Chapter 511

Chapter 511:

Warm light filled the private room, lazy jazz drifting softly through the air. Isolde wore a dark green velvet slip dress chosen carefully by Harper, its sleek cut tracing the graceful lines of her shoulders and neck. Gone was the crisp, utilitarian look of her lab days, replaced by a rare softness and quiet radiance.

Harper crossed the room with two glittering cocktails and pressed one into her hand, the glass cool against her skin. She raised her own with a bright laugh.

“To freedom! To the engineering gold medal! To Isolde, finally living for herself for once p>

Arland sat on the opposite sofa, and when he glanced up at her, a flicker of undisguised surprise crossed his face. He caught himself quickly, looked away, and maintained a respectful, unobtrusive distance for the rest of the evening.

The music, the unhurried atmosphere, the soft glow of the room — it all worked gradually on the tension Isolde had been carrying for days. The exhaustion, the anxiety, the constant vigilance — they loosened their grip, little by little.

Then her phone vibrated sharply inside her handbag, fracturing the calm.

Isolde’s heart lurched. The moment she pulled it out and saw the caller ID, her face fell, her fingers tightening slightly around the case.

The name on the screen read: Grandmother Beatrice.

Harper glanced over, frowned immediately, and rolled her eyes. “Don’t answer,” she whispered. “She only cares about the family’s reputation. You don’t have to deal with that tonight p>

Isolde exhaled softly, shaking her head with quiet resignation. “I can’t ignore it. If she can’t reach me, she’ll call Effie’s nanny next. It will only get more complicated. I don’t want to upset her p>

J𝗼𝗂ո t𝗁𝗼us𝘢𝗻𝗱ѕ 𝗼𝖿 𝗳а𝘯ѕ 𝗼𝗻

Madam Beatrice was one of the few elders who had ever truly cared for and protected her. That was precisely why Isolde had concealed the truth of her divorce from Grayson — unwilling to shatter the old woman’s hope of a happy family.

She rose from her seat and stepped out to the balcony, away from the noise inside. She took a slow breath and answered, keeping her voice steady and gentle.

“Good evening, Madam Beatrice p>

An aged but warm voice came from the other end, less formal than usual, more tender.

“Isolde, my dear. I heard it’s your birthday today. Are you well p>

Isolde’s chest softened slightly. “Yes, madam. Thank you for remembering p>

Beatrice paused, then spoke with the quiet certainty of someone rooted in long-held family values. “Has Grayson gotten you a birthday present? A Lancaster man does not neglect his wife — it is a matter of character, and I must look out for you p>

Isolde went still. A quiet wave of sadness moved through her. The old woman was not simply fixating on etiquette — she was afraid of Isolde being wronged, afraid of Grayson taking her for granted. The formality in her words was old and worn, but the care beneath it was unmistakable.

Isolde stared down at the bright, busy street below, gripping the phone. For the first time, and entirely to protect the old woman’s feelings, she lied.

“He did. It’s perfect. We’re having dinner together tonight to celebrate p>