Chapter 565

Chapter 565:

Tears spilled over Belle’s lashes. She let out a ragged, desperate sob. She had to reframe this. She had to turn his anger toward Isolde.

“No, Gray,” she cried. “It’s Isolde. She is using the police to extort me p>

The penthouse office of Lancaster Group Headquarters was bathed in the dim amber glow of the setting sun.

Grayson sat behind his massive mahogany desk, staring at the supply chain report in his hands. The numbers for InnoTech made no sense. There were gaping holes in the data. Vague expenditures that led nowhere.

His jaw tightened. A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes.

The heavy double doors burst open.

Belle stumbled into the room. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her makeup meticulously touched up to look perfectly ruined. She carried herself like a tragic heroine.

His secretary hovered nervously in the doorway. “Mr. Lancaster, I am so sorry — Miss Escobar insisted on coming in p>

Grayson did not look at the secretary. He kept his eyes on Belle and raised one hand. The doors clicked shut, sealing them in the quiet room.

“I thought I made myself perfectly clear,” Grayson said, his voice low and dangerously even. “I am working p>

𝗖𝗁i𝘯e𝗌е 𝘯o𝗏e𝘭𝗌 𝘁𝘳𝘢nѕ𝘭𝖺𝘵е𝖽 𝗼𝗇 ѕ.c𝗼𝗺

Belle rushed to the desk and planted both hands on the polished wood, leaning toward him. Her chest heaved with practiced, shuddering breaths.

“Gray, you have to help me,” she pleaded, her voice thick with manufactured tears. “Isolde has completely snapped p>

Grayson set his silver fountain pen slowly onto the leather blotter. He leaned back in his chair and studied her face.

“How exactly has she snapped?” he asked.

Belle swallowed. She watched his eyes, trying to read them.

“I went to the hospital to beg her to drop the charges,” she said. “For my mother’s sake. I humbled myself. And do you know what she told me?” She paused, letting a single tear roll down her cheek. “She said that unless I hand over full control of the Skyline project and publicly confess to being a homewrecker, she will let my mother rot in jail p>

Belle buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

“She is using the police to settle personal scores, Gray! She is weaponizing the justice system to steal my company p>

Grayson sat perfectly still. He watched her perform.

A year ago, this display would have triggered something fierce and protective in his chest. He would have been furious at Isolde. He would have called his lawyers and dismantled whoever had made Belle cry.

But now, looking at her, all he saw was a stranger.

His mind went back to the image of Isolde on that stage hours earlier — the white suit, the stark bandage on her cheek, the cold and brilliant light in her eyes as she solved a fluid dynamics equation that had stumped his best engineers without hesitation or notes.

Isolde was Sophia. A generational genius. She designed dual-circuit bypass systems from memory. A woman with that kind of intellect did not need to resort to cheap, petty extortion.

The silence in the office stretched on, growing heavy and suffocating.