Chapter 335
Grayson ignored her. He spotted Isolde and Arland by the car and walked straight toward them.
“Arland,” Grayson said, his voice tight. “Give us a minute.”
Arland looked at Isolde. She gave a single nod. He stepped back and leaned against a nearby pillar, close enough to watch.
Grayson stopped in front of her. He looked at the car, then at her.
“You’re sleeping with him. Aren’t you.”
It wasn’t a question.
Isolde let out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s your first thought? Really?”
𝗗𝗶𝘀𝘤𝘰v𝘦𝗿 ո𝘦w 𝘴𝘁𝗼𝘳i𝘦𝗌 𝘰𝘯 𝗴а𝗅𝗻o𝘃𝘦𝗹𝗌.с𝗼𝘮
“You give him a car,” Grayson said, his voice rising. “You whisper in corners. You look at him like—”
“Like I trust him?” Isolde finished.
“Did you leave me for him?” Grayson demanded. “Was this planned?”
Isolde stepped closer, invading his space.
“I left you because you are hollow, Grayson,” she said. “I left because you watched your son abuse my daughter and wrote a check to make it disappear.”
She held his gaze, her voice dropping to a hiss. “Arland respects me. You owned me.”
Grayson flinched as though she had struck him. “I gave you everything — the penthouse, the life, the status—”
“You gave me a cage!” Isolde’s voice finally broke through the calm, ringing off the concrete walls. “And now you’re furious that I broke out.”
Belle’s heels clacked frantically across the floor as she rushed over, sensing she was losing control of the moment.
“Gray, let’s go!” She seized his arm and turned a glare on Isolde. “Stay away from him, you desperate housewife.”
Isolde looked at Belle, then at Grayson.
“He walked to me, Belle,” she said coldly. “Put a leash on him.”
Grayson looked at Belle clutching his arm like a lifeline. Then he looked at Isolde — standing free and fierce in the midnight blue velvet. He looked, unmistakably, trapped.
Isolde pulled the passenger door open.
“Drive, Arland,” she said. “Before the air gets toxic.”
They got in. The engine growled to life, a deep, guttural sound that filled the garage. Arland pulled out smoothly, the tires giving a brief shriek against the concrete floor.
Grayson stood watching the red taillights climb the ramp and disappear.
He turned and kicked the concrete pillar. The pain shot up through his foot, but it was preferable to what was happening in his chest.
“She’s just trying to make you jealous,” Belle said, smoothing her dress. “It’s pathetic.”
Grayson stared at the empty ramp.
“It’s working,” he muttered.
“What?” Belle asked.
“Nothing.”
His phone rang. He pulled it out. The nanny.
“Mr. Lancaster? Kaiden is sick. He has a fever.”
Grayson closed his eyes.
Reality was back.
Isolde’s bedroom was dark. It was 2:00 AM.
She couldn’t sleep. The adrenaline from the poker game had long since drained away, leaving a hollow ache in her bones. She got out of bed, walked to her dresser, and opened the bottom drawer, reaching to the very back.
Her fingers closed around a small velvet box.
.