan pulling up to the curb silenced him. The door opened and Grayson stepped out, looking impable but harried. The system failure alert had clearly pulled him from a meeting. He heard Effie¡¯s shout and frowned, his gaze moving between Daron and Isolde. ¡°What is going on here?¡± Daron¡¯s face transformed instantly, adopting a respectful, almost servile expression. ¡°Nothing, Grayson. Just saying hello to my ex-sister-inw.¡± Isolde looked at Grayson, her eyes devoid of warmth. ¡°Control your dog, Grayson.¡± Grayson¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Isolde, watch your manners. Show some breeding.¡± ¡°My manners are reserved for those who deserve them,¡± Isolde shot back. ¡°As for you ¡ª wait for thewyer¡¯s letter. And this time, it¡¯s real.¡± Grayson let out a scoff. ¡°Another divorce threat? Haven¡¯t you performed enough?¡± Isolde didn¡¯t dignify that with a response. She checked her watch and turned away. ¡°We¡¯rete, And. Manager Sullivan is waiting.¡± . . . Chapter 217 Chapter 217: ¡°Right,¡± And said, shooting a cold look at Daron before following her. Isolde strode toward the building, leaving Grayson staring at her retreating figure. He watched as she approached the security gates ¡ª expecting her to wait for And to sign her in. Instead, she pulled a badge from her pocket and swiped it. The gate beeped green. Grayson¡¯s eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion stirring in his chest. A Level 1 visitor pass. That clearance was restricted to top-tier engineers and board members. Inside the elevator, the doors slid shut, cutting off the noise of the lobby. And exhaled slowly. ¡°Are you sure you can handle Sullivan?¡± he asked, his voice low. ¡°That man is stubborn. He¡¯s notorious for looking down on female engineers.¡± Isolde adjusted her cor, her reflection in the polished metal doors showing a woman ready for war. ¡°In this industry, code is the onlynguage that matters,¡± she said calmly. ¡°As long as my code runs, he¡¯ll have to kneel and beg me ¡ª whether he looks down on me or not.¡± The elevator chimed and opened onto the top floor. The CyberNet control center was in absolute chaos. Red emergency lights pulsed in a slow, ominous rhythm, bathing the room in crimson. rms red from every direction. ??§ài?? §à??r §ã????m????????§å ???? g§Ñ???????el??.§ã???? Manager Sullivan stood in the center of the room, sweat beading on his forehead, shouting into a headset. ¡°Where is the Orbital team? Why aren¡¯t they here yet?!¡± Isolde walked straight up to him, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. ¡°I¡¯m here. Switch the terminal to me.¡± Sullivan spun around. His eyes widened when he saw her. He looked past her to And, incredulous. ¡°And, are you joking? We need an engineer, not a PR representative!¡± Isolde didn¡¯t waste a second on argument. She stepped past a stunned operator and dropped into the main terminal chair. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a fraction of a second before descending in a blur. ¡°Satellite attitude control is lost,¡± she announced, her voice cutting clean through the panic. ¡°Gyroscope data is overflowing. This is a ssic deadlock.¡± She typed furiously, lines of code cascading down the screen like a digital waterfall. ¡°If I don¡¯t reset the kernel immediately, we collide with the space station in three minutes.¡± Sullivan stared at the screen, watching the technicalmands roll off her fingers with terrifying precision. ¡°You ¡ª do you even know what you¡¯re doing?¡± Isolde didn¡¯t turn her head. Her eyes were locked on the data stream, her reflection shifting in the monitor¡¯s glow. ¡°I¡¯m saving your lives,¡± she said. ¡°Now shut up and watch.¡± The observation deck was separated from the control floor by a wall of soundproof ss. Grayson and Daron stood there, watching. ¡°She¡¯s faking it,¡± Daron muttered, though he sounded less certain than usual. ¡°She¡¯s just mashing keys. And probably set up a script for her to run.¡± Grayson didn¡¯t answer. He watched Isolde¡¯s hands. . . . Chapter 218 Chapter 218: He knew those hands. He knew the way they looked foldingundry, chopping vegetables, soothing a feverish child. But he had never seen them move like this. They were a blur ¡ª a violent, beautifulpetence he couldn¡¯t reconcile with the woman who used to ask him to reset the router. On the massive main screen, the wireframe model of the satellite tumbled wildly out of control. Isolde typed a final string ofmands. She hit Enter with a sharp crack. KERNEL RESET. STABILIZATION PROTOCOL ENGAGED. The red lights on the console flickered and turned amber. Then, one by one, they shifted to a solid, calming green. On the screen, the satellite¡¯s thrusters fired in short, precise bursts. The tumbling slowed. Stopped. The array locked back onto the horizon. SIGNAL RESTORED. A cheer went up from the technicians on the floor. Sullivan was staring at Isolde with his mouth open, the expression of a man who had just witnessed something he couldn¡¯t categorize. ????????? ??o??r t?????????????? o?? ??a??n§àv??????.c§à?? ¡°How?¡± Sullivan asked. ¡°Thetency ¡ª that should have been impossible.¡± Isolde stood and rolled her shoulders, wincing slightly as her injured arm protested. ¡°I switched to fuzzy logic control. The binary inputs were too slow for the drift rate.