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Chapter 677
Chapter 677:
“Everything is fine, dear. I am simply calling to entrust you with your most important duty of the year,” Beatrice said, her tone bright with cheerful expectation. “The Lancaster Centennial Charity Gala is in exactly four weeks. It is the most critical networking event of the decade for Lancaster Holdings. I need you to assume your position as lead organizer and hostess, just as you always have p>
Isolde’s breath caught in her throat. A disbelieving, pained silence stretched between them. She couldn’t possibly stand on that stage — but how could she refuse the one person in that family who had ever treated her like a daughter?
“Grandmother,” Isolde began, choosing her words carefully, “I’m not sure I’m the best person for it this year. Perhaps the PR department could take the lead? They are very capable p>
“Nonsense,” Beatrice said, though her tone remained affectionate. “They are capable, but they lack your taste and your grace. My dear, with all the recent unpleasantness surrounding the InnoTech business, Wall Street requires a display of stability and tradition. I need a steady hand I can trust completely. I need you. No one else can do it to my satisfaction p>
The gentle plea hit Isolde with more force than any threat could have. Beatrice didn’t know. She didn’t know about the divorce filing, about the move, about the fact that the family unity she wanted to project was already a shattered ruin. To tell her now, over the phone, felt impossibly cruel.
The image of her dying uncle flashed through her mind. She was already fighting one desperate war for Arthur’s life. She couldn’t bring herself to open another front by breaking this kind old woman’s heart.
She was cornered — not by malice, but by love.
𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘯
Isolde took a deep, shuddering breath and forced the panic and guilt down, locking them behind a wall of ice.
“Alright, Grandmother,” Isolde said, her voice heavy with a resignation that Beatrice mistook for solemn acceptance. “I will host the gala for you p>
“Oh, wonderful!” Beatrice sounded genuinely relieved. “I knew I could count on you p>
“But I have one condition,” Isolde added, her tone shifting — not to a blade, but to that of a consummate professional. “If I am to do this for you, I need it to be perfect. That means I must have absolute, unilateral control over the guest list, the seating arrangements, and the event flow. No interference from anyone. Not the PR department, and not even Grayson p>
Beatrice chuckled softly, the sound of complete trust. “Granted, my dear. That sounds exactly like the perfectionist I know and admire. The budget will be transferred to your account tomorrow. Do not disappoint me, Isolde p>
The line went dead.
Isolde slowly lowered the phone. She stared at the blank screen for a long time.
The irony of the situation burned in her chest. She had been pulled back into the Lancaster cage — not by force, but by the gentle hand of its kindest resident. But as the seconds ticked by, that feeling of entrapment began to mutate. It hardened into a cold, terrifying clarity.
They wanted her to build a stage. They wanted her to direct a play. Beatrice, in her loving ignorance, had just handed Isolde the ultimate weapon.