Chapter 542
Chapter 542:
Ellyn seized his sleeve, her knuckles white. “Saul is dying. He is right downstairs. We need this room. Please — I am begging you — ask Mr. Escobar to move to another room. He only has a fracture p>
Belle stepped in front of Grayson before he could respond, placing herself between him and Ellyn with deliberate calm.
“Aunt Ellyn, we were here first. My uncle’s surgery is critical. He cannot be disturbed p>
Isolde stepped forward. Her movements were unnervingly steady. She reached her mother and gently drew her back, her voice low and firm.
“Mom. Don’t beg them p>
Grayson’s eyes moved to Isolde’s face — deathly pale, hollowed by exhaustion, dark shadows pressed beneath her eyes. His frown deepened.
“What’s happened to Saul p>
Isolde let out a short, sharp sound — a laugh entirely stripped of humor. Her eyes were flat and empty.
“It is none of your concern, Mr. Lancaster p>
The formal address hit him like a physical blow. He took a step toward her. “If it is serious, I can arrange a transfer p>
рo𝗉𝗎𝗅a𝗿 𝘴𝘁o𝗋𝗂es 𝗼ո ѕ.𝖼o𝗺
“No need,” Isolde cut him off, her voice precise as broken glass. “Save your resources for your family p>
She turned her dead-eyed gaze to Belle. “I wish your uncle a swift recovery. A fracture must be quite the ordeal p>
Without another word, she turned and drew Ellyn firmly down the hallway, away from the elevator, away from Grayson, away from everything that had once been hers.
Grayson stood and watched her retreating figure, an inexplicable panic pressing in around his chest. He turned to his assistant.
“Go and find out about Saul’s condition. Now p>
“Gray.” Belle tugged at his arm with insistent fingers. “The doctors are waiting for our signatures. Uncle is still in pain p>
Grayson hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes still on the empty corridor where Isolde had disappeared. Then the moment passed. He exhaled, turned, and followed Belle into the VIP suite.
In the emergency area below, Ellyn’s last reserves gave out entirely. She collapsed into a hard plastic chair, her body shaking with silent, broken sobs.
“It’s over,” she whispered. “It’s all over p>
Isolde knelt before her. She took her mother’s hands gently in hers and wiped the tears from her worn, creased cheeks.
“It is not over,” Isolde said. Her voice carried a stillness that was more unnerving than any outburst. “If he will not give it to us, we will take it ourselves p>
She rose, pulled out her phone, and navigated to a single, heavily encrypted contact. Her fingers were perfectly steady.
She pressed call.
The line connected immediately — silent and secure.
When she spoke, her voice was frighteningly calm, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding her.
“This is Sophia. Connect me to the Director’s Office of the National Institutes of Health p>
Isolde stood by the VIP elevator bank, her fingers still curled around her phone, the humiliation and unease from the corridor still pressing against her chest. Before she could take a step toward the nurses’ station or dial her mentor’s number, the hospital’s overhead speakers crackled to life.