Chapter 472
Chapter 472:
The screen flickered. A man appeared.
Cyrus Sterling had silver hair and eyes like sharpened steel. He was seated on the wide, cream-colored leather sofa of a private jet, a thick Cuban cigar between his fingers. The faint hum of jet engines came through the speakers.
“Isolde Carson,” Cyrus’s voice boomed — heavy with the unquestionable authority of a man who moved billions of dollars before breakfast. “Carter told me you were a genius. But looking at the reports from yesterday, I think you are just a troublemaker p>
Isolde did not flinch. She looked directly into the camera.
𝘋i𝘀сov𝘦𝘳 𝗻ew 𝗌to𝗋𝗂𝖾𝘴 оո ѕ.𝖼𝗈𝗺
“Mr. Sterling,” Isolde replied, her tone perfectly even. “Geniuses usually are p>
Cyrus let out a loud, barking laugh and exhaled a thick cloud of blue cigar smoke toward the camera.
“Good answer,” Cyrus said. “I heard you made the Lancaster boy so angry his back wounds tore open. Is that true? Severe burns, I was told, along with that shattered right hand of his p>
Isolde’s jaw tightened. A cold knot formed in her stomach at the mention of Grayson, but she forced her expression to remain entirely blank.
“He brought that upon himself,” Isolde stated flatly.
The sharp clacking of high heels against wet stone echoed through the entrance of the VIP spa area.
Isolde shifted her gaze.
Belle Escobar strutted into the humid enclosure, followed by three women draped in designer resort wear. Belle wore a tiny, strategic swimsuit under a sheer silk cover-up. She spotted Isolde immediately, her eyes zeroing in on the propped-up tablet. A nasty, triumphant smirk twisted her lips.
“Well, look at this,” Belle announced loudly, her shrill voice cutting through the peaceful bubbling of the hot springs. “Reporting to your sugar daddy already? You are so desperate you cannot even bother to put your clothes on first p>
The women behind her giggled behind manicured hands.
On the tablet screen, Cyrus Sterling stopped smoking. His thick silver eyebrows crashed together.
“Whose dog is barking in the background?” Cyrus demanded, his voice dropping an octave, turning instantly lethal.
Isolde could not stop the small, sharp smile that touched the corners of her mouth.
“That is the Chief Strategy Officer of InnoTech,” Isolde answered clearly. “Belle Escobar p>
Cyrus’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
“Escobar?” Cyrus repeated with heavy disgust. “The figurehead of that third-rate company built entirely on stolen blueprints p>
Belle heard the word “stolen.” The blood rushed to her face, turning her cheeks an ugly, mottled red. She stomped to the edge of Isolde’s lounger and leaned aggressively toward the tablet.
“Who are you calling a thief?” Belle shrieked. “Do you have any idea who I am p>
She squinted through the steam at the screen.
Her breath hitched. Her lungs stopped working entirely.
The man staring back at her was the undisputed godfather of the global technology sector — a man whose aggressive corporate takeovers she had studied in university textbooks.
All the color drained instantly from Belle’s face.