Chapter 431
Chapter 431:
“The police report came back this morning,” Isolde said. “The brake line was severed. Metal fatigue, they say. Or a very clean cut p>
Grayson’s eyes narrowed. “I will have my private investigators look into it. If someone touched your car p>
“Don’t pretend you care about my safety, Grayson,” Isolde said tiredly. “You made your priorities very clear on the side of that mountain p>
Grayson opened his mouth to speak, but Isolde cut him off.
𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇
“I’m here to discuss the final details of our separation,” she said. “Since my car is totaled, I need transportation p>
Grayson pointed to a folder on the tray table with his left hand. “I already handled it. Open it p>
Isolde opened the folder. It was a purchase order for a vehicle.
“You can go to the dealership today,” Grayson said. “Pick whatever you want. Bill it to the Lancaster Trust p>
“I have insurance,” Isolde said, closing the folder.
“Your insurance will give you the depreciated value of a five-year-old sedan,” Grayson snapped. “You have Effie to transport. I want her in something with five-star safety ratings. I want her in a tank p>
Isolde looked at him. “You’re using Effie again p>
“I am using my wallet,” Grayson corrected. “It is the only thing you seem to accept from me these days p>
“Fine,” Isolde said. “I’ll take the car. Consider it hazard pay for almost being killed by your girlfriend’s screaming p>
“She is not my —” Grayson started, then stopped. He exhaled. “The papers for Effie’s final custody agreement are ready. We sign tomorrow p>
“Good,” Isolde said. “I want this over p>
The door banged open.
Belle marched in wearing a silk robe, looking perfectly manicured despite her injuries. She stopped dead when she saw Isolde.
“What is she doing here?” Belle demanded, her voice shrill.
She crossed to the side table, grabbed the fruit basket Isolde had brought, and threw it into the trash can.
“Get out!” Belle screamed. “You tried to kill us, and now you bring fruit? You are a psychopath p>
Grayson winced at the noise. “Belle, stop it p>
“No!” Belle yelled. “She is manipulating you, Gray! Can’t you see it p>
Isolde didn’t react. She didn’t so much as glance at the trash can. She smoothed her skirt and looked at Grayson.
“I’ll see you at the arbitration office,” Isolde said calmly. “Try not to let your nurse stress you out. It’s bad for bone healing p>
She turned and walked out, leaving Belle screaming at the air behind her.
Midtown Manhattan. The Arbitration Firm.
The conference room was cold, the air conditioning set to a temperature that discouraged lingering.
Isolde sat on one side of the long mahogany table, her lawyer beside her. Grayson sat opposite them, his right arm in the sling. He looked terrible — deathly pale, leaning heavily to his uninjured side, the sheer effort of sitting upright visible in the rigid set of his jaw.