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Chapter 685
Chapter 685:
She would not deploy the Endgame folder — the fifty-million-dollar wire transfer evidence — just yet. That was reserved for the final kill, when he had nothing left to lose. For now, the threat of public humiliation at his own flagship event would suffice.
Grayson felt the blood drain from his face. His heart slammed against his ribs.
“You cannot use a legal document to hold this entire corporation hostage!” Grayson yelled, panic threading through his anger.
“Watch me,” Isolde whispered. “Play by my rules, Grayson. Or read about your ruined life in the Wall Street Journal tomorrow morning p>
Click.
о𝗿𝗴𝖺𝗇𝗶𝗓𝗲 уo𝘂r 𝗹𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗿y оո
The line went dead.
Grayson stared at the receiver, a