¡± She turned and looked up at the observation deck. She looked directly at Grayson. She didn¡¯t smile. She just held his gaze, her expression unreadable. Grayson felt a chill move down his spine. She wasn¡¯t merelypetent. She was elite. And she had concealed it from him for five years. Or perhaps she hadn¡¯t concealed it at all. Perhaps he had simply never looked. Isolde walked out of the control room. Grayson met her in the hallway. ¡°Isolde,¡± he said, his voice rough. ¡°The way you were typing ¡ª the system architecture ¡ª¡± He paused, the weight of the realizationnding slowly. ¡°Sophia? It was you, all along?¡± ¡°I¡¯m busy,¡± she said, walking past him. He reached for her arm ¡ª gently this time, but firmly. ¡°The ISSDC. The Valkyrie simtions. It was you.¡± She pulled her arm free and brushed off her sleeve where he had touched it. ¡°You had five years to see who I really was, Grayson. You chose not to look. That¡¯s on you.¡± Grayson flinched. ¡°What does that mean?¡± ¡°It means I¡¯m done ying small,¡± she said ¡ª quiet, final, absolute. ¡°You surrounded yourself with yes-men and trophies. I¡¯m neither.¡± Daron appeared behind Grayson, looking flushed. ¡°It was a trick. I¡¯m going to check the logs. And was remote essing ¡ª I¡¯d bet on it.¡± Isolde stopped. She turned and looked at Daron with something close to pity. ¡°Check the logs, Daron. Please. Do your due diligence.¡± She turned on her heel and walked away, the click of her heels echoing down the corridor like gunshots. Grayson stared after her. Then he turned to Daron, his voice tight. ¡°Do it. Check them now.¡± He followed Daron not to the control room but to a system administrator¡¯s terminal in a quiet side office. Daron¡¯s fingers fumbled as he pulled up the root ess logs for thest ten minutes. The screen filled with dense lines of text. Grayson leaned closer, his breath fogging the ss. . . . Chapter 219 Chapter 219: And there it was ¡ª a single line, stark and undeniable, appended to the emergency patch that had just saved his multimillion-dor asset. // STABILITY FIX // SIG: SOPHIA Sophia. The name of the phantom engineer who had humiliated his team at the ISSDC. The ghost in the machine. It was her. It had been her all along. Three dayster, the city was buzzing with news of the CyberNet project¡¯s sess. A grand celebration banquet was being held at the finest hotel in the city center, champagne flowing and cameras shing. But Isolde was nowhere near it. She sat on the plush rug of the Tribeca apartment, the afternoon sun casting long, warm shadows across the floor. Effiey on her stomach nearby, tongue poking out in concentration as she colored a picture of a garden. The silence was peaceful ¡ª a stark contrast to the glitz and noise filling the banquet hall across town. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, shattering the calm. ???????????????? ???????????? ???? ??????????????????.?????? It was a text from Harper. Harper: Don¡¯t look at Instagram. Seriously. Don¡¯t. Isolde frowned. Harper knew her too well ¡ª telling her not to look was the surest way to make her look. She picked up the phone and opened the app. Harper had sent a screenshot. Isolde tapped it, and as the image filled the screen, her blood ran cold. It was a screenshot of Belle¡¯stest Story. The photo was taken in the foyer of the Lancaster penthouse ¡ª a space Isolde knew intimately. But her eyes didn¡¯t linger on the marble floors or the gilded mirror. They fixed, horrified, on the object sitting casually near the door. It was The Tear of Time. Evelyn Carson¡¯s soul work. A ceramic masterpiece that had been exhibited in Paris ¡ª a vessel of delicate, mncholic beauty that Isolde had cherished more than almost anything she owned. She had been unable to retrieve it when she left, assuming Grayson would at least have the decency to keep it in the disy cab. Instead, the priceless antique was sitting on a dirty floor mat. Sticking out of its delicate, tapered neck were three dripping, long-handled ck umbres. Isolde zoomed in, her breath catching. The water from the umbre handles had pooled at the rim, darkening the ceramic. And there, at the lip of the vase, was a jagged hairline crack ¡ª evidence that someone had forced a handle into the fragile opening. The caption oveid on the photo read: New umbre stand! So chic. #FengShui Isolde¡¯s hand began to tremble. Rage ¡ª white-hot and blinding ¡ª flooded her veins. That vase was the culmination of Evelyn¡¯s life¡¯s work, a symbol of artistic integrity and grace. And Belle was using it as a bucket for wet umbres. She dialed Grayson¡¯s number. It rang three times. Grayson was in the middle of a high-level strategy meeting when his phone vibrated. He nced at the screen, saw Isolde¡¯s name, and hesitated. The room went quiet, waiting for him. With a frown, he signaled for a pause and answered. ¡°What is it?¡± His voice was low, impatient. . . . Chapter 220 Chapter 220: ¡°Is this what you meant?¡± Isolde¡¯s voice was raspy, shaking with suppressed fury. ¡°Is this what you meant when you said Belle knows how to appreciate things? Using an antique vase as a damn umbre stand?¡± Grayson stepped away from the conference table, frowning. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°Look at Belle¡¯s social media,¡± Isolde hissed. ¡°Grayson, if you have even a shred of conscience left ¡ª if you have any respect for art or history ¡ª you will give that vase back to me. Now.¡± She hung up before he could respond. Grayson stared at the phone for a moment, then opened Instagram. He tapped on Belle¡¯s Story. ???????l??????a?????? ??D???? o?? ??al?????e????.§ã???? When the image loaded, he froze. The Tear of Time. He knew its value ¡ª not just the name, but the craftsmanship, appraised at a fortune by experts worldwide. And there it sat, stuffed with wet umbres like a stic bin from a dor store. It was a desecration. A wave of embarrassment moved through him. This was the woman standing beside him? Later that evening, when Grayson returned to the penthouse, the first thing he saw was the vase ¡ª still in the foyer. He walked over and looked inside. A pool of dirty rainwater had gathered at the bottom. He ran his finger along the rim and felt the sharp edge of the crack. ¡°Belle,¡± he called, his voice cold. Belle came out of the living room in a silk robe, smiling brightly. ¡°You¡¯re home early! Did you see my post? It¡¯s getting so many likes.¡± ¡°What is this?¡± Grayson gestured to the vase. Belle blinked, looking innocent. ¡°The umbre stand? I found it in the storage room. It was just gathering dust. The size was perfect for the umbres, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°It¡¯s cracked,¡± Grayson said, pointing to the damage. ¡°Oh, that.¡± Belle waved her hand dismissively. ¡°One of the umbres was a bit tight. I had to push it in. It¡¯s just a little crack, Grayson. Nobody looks that closely at an umbre stand.¡± Grayson looked at her ¡ª really looked at her. For a moment, all he felt was a surge of revulsion. She was beautiful, yes. But she was shallow. Willfully ignorant. He wanted to yell. He wanted to throw the umbres across the room. But he stopped himself. Just that morning, Belle had handed him a contract for a new overseas channel, iming she had charmed the investors. He didn¡¯t know that those investors were contacts Isolde had spent years cultivating, that the road had been paved long before Belle had ever set foot in his world. He couldn¡¯t afford to alienate her. Not yet. His phone buzzed again. Isolde. He stared at the screen, then looked back at the cracked vase. A dark, pragmatic thought formed in his mind. He answered. ¡°Grayson,¡± Isolde¡¯s voice was steel now. ¡°I want that vase.¡± ¡°I see it,¡± Grayson said, turning his back on Belle. ¡°It¡¯s damaged.¡± ¡°I know!¡± Isolde¡¯s voice broke. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m taking it back before she turns it into a trash can!¡± ¡°You can have it back,¡± Grayson said slowly. ¡°But I have a condition.¡± . . . Chapter 221 Chapter 221: On the other end of the line, Isolde went silent for a beat. ¡°Speak.¡± ¡°I have a business trip to San Francisco this weekend. I¡¯m taking Belle with me,¡± Grayson said, watching Kaiden tear down the hall screaming and hurling a toy car at the wall. ¡°The nanny quit this morning. Kaiden needs someone.¡± Isolde¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°And?¡± ¡°The agency can¡¯t send a recement until Monday,¡± Grayson said, his voice devoid of any feeling. ¡°Youe to the penthouse. You watch Kaiden for two days. You do that, and the vase is yours.¡± ¡°You ¡ª¡± Isolde choked on the words, disbelief saturating every syble. ¡°You want me to babysit your mistress¡¯s child? The child of the woman who destroyed my home? Just to get back my own property?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a trade, Isolde,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Kaiden seems to listen to you. Or at least, you¡¯re the only one he hasn¡¯t bitten.¡± It was a lie. Kaiden listened to no one. Grayson simply needed a body in the house, and he knew Isolde was desperate enough. A????????t??v?? ?????r????? ???? ????l?o??§Ö???.§ã§àm ¡°That is my grandmother¡¯s legacy,¡± Isolde whispered, her voice trembling with humiliation. ¡°Then earn it,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Friday night. Be here.¡± Isolde gripped the phone until her knuckles turned white. She looked at Effie, still coloring innocently across the room. She thought of The Tear of Time sitting in that foyer, filled with dirty water, cracking under the pressure of careless hands. It was her dignity against her grandmother¡¯s soul. Tears pricked her eyes, hot and stinging. She closed them, and let a single tear slide down her cheek. ¡°Fine,¡± she whispered. The word tasted like ash. ¡°Deal. But I only want the vase. Not a cent of your money.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Grayson said, and hung up. Isolde lowered the phone, feeling a hollow ache settle in her chest. She was going back to the penthouse ¡ª not as the mistress of the house, but as a servant to the woman who had reced her. But for the vase. For Evelyn. She would walk through fire. Even if that fire was named Kaiden. Friday evening, the sky over the city was a bruised purple as Isolde drove to the entrance of Lancaster Tower. She didn¡¯t hand her keys to the valet. She parked in a visitor¡¯s spot herself. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. She had deliberately changed out of her sharp office attire. She wore faded jeans and a loose gray sweater that had seen better days. If they wanted to treat her like a servant, she would dress the part. She wasn¡¯t here as the mistress of the house, nor as a high-powered executive. She was here as the help. When the elevator doors opened onto the penthouse foyer, the scene that greeted her was one of chaotic luxury. Open suitcases were scattered across the marble floor, overflowing with silk and linen. . . . Chapter 222 Chapter 222: Belle stood amidst the luggage as though she had stepped out of a travel magazine ¡ª a flowing floral resort dress, a wide-brimmed hat already perched on her head. Grayson stood nearby checking his phone, looking impatient. ¡°Oh, Isolde!¡± Belle eximed, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. ¡°You¡¯re finally here. I¡¯m so sorry to trouble you like this. You know how it is ¡ª Kaiden has been a little spiritedtely.¡± Isolde didn¡¯t nce at Belle¡¯s perfectly made-up face. Her expression was t, her eyes cold. ¡°Where is the vase?¡± Grayson looked up, gesturing vaguely toward the corner of the living room. ¡°It¡¯s over there. As we agreed, you can take it when you leave Sunday night.¡± Isolde walked past them, her sneakers silent on the expensive rug. She approached the pedestal where the antique vase stood ¡ª and leaned in close, her breath catching. The cracks were painfully obvious. Spiderweb fractures ran along the delicate porcin neck, hastily glued back together but forever marred. It was like looking at her own heart. The pain was sharp and suffocating, but she forced it down. ??ea?? ?????? ??????e??? ??r??n??s §à? g????n??ve??s.?????? ¡°Hey!¡± Before she could turn, a stream of cold water hit her square in the face. Isolde gasped. Water dripped from her eyshes and down her nose. She wiped her eyes and found Kaiden standing behind the sofa, arge neon-colored Super Soaker in his hands, grinning maliciously. ¡°Look at the drowned rat!¡± Kaiden shrieked, jumping up and down. ¡°Ugly! You look so ugly!¡± Belle let out a small, tinkling giggle before covering her mouth with a manicured hand. ¡°Oh, Kaiden ¡ª you really shouldn¡¯t do that to Auntie Isolde.¡± There was no real reprimand in her voice. Only amusement. Isolde stood motionless, water dripping from her chin onto her old sweater. She looked at Grayson. He was frowning ¡ª not at his son, but at his watch. ¡°We¡¯re going to bete for the flight,¡± Grayson muttered, entirely ignoring the fact that his ex-wife had just been doused in his living room. Isolde wiped her face with her sleeve, her movements slow and deliberate. She turned her gaze on them both ¡ª her eyes dark, hollow voids. ¡°Get out,¡± she said softly. Then louder, her voice cutting through the room like a whip: ¡°Get out. Now.¡± Grayson paused, his hand on the handle of his suitcase. He looked as though he wanted to say something ¡ª a defense, perhaps, or a warning ¡ª but the look in Isolde¡¯s eyes stopped him. He shook his head, took Belle¡¯s hand, and pulled her toward the elevator. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Belle.¡± The doors slid shut. The moment the mechanism clicked, the penthouse fell into heavy silence, broken only by Kaiden¡¯s snickering. Isolde didn¡¯t move for a long moment. Then she turned slowly to face the boy. ¡°Listen to me,¡± she said, her voice stripped of the warmth she had once given him freely. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to call me Mom. For this weekend, we stay out of each other¡¯s way. You do your thing, I do mine.¡± Kaiden stuck out his tongue and made a grotesque face. ¡°This is my house! I can do whatever I want!¡± . . . Chapter 223 Chapter 223: He sprinted into the living room, grabbed a bag of chips from the coffee table, and shook it violently, sending crumbs flying across the pristine carpet like confetti. Then he leaped onto the beige sofa and began jumping with his shoes on, screaming incoherently. Isolde didn¡¯t yell. She didn¡¯t rush to stop him. She didn¡¯t clean up a single crumb. She walked calmly to the vase, lifted it with great care, and carried it into the guest bedroom. She set it gently on the bedside table, walked out, and locked the door behind her with the key she had kept on her ring. Then she sat down at the dining table, opened herptop, and began to work. She wasn¡¯t here to parent him. She wasn¡¯t here to be the maid. She was here for the vase. Time passed. The sun set. The room grew dark until the automatic lights flickered on. Kaiden, realizing his audience wasn¡¯t reacting, eventually grew bored of his destruction. He stomped over to the dining table and mmed his hand down beside Isolde¡¯sptop. ¡°I¡¯m hungry!¡± he demanded. ¡°Make me pasta! The kind with the white sauce!¡± Isolde didn¡¯t look up from her screen. ¡°There¡¯s pizza in the freezer. You can heat it up yourself.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t eat frozen food!¡± Kaiden screamed, his face turning red. ¡°I want fresh pasta! Make it now!¡± Isolde looked at him. Her gaze was calm, almost bored. ¡°Then you can starve.¡± Kaiden froze. His mouth fell open. In the past, a single tear from him would have sent Isolde rushing to the kitchen. He blinked, unsure how to process this new reality. ??§àw???o???????????? §âDF? ???? ????????????e????.?????? ¡°I¡¯m going to tell Dad!¡± he threatened, his voice climbing to a shrill pitch. ¡°I¡¯ll tell him you¡¯re abusing me!¡± Isolde let out a short, dryugh. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. ¡°Go ahead,¡± she said. ¡°Call him. Tell him everything. And while you¡¯re at it, tell him I quit. But tell him I¡¯m taking the vase with me.¡± Kaiden stared at her, small fists clenched at his sides. He couldn¡¯t understand it. The woman who used to read him bedtime stories, who used to bandage his scraped knees with such tenderness, was looking at him as though he were aplete stranger. He didn¡¯t know what to do. His power over her was gone. Isolde turned back to herputer. She reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of noise-canceling headphones, slid them over her ears, and the sound of Kaiden¡¯s frustrated screaming was instantly reced by silence. The world was finally quiet. But as she stared at the spreadsheet on her screen, the numbers blurred. Her chest felt like the vase in the other room ¡ª cracked, glued back together, but fundamentally broken. The boy standing behind her, screaming for attention, was the child she had once raised as her own. And he was ruined. Thoroughly, tragically ruined. Saturday morning sunlight spilled into the penthouse, illuminating a scene of absolute chaos. Toys were scattered across the Persian rugs, cushions had been thrown from the sofas, and sticky juice stains marred the ss coffee table. It looked as though a hurricane had swept through the living room. . . . Chapter 224 Chapter 224: Isolde walked through the wreckage, her gaze passing over the disorder without a flicker of emotion. A year ago she would have been on her knees scrubbing, desperate to maintain the illusion of a perfect home. Today, she simply stepped over a stic truck and headed for the balcony. