Chapter 552
Chapter 552:
Isolde shook her head. A faint, grim smile touched her lips. “No. It was worth it p>
She held her mother’s gaze in the reflection. “This slap did more than hurt my face,” she murmured. “It woke Grayson up. And it gave me the perfect reason to send them where they belong p>
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. The screen lit up with a name: Arland Roth.
“Isolde.” His voice was urgent the moment she answered. “I saw the news. Are you all right? Can you still present at the summit p>
Isolde’s expression hardened into something resolute. “Of course. Even if I have to crawl onto that stage, I will be there p>
A brief pause, followed by a low, appreciative chuckle. “Good. That’s the spirit. Don’t worry — I’ll make sure you have the best entrance possible p>
She hung up and set the phone down.
Then a wave of intense vertigo crashed over her without warning. The lights in the room stretched and blurred into long ribbons of white. The floor tilted beneath her feet. She seized the edge of the sink, knuckles white, as a black fog crept inward from the edges of her vision.
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Her body, pushed to its absolute limit, was finally demanding to be heard.
But she could not fall. Not now. Not before tomorrow.
With a shaking hand, she found a small bottle of high-strength painkillers in her purse, tipped two into her palm, and swallowed them dry. The bitter taste was a small price to pay for a few more hours of strength.
She had settled her mother and uncle into a private room on one of the upper floors, made sure they had everything they needed, and slipped away quietly. The hospital corridors, once charged with the frantic energy of the emergency, had grown quiet — almost serene.
Isolde walked through the main lobby. It was cavernous and nearly empty at this hour, save for two security guards conversing in low tones near the information desk. The polished floors reflected the sterile overhead lights, making the vast space feel colder and more remote than it already was.
She moved toward the revolving doors with a single-minded focus — to escape this place, to put as much distance as possible between herself and him.
Then a wave of dizziness hit without warning. The strength that had carried her through the past several hours evaporated in an instant. Her feet turned to lead, her legs to water. The high fever she had been suppressing all day had finally come to collect.
She staggered, a choked gasp escaping her lips as she pitched forward.
She didn’t reach the floor.
A pair of strong arms shot out and caught her, pulling her back from the edge of collapse.
The scent of cedar filled her senses — sharp, unmistakable, and entirely unwelcome.
Grayson. He hadn’t left.
He held her against his chest, and through the haze of her fever she felt the solid, unyielding wall of him.