Chapter 433
Chapter 433:
She walked to the public trash can on the corner. Without ceremony, she deleted the photo — the digital equivalent of tossing the ring itself. A final, clean break.
She didn’t look back.
A bright red convertible pulled up to the curb. Harper Vance was behind the wheel, wearing oversized sunglasses.
“Get in, Single Lady!” Harper yelled. “We’re going drinking p>
𝗗𝗈𝗐ոl𝗈ad 𝖯D𝗙𝘀 𝖿𝗋е𝘦 𝗈ո
Isolde laughed and jumped into the passenger seat.
“To freedom!” Isolde cheered as the car peeled away into traffic.
High above, on the fortieth floor, Grayson stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the red car disappear.
Arthur stood behind him.
“Sir?” Arthur asked.
Grayson pointed down at the street corner. “Did you deliver the box to her office p>
Arthur blinked. “Yes, sir. As you instructed p>
“Good,” Grayson said, his voice devoid of emotion. “She looked at the trash can. Go pick that up p>
Arthur stared at him. “What p>
“The ring,” Grayson said. “Pick it up p>
Later. A rooftop bar in Soho.
Isolde and Harper were clinking champagne flutes.
“I can’t believe you actually helped him sign,” Harper said, shaking her head. “I would have let him struggle p>
“It was pity, Harper,” Isolde said, taking a sip. “Nothing more p>
Her phone buzzed on the table.
Grayson.
Isolde rolled her eyes and picked it up.
“What now?” she answered. “Did you forget to sign a page p>
“The dealership is expecting you,” Grayson’s voice said. “Go pick up the car p>
“I’m busy,” Isolde said. “I’m celebrating not being your wife anymore p>
“Isolde,” Grayson said, his tone dropping. “You are driving Effie around in Harper’s convertible. Go get the SUV. Now p>
“Stop ordering me around,” Isolde snapped.
“It’s not an order,” Grayson said. “It’s a plea. Please. For Effie p>
Isolde paused. He never said please.
“Fine,” Isolde said. “But I’m picking the car I want. Not the one you want p>
She hung up.
“Buzzkill?” Harper asked.
“He wants me to go car shopping,” Isolde said, standing up.
“Then go get the most expensive one!” Harper said. “Make him feel it p>
Isolde shook her head. “No. I want the most practical one. I want him to know I don’t need his exaggeration p>
She picked up her bag. “Come on. Take me to the dealership. Since he’s in such a hurry to spend his money p>
Manhattan Luxury Auto Group.
The showroom floor was polished marble.
The sales manager — a slick man in a tailored suit — practically ran toward them the moment Isolde and Harper walked in. Arthur had clearly called ahead.
“Mrs. Lancaster!” the manager beamed. “We have the limited edition sports car ready for you to view p>
“It’s Ms. Carson,” Isolde interrupted coolly. “I’m divorced p>
The manager’s smile froze for a fraction of a second before he recovered smoothly. “Of course. Ms. Carson, this way, please p>
He led them to a gleaming red Ferrari, its low-slung body a sinuous curve of raw power.
“Mr. Grayson reserved this for you p>
Harper let out a low whistle. “So this is what you get for throwing a ring back at him p>