Chapter 611
Chapter 611:
Isolde picked up the delicate cup. The porcelain rattled slightly against the saucer before she steadied her hands and took a small sip. “I am perfectly fine, Grandmother,” she lied smoothly. “Just tired from managing Effie’s recovery p>
Beatrice leaned back and rested her hands on her cane. “Let us dispense with the pleasantries,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet room. “I saw the Wall Street Journal. I saw the video from the school. Is my grandson making a fool of you, Isolde p>
Isolde’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. She wanted to scream the truth. She wanted to tell this terrifying old woman that Grayson had abandoned his sick child in a storm. But she thought of Effie, and she swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
She manufactured a soft, dismissive smile. “The newspapers are desperate for a scandal,” she said, her voice laced with practiced nonchalance. “Grayson and Belle share a strictly professional relationship. InnoTech is a vital asset to SkyLine. I trust my husband completely p>
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Professional?” she repeated. “The boy called her ‘mommy’ in public. That is a rather severe breach of professional boundaries, would you not agree p>
A cold spike of panic ran through Isolde. She had to weave the lie tighter.
“Kaiden is a sensitive child,” she explained, holding Beatrice’s gaze without wavering. “I have been entirely focused on Effie’s health recently and have not been able to give Kaiden the attention he demands. Belle has been at the house frequently for project meetings, and he simply attached himself to the nearest available figure. It is a childish phase. Nothing more p>
She was taking the blame. She was protecting the man she despised. The psychological toll was agonizing.
Beatrice stared at her in silence. The antique grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, counting the seconds of the interrogation.
“You are a very intelligent woman, Isolde,” Beatrice said at last, her voice slow and deliberate. “Too intelligent to be blind. Tell me—why have you stopped using the family’s supplementary credit accounts? Are you preparing for something p>
𝘞𝘦𝘦𝗄𝘭𝘆 r𝖾𝗹𝗲а𝘴𝘦𝗌 𝘰𝗻
Isolde’s breath hitched. Beatrice missed nothing.
“I am simply diversifying,” she said, her voice unwavering. “I have begun investing my own personal capital into independent tech ventures. I prefer to keep my private investments separate from the Lancaster trust ledgers for tax purposes p>
Beatrice studied her for a long, torturous moment.
Finally, the old woman sighed. The tension in the room dropped a fraction. “Very well,” she said. She reached across the table and placed her cold, bony hand over Isolde’s. “Remember this, Isolde. As long as I am breathing, you are the only recognized mistress of this family. No one will usurp your position p>
Isolde looked down at the old woman’s hand. A complex, calculating wave of strategic regret washed over her. She was actively deceiving the only person in this family who possessed the intellect to be a worthy opponent. Under different circumstances, Beatrice could have been a formidable ally. But in this ruthless game of survival, even the Matriarch was nothing more than a powerful piece on a chessboard that Isolde had to maneuver around.
“Thank you, Grandmother,” Isolde whispered.