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Professor Eldridge Nelson. She slid the door open, stepped out into the cool morning air, and answered. ¡°Professor?¡± ¡°Sophia,¡± Nelson¡¯s voice came through warm and energetic, using the name she hadn¡¯t heard in years ¡ª her middle name, the one she used on her academic papers. ¡°I heard a rumor that you secured the Orbital project?¡± Isolde leaned against the railing, looking out at the city skyline. ¡°Yes, Professor. Though I¡¯m currently trapped in some domestic trivialities.¡± ¡°Trivialities?¡± Nelson scoffed gently. ¡°Don¡¯t let trivialities bury your talent. The Institute isunching a new initiative ¡ª a deep-space habitat project. We need a lead architect. Someone who understands that a structure is a vessel for life, not just a metal box. I want you, Sophia.¡± Isolde¡¯s heart skipped a beat. The wind lifted the hair from her face, and for a moment she felt lighter. ¡°Professor, I¡¯m ttered. But my current situation ¡ª my life is a bit of a mess.¡± ¡°Status is what you define it to be,¡± Nelson interrupted firmly. ¡°You are Isolde Carson. You are Sophia. Don¡¯t let a man ¡ª or his family ¡ª define your trajectory. You are a star, my dear. Burn bright.¡± Isolde gripped the phone tighter. The words struck something deep within her, resonating in the hollow spaces where her patience used to be. ?ha??§Ö §å??u?? ????v????????§Ö?? ????o?? ??§Ñ??????v????s.§ã??m ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. Thank you, Professor.¡± She hung up and stood staring at the horizon. The smog had cleared, leaving the sky a piercing, limitless blue. A spark of hope, long dormant, began to kindle in her chest. She wasn¡¯t just a discarded wife or a failing stepmother. She was an architect of the future. She turned back to the living room, her resolve hardening ¡ª and noticed the silence. It was sudden and suspicious. Kaiden was gone. Isolde frowned. She didn¡¯t want to care, but her agreement with Grayson required her to keep the boy alive. She walked down the hallway, checking the rooms, until she reached the study. The door was ajar. Inside, Kaiden sat cross-legged on the floor, a pair of sharp scissors in his hand, furiously hacking away at a bundle of soft blue fabric. Isolde froze. It was a sweater. Not just any sweater ¡ª the one she had knitted three years ago, back when she was pregnant with Effie. She remembered the long nights, her back aching, her fingers swollen, knitting every loop like a quiet prayer for the daughter she would eventually lose. She had kept it in a cedar chest, a memory of love and grief. Now ity in tatters on the floor. Blue yarn covered the carpet like severed veins. ¡°None of it stays!¡± Kaiden muttered, snipping a sleeve into ribbons. ¡°Mommy Belle said these are all trash! Trash!¡± Isolde watched him, her face unreadable. A strange calm washed over her ¡ª no anger, no impulse to scream, only a quiet, icy rity. . . . Chapter 225 Chapter 225: Kaiden looked up, breathless, waiting for the explosion. When Isolde didn¡¯t move, he snipped the scissors in the air, his eyes wild with a bratty challenge. ¡°Aren¡¯t you mad? Why aren¡¯t you yelling? Look ¡ª I ruined it!¡± Isolde looked at the pile of blue wool, then met the boy¡¯s gaze. Her voice was soft and devoid of warmth. ¡°Why should I be mad?¡± she asked. ¡°That sweater was knitted for my child.¡± She took a step back, her expression indifferent. ¡°And you are not my child.¡± Kaiden froze. The scissors slipped from his fingers and ttered onto the hardwood floor. D§àn¡¯t m?????? ????? ??????§Ö????e?? §à?? g??ln????????s.?????? He had spent months screaming that he hated her, that she wasn¡¯t his mother. But hearing Isolde say it ¡ª calmly, factually, as though he were a stranger ¡ª struck something primitive in him. He wasn¡¯t rejecting her anymore. She was erasing him. Isolde turned away, her movement fluid and dismissive. ¡°When you¡¯re done cutting, sweep it up. Otherwise there will be no dinner tonight.¡± She walked out without looking back. Behind her, Kaiden sat amid the ruined wool in stunned silence for a moment before bursting into loud, terrified sobs. Isolde didn¡¯t break stride. She went to her room, opened herptop, and began downloading the project files from the Institute. She was done circling the stove. She was a future aerospace engineer. Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away in San Francisco, the charity g was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, and the air was thick with expensive perfume and champagne. Grayson Lancaster stood near the edge of the ballroom, swirling his drink, his eyes fixed on his phone. He had been trying to ess the penthouse surveince feed for the past hour. The screen remained stubbornly ck. Connection Lost. ¡°Gray, stop looking at that thing,¡± Belle purred, sliding her arm through his. She wore a shimmering silver gown that caught the light perfectly, her smile already arranged for the cameras shing nearby. ¡°Isolde has a temper, sure, but she knows how to take care of a kid. She won¡¯t let him die.¡± Grayson looked down at her. Her smile was perfect, practiced, and entirely hollow. ¡°I just have a bad feeling,¡± he muttered. ¡°You worry too much,¡± Belleughed, clinking her ss against his. ¡°Enjoy the night. We¡¯re the stars here.¡± Grayson looked around the room. Theughter felt shrill, the lights too bright. Without warning, a wave of exhaustion moved through him. He didn¡¯t want champagne. He didn¡¯t want polite conversation. He found himself craving, inexplicably, the simple soup Isolde used to make when he workedte ¡ª the quiet warmth of a home that had felt real. He gently but firmly withdrew his arm. ¡°I¡¯m not feeling well. I¡¯m going back to the hotel.¡± Belle¡¯s smile stiffened, a crack appearing in her porcin mask. ¡°You¡¯re leaving? Now? The auction hasn¡¯t even started.¡± ¡°Enjoy it for me,¡± Grayson said, already turning away. He walked out of the ballroom, leaving her standing alone amid the crowd. Belle watched his retreating back, her fingers tightening around her champagne flute until her knuckles turned white. The humiliation burned her cheeks. . . . Chapter 226 Chapter 226: She set the ss down with a sharp click, pulled out her phone, and typed a message to Kaiden with trembling fingers. Stick to the n. Make her life a living hell. It was Saturday night in the penthouse ¡ª a space that had always felt more like a gallery than a home. Isolde stood in the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the vast, cold room. She was tired, her movements mechanical as she spread mustard on a slice of rye bread, making a simple sandwich for a dinner she didn¡¯t really want. The silence shattered with the thunder of small feet. Kaiden burst into the kitchen, his face flushed with manic pride. In his hands he clutched something that glittered aggressively under the recessed lighting. ¡°Look!¡± He mmed the object onto the marble ind. ¡°I made a bracelet for Mommy Belle! Isn¡¯t it pretty?¡± Isolde nced down. It was a crude string of Swarovski crystal beads, held together by thick, uneven knots of fishing line. The craftsmanship was childish and messy, but the effort was unmistakable. ¡°Oh,¡± Isolde said, her voice t. ¡°Nice.¡± Kaiden puffed out his chest, a smirk crossing his face that mirrored his mother¡¯s arrogance precisely. ¡°I used those shiny beads from your jewelry box! You never wear them anyway, so Mommy Belle said they were going to waste.¡± Isolde¡¯s hand froze on the knife. A cold prickle of dread climbed her spine. She kept a specific set of crystals in that box ¡ª a limited-edition ne And had given her for herst birthday. Not just expensive, but one of the few things she owned that didn¡¯t feel tainted by the shadow of this house. ???????? ??n a?§å ??§Ö???????? o?? ????l?§à??e??s.c???? She dropped the sandwich and walked quickly to her bedroom. The sight that met her was worse than she had imagined. Her jewelry box had been pried open, the delicate wood splintered. The gold chain of the ney on the floor, snipped into a dozen useless pieces like a tiny, murdered snake. The remaining beads were scattered across the carpet like frozen tears. Isolde picked up the mangled chain and walked back to the kitchen, her footsteps heavy. ¡°You cut my ne?¡± she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. Kaiden didn¡¯t flinch. He looked at her with a sense of entitlement that was chilling. ¡°Mommy Belle says everything you have was bought by Daddy. That means it¡¯s ours. I can use it if I want.¡± A wave of nausea rolled over Isolde. This wasn¡¯t just a child being naughty or seeking attention. This was the result of systematic poisoning ¡ª theft and destruction justified by a twisted sense of ownership. ¡°This was not bought by your father,¡± Isolde said, her grip tightening on the broken gold. ¡°This was a gift from And. It had nothing to do with this house.¡± Kaiden blinked, momentarily confused, before his face contorted into a mask of rage. ¡°Liar! You¡¯re a liar! That man is bad too! Everything is Daddy¡¯s!¡± . . . Chapter 227 Chapter 227: Isolde didn¡¯t argue. She reached out and took the crude bracelet from the counter. ¡°Since this was made with my property, it belongs to me.¡± ¡°Give it back!¡± Kaiden screamed, lunging at her. ¡°That¡¯s for Mommy Belle! Give it back, you witch!¡± They grappled for a frantic, ugly moment. The fishing line, strained past its limit, snapped. The Swarovski crystals exploded outward, bouncing off the marble and skittering across the hardwood floor with a faint, mocking clink. Kaiden let out a feral shriek. Before Isolde could react, he grabbed her arm and sank his teeth into her wrist with terrifying force. Isolde gasped. The sharp sting forced her to recoil, and in the same instant Kaiden shoved her hard. Her lower back mmed into the edge of the granite countertop, the impact so jarring it stole her breath. She slumped against the counter, clutching its edge, spots dancing in her eyes. Kaiden ignored her entirely. He dropped to his knees, frantically trying to gather the rolling beads, sobbing hysterically. ¡°You ruined it! You broke it! You have to pay me back! I hate you!¡± Isolde looked down at her wrist. A perfect, angry ring of teeth marks was already bruising, small beads of blood welling up from the broken skin. She felt a profound, soul-deep exhaustion. Looking at the screaming child on the floor, she understood with cold rity that trying to reason with him ¡ª a child so thoroughly poisoned by Belle¡¯s malice ¡ª was aplete exercise in futility. ????o??s?????s o?? r??§Ñ???????? ??n ??§Ñ???o??§Öl??.?????? Without a word, she retrieved the first-aid kit. She cleaned the bite and wrapped her wrist in white gauze, her movements precise and devoid of emotion. She didn¡¯t look at Kaiden once. Eventually his screams turned to hups, and then to silence. Exhausted by his own rage, Kaiden slumped against the kitchen table and fell into a fitful sleep. Isolde stood over him, looking at the boy who was supposed to be her stepson. There was no hatred in her eyes. But there was no love either. There was only a vast, echoing hollow. She knelt and began to pick up the crystals, one by one. She didn¡¯t put them back in a box. She walked to the trash can and dropped them in. If the ne was destroyed, then no one would have it ¡ª not her, not Belle, and certainly not the child who believed he could take whatever he wanted. Just as thest bead hit the stic liner, the electronic lock on the front door chimed. The heavy door swung open. Grayson walked in carrying his suitcase, home early. He stopped in the foyer, his gaze moving immediately across the scene ¡ª the scattered debris, the sleeping and tear-stained child, and Isolde, standing with a fresh bandage wrapped around her wrist and a look of absolute, chilling indifference. Grayson stood in the entryway, the dim hallway light casting long shadows across his face. His gaze dropped and locked onto the stark white gauze wrapped around Isolde¡¯s wrist ¡ª a jarring contrast against her pale skin. ¡°What happened?¡± he asked, his voice low, confusion quickly giving way to concern. . . . Chapter 228 Chapter 228: Isolde didn¡¯t look at him. She held a dustpan in her uninjured hand, methodically sweeping thest few shimmering crystals from the floor. With a sharp tilt of her wrist, she dumped them into the trash can. The beads struck the metal bottom with a brittle, final sound. ¡°Ask your son,¡± she said, her voice devoid of emotion. Grayson frowned and stepped closer to the trash can. Inside, amid the dust,y a pile of familiar crystal beads. He recognized them instantly ¡ª a ne Isolde used to wear often. Simple, elegant. One of her favorites. ¡°Kaiden did this?¡± he asked, looking up at her, disbelief and realization fighting for ground. Isolde let out a short, humorlessugh. ¡°He wanted to make a gift for Belle. He thought my ne would look better as a bracelet for her. Truly touching filial piety.¡± Grayson¡¯s face darkened. He turned and walked into the living room, where Kaiden was sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep. The boy¡¯s breathing was heavy, his mouth slightly open, a smear of chocte at the corner of his lips. A piece of rough twine was still clutched loosely in his small, sticky hand. The evidence was undeniable. A??????c????v?? ?????????e?? o?? ga??????v§Ö???.c§à?? Grayson turned back to Isolde, his eyes moving to her bandaged arm. ¡°Your hand ¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she cut him off, turning to grab her purse. ¡°Let me see it,¡± he said, stepping forward with an instinct to check the wound, to offer something. Isolde reacted as though he were a hot iron. She stepped back sharply, dodging his hand with a look of pure repulsion. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡± Her eyes were cold, hard flint. ¡°Since you¡¯re back, give me the vase. I¡¯m leaving immediately.¡± Grayson nced at the window. Rainshed against the ss in a torrential downpour that turned the city lights into bleeding streaks of color. ¡°It¡¯ste, and the weather is terrible. Stay tonight. You can leave in the morning.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to stay here a single second longer than I have to,¡± Isolde said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. A sudden wave of panic moved through Grayson. He remembered a time when she would have invented any excuse to stay near him, to linger in his space. Now she looked at his home as though it were a prison ¡ª or worse, something beneath contempt. ¡°Belle is still in San Francisco,¡± Grayson said, grasping for any reason to keep her there. ¡°I can¡¯t handle Kaiden alone when he wakes up. You know how he gets.¡± Isolde¡¯s expression turned cold and precise. ¡°That is your problem, Grayson. Our deal was for the weekend. You are back. The weekend is over. The transaction isplete.¡± She didn¡¯t wait for a response. She walked past him into the guest room, and a momentter emerged with The Tear of Time cradled securely against her chest. It was heavy, but she held it like a lifeline. Grayson moved to fill the doorway, his frame blocking the exit. ¡°Isolde, wait.¡± He looked at her ¡ª really looked at her ¡ª searching for the woman who used to look back at him with adoration. ¡°Why did we be like this? Why do you hate me this much?¡± . . . Chapter 229 Chapter 229: Isolde stopped. She looked up at him, and for one fleeting second the anger in her eyes gave way to a profound, bone-deep exhaustion. ¡°Because you are blind,¡± she said softly, each word dropping into the silence like a stone into deep water. ¡°Because you are stupid. And because you are selfish.¡± Grayson stood frozen, stunned into silence. In all his life, no one had ever spoken to him that way. No one had ever reduced him so thoroughly to three simple words. ¡°Move,¡± Isolde said. Grayson didn¡¯t move. He couldn¡¯t. He stared at her, struggling to process the quiet devastation in her voice. They stood in the narrow hallway in a standoff, the air between them dense with unsaid words and old wounds. ??h?? ??