Chapter 477

Chapter 477:

“I am fine, Harper,” Isolde whispered. “Actually… I feel like I have never been more awake in my entire life p>

Lucas, one of their lead engineers, jogged over holding a steaming paper cup and pressed it into Isolde’s hands.

“Hot cocoa,” he said, grinning slightly. “That throw was epic, by the way. Even though that coat probably cost more than my car p>

Isolde wrapped her frozen fingers around the hot cardboard cup and let the heat slowly seep into her skin.

“Some things,” she said quietly, staring at the dark liquid, “no matter how high the price tag, are still just garbage p>

Ten minutes later, Isolde stood under a scalding hot shower in her villa, watching the pink flush return to her skin. She studied her reflection through the fogged glass. The weak, desperate housewife who had waited for Grayson Lancaster was dead.

In the main building, Grayson sat on the edge of his bed while Arthur carefully peeled the bloody shirt from his back to change the bandages. Grayson stared blankly at the wall as the words echoed in his skull on an endless, agonizing loop.

Mo𝘴t 𝗿е𝖺𝘥 𝗍𝘩іs we𝖾𝗄 oո g𝗮l𝗻о𝗏е𝗅ѕ.с𝗈𝗺

But your coat makes me physically sick. I find it entirely disgusting.

She wasn’t talking about the mud. She was talking about the coat. She was talking about Belle’s perfume. She was talking about him.

Grayson’s good hand curled into a tight fist.

“Arthur,” he rasped, his voice dark and lethal. “Check the security logs for the terrace door. Find out exactly why it locked. If someone tampered with it—” He left the sentence unfinished, but his eyes completed it with murderous intent.

In the suite next door, Belle sat on her bed, rapidly typing out a text to Chase.

The bitch threw his coat in the mud! Plan worked perfectly. Gray is going to hate her forever now.

Belle smiled at her phone, completely blind to the fact that the ground beneath her was already crumbling.

The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving the mountain blanketed in blinding white snow.

Isolde stood in the main elevator lobby of the resort. She wore a sharp, tailored charcoal-gray suit, her hair pulled back into a sleek professional ponytail. In her hands, she held a silver tablet containing her final design schematics.

She pressed the down button.

The silver doors slid open with a soft chime.

Grayson and Belle were already inside.

It was a glass observation elevator. Behind them, the panoramic view of sunlit, snow-capped mountains was breathtaking. The air inside the small glass box, however, was suffocatingly heavy.

Isolde paused for exactly one beat. Then she stepped in. She was not going to wait for the next car just to avoid them.

The doors slid shut.

The enclosed space instantly filled with the thick, sweet scent of Belle’s floral perfume — the exact same scent that had clung to Grayson’s coat.

Belle immediately shifted closer to Grayson, wrapping her hands possessively around his uninjured left arm and pressing her chest against his bicep.