Chapter 256
Belle stared at him, her nails digging into her palms. He was lying. The jealousy in his eyes when he looked at Arland’s post was unmistakable.
She forced a sweet smile and changed the subject. “Gray, my mother wants to come visit you this afternoon. She also wants to discuss the Carson Dynamics merger.”
Grayson’s eyes went blank. He picked up his tablet again. “Let her come. I have some questions for Cheryl anyway.”
Daron grinned, sensing the shift in power. “Looks like the Carson family is finally going to be wiped off the map.”
Outside the open door, a young nurse paused with a tray of medications. She pulled out her phone and quickly typed a message to a gossip blog tip line.
Isolde sat at her desk, surrounded by blueprints.
Her phone vibrated against the wood. The screen lit up with a private, unlisted number she hadn’t blocked — the old-world line from the estate’s study, a number Beatrice alone still used. She knew exactly who it was.
She picked it up. “Grandmother Beatrice. If this is about Grayson’s health, I am not interested.”
Beatrice’s voice sounded older than usual, heavy with fatigue. “Isolde, I know you have been wronged. But as family, there are certain appearances we must maintain.”
“I am not a Lancaster anymore,” Isolde interrupted, her voice hard. “Effie is asleep, and I have work to do. Goodnight.”
𝖱оmа𝘯𝖼𝖾 n𝗼𝗏е𝗅s 𝘰𝗻 𝗴a𝗅𝗻𝗈v𝖾𝘭s.𝖼𝘰𝘮
She ended the call and tossed the phone onto the desk.
Her heart beat a little faster. Rejecting the only person in that house who had ever shown her a shred of respect felt wrong — but she had to sever the infected limb completely.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again.
Isolde groaned and picked it up without looking. “I said I am not coming.”
“Isolde?”
The voice was thick, wet, and trembling. It wasn’t Beatrice. It was her Uncle Saul.
Isolde sat up straight. “Uncle Saul? What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?”
“Isolde, you need to come to Lenox Hill Hospital right now,” Saul sobbed into the receiver. “It’s your mother. She collapsed.”
Isolde’s phone slipped from her fingers. It hit the desk with a loud clatter. She scrambled to pick it up. “What? She told me she was working late at the office!”
“It’s a severe stomach hemorrhage,” Saul said, his voice breaking. “The doctor said it’s from extreme stress and exhaustion. An old ulcer she’s had for years, ruptured. Isolde… it doesn’t look good.”
Isolde didn’t ask another question.
She sprinted out of the study, woke the live-in nanny, gave her rapid-fire instructions to lock the doors and watch Effie, and ran out of the apartment.
.
.