§Ö???? re§Ñ???????? ??§ç§â??????§Ön§ã§Ö §à?? g??l??§à??§Ö??s.§ã???? Then a blinding sh of lightning flooded the room, followed instantly by a crack of thunder that shook the floorboards. From the living room, a wail erupted. Kaiden jolted awake, terrified by the noise. ¡°Mommy! Mommy Belle!¡± he screamed, crying out for the woman who wasn¡¯t there. Grayson flinched, ncing toward the living room for a fraction of a second. Isolde seized it. She turned sideways and slipped past him, moving quickly toward the front door. ¡°Isolde, wait!¡± Grayson turned and reached out instinctively. His hand mped down on her wrist ¡ª directly over the fresh bandage. ¡°Ah!¡± A sharp cry escaped her lips. Her grip on the vase faltered, the heavy porcin slipping dangerously before she clutched it against her chest with her free arm, her face twisting in pain. Grayson recoiled as though burned, snatching his hand back. ¡°Sorry ¡ª I didn¡¯t mean to ¡ª¡± Isolde leaned against the doorframe, cold sweat breaking on her forehead. She hugged the vase tightly to her chest, her breathing ragged. When she looked at him, her eyes were full of pain and wariness. ¡°Don¡¯te near me,¡± she whispered. ¡°Don¡¯t you daree near me again.¡± She wrenched the door open and stumbled out into the corridor. The elevator was waiting. She rushed in and struck the button with her palm. Grayson stood in the open doorway, paralyzed. He watched the metal doors slide shut, cutting her from view. He looked down at his hand. His fingertips still held the cold of her skin, and a faint, metallic trace lingered in the air ¡ª a haunting reminder of the hurt he had caused, both old and new. Monday morning arrived with a crisp, unforgiving light that filtered through the blinds of the Orbital Systems executive office. Isolde sat at her desk, her movements careful and stiff as she adjusted the fresh bandage around her wrist. And walked in carrying two cups of coffee. His eyes went immediately to her injured hand, his expression darkening. ¡°Grayson?¡± he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous chill. Isolde shook her head, taking the coffee with her good hand. ¡°Kaiden. But I got the vase back.¡± . . . Chapter 230 Chapter 230: She gestured to the corner of her desk. There, sitting in a ce of honor, was the blue and white porcin vase ¡ª bearing a spiderweb of fine cracks, scars from its near-destruction, but whole, its beauty now carrying the weight of a survival story. And sighed and pulled up a chair. ¡°You need to file for a restraining order, Isolde. This is escting.¡± ¡°Not until the divorce is finalized,¡± Isolde said firmly, her eyes on herptop screen. ¡°I won¡¯t give them any ammunition to im I¡¯m trying to alienate the child before the settlement. Now ¡ª let¡¯s talk about work.¡± Before And could argue, the office door burst open. Harper rushed in clutching a tablet, her face flushed with urgency. ¡°Have you guys seen the news?¡± Harper asked, breathless. ¡°Belle is back.¡± And frowned. ¡°What now?¡± Harper tapped the wall-mounted screen, casting the live feed onto the disy. ¡°She¡¯s at the airport.¡± On the screen, Belle was surrounded by shing cameras and microphones, looking radiant and basking in the attention, her smile practiced and sweet. ¡°Miss Escobar,¡± a reporter called out, thrusting a microphone forward. ¡°That bracelet is unique! Is it a new release from a luxury brand?¡± The camera zoomed in on Belle¡¯s wrist. Strung on a crude wire was a chaotic assortment of glittering, multicolored crystals. ???§Ñ???? ??§à???? ????§à??g??ts on ????l??o??e????.§ã???? Belleughed ¡ª a sound like tinkling bells. ¡°Oh, this? No, it¡¯s not a brand. My son Kaiden made it for me with his own hands.¡± She touched the beads with practiced tenderness. ¡°It¡¯s not expensive, just some old beads he found. But it¡¯s full of love. That¡¯s what matters, right?¡± Isolde stared at the screen, her blood running cold. She recognized those beads instantly. They weren¡¯t old beads. They were the salvaged remnants of the ne Kaiden had cut apart ¡ª the very incident that had left her wrist bandaged. ¡°Not expensive,¡± Isolde whispered, a bitter smile touching her lips. And stepped closer to the screen and squinted. Then his eyes widened. ¡°Wait. Those aren¡¯t just beads. That¡¯s the ne I gave you ¡ª the one with the rare tourmalines and sapphires.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Isolde said, her voice devoid of emotion. ¡°She¡¯s calling a small fortune ¡®not expensive.¡¯ And she¡¯s using my flesh and blood to perfect her persona of a loving mother.¡± And mmed his hand on the conference table, the sound cracking through the room. ¡°That is too much. She¡¯s wearing the proceeds of an assault on national television. This is bullying, in and simple.¡± Isolde, however, didn¡¯t look angry. A strange, calcting calm settled over her features. She leaned back in her chair, watching Belle¡¯s performative humility. ¡°Don¡¯t be upset, And,¡± she said softly. ¡°This isn¡¯t bullying. It¡¯s evidence.¡± ¡°Evidence?¡± ¡°Belle just publicly confirmed that Kaiden made that bracelet,¡± Isolde exined, her mind moving three steps ahead. ¡°If I report the ne as stolen ¡ª which it was ¡ª and the stolen goods are currently on her wrist, being broadcast to the entire country¡­¡± And¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°You want to have her arrested for possession of stolen property?¡± . . .
Message from Noa: Dear readers, today we have new releases, hope you like them. God loves you and Noa wishes you all the best. (?O?=)? ? .