Chapter 271
Arland frowned. “Isolde, you’re not ready. InnoTech is still attacking your supply chain. If you cut ties with my legal team now, you’re exposed.”
“If I stay under your wing,” Isolde said, her voice steady, “I am just trading one dependency for another. People still think I am your charity case. Or worse, your mistress.”
Arland flinched slightly at the word. “I don’t care what people think.”
“I do,” Isolde said. “And Effie does. I need to win on my own merit. I need the world to know that Carson Dynamics survived because of my engineering — not because a Lancaster rival took pity on me.”
Arland looked at her for a long moment. He saw the fire in her eyes, the cold, hard resolve that had replaced the grief. He sighed and picked up the folder.
“Fine. You want to fly solo? Then you need fuel. You need a client big enough to scare InnoTech off.”
He slid a different folder across the desk toward her, stamped with a red “CONFIDENTIAL” mark.
𝘞ee𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝗋𝖾𝗹𝖾ase𝘴 𝘰𝗻 𝗀𝘢𝘭𝗇𝘰v𝖾𝘭ѕ.co𝗺
“Vanguard Systems,” Arland said.
Isolde opened it, her eyes scanning the summary. “The defense contractor? They handle deep-space telemetry for the Pentagon.”
“They heard rumors,” Arland said, leaning back in his chair. “Rumors about a new thruster design. ‘Project Phoenix.’ They are very interested in the architect.”
Isolde looked up sharply. “How did they hear?”
Arland winked — a small, mischievous gesture. “I might have dropped a hint to Sterling Stone over drinks last month. I didn’t give him a name. Just the specs.”
Isolde smiled. It was genuine. “You’re a good friend, Arland.”
“Sterling is in town,” Arland said, checking his watch. “He’s visiting Orbital Systems today. If you can convince him that you are the architect, the advance on that contract would clear your family’s debt instantly.”
“I’ll be there,” Isolde said. She grabbed the folder and turned to leave.
“Isolde,” Arland called out.
She stopped at the door.
“Sterling is… eccentric,” Arland warned. “He doesn’t care about suits or last names. He only cares about the math.”
“Good,” Isolde said. “Math is the only language I trust anymore.”
Thirty minutes later, Isolde stopped at the pharmacy near the hospital on her way to the meeting. She needed to pick up the new anti-nausea medication for her mother.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. She placed the bottles on the counter, and the pharmacist — a young woman with tired eyes — scanned the items.
“That will be four hundred and twenty dollars.”
Isolde reached into her purse for her wallet.
“Oh, wait,” the pharmacist said, tapping her screen. “It says here it’s covered.”
Isolde paused. “Covered by insurance?”
“No. It’s linked to the Lancaster Family Account. It’s on auto-pay. Mr. Lancaster’s office updated the authorization this morning.”
Isolde stared at the small screen.
Grayson.
.
.