Chapter 167
Chapter 167:
He stood and buttoned his jacket. The transformation was instant — 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 p>
“Belle can have the seat. She can have the title. But the physical prototype of the Phoenix-X7 — the one currently in Orbital’s possession — does not leave our facility. You can display your own mockup. But you do not touch my jet p>
Grayson waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. We have our own display model. It’s just for show anyway p>
He didn’t know. He didn’t know that his display model had a fatal design flaw.
“Do we have a deal?” Grayson asked.
Isolde looked at the man she had once promised to love forever — a man now using their own child as a bargaining chip.
𝘙о𝗆𝖺nce 𝗻𝘰𝘃𝖾ls 𝗼ո
“The deal is done p>
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 — if you had just accepted your role — we could have been comfortable p>
Isolde rose from her chair and cradled her cast.
“Comfortable,” she repeated. “Like a pet. Like a piece of furniture p>
She met his eyes. “I don’t want comfort, Grayson. I want the sky p>
Grayson shook his head, genuine pity settling across his face. “You’re grounded, Isolde. Look at you. You have nothing p>
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 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 access. 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 notification from her security team.
Effie is home. Safe.
She let out a breath she felt she had been holding for days. The company 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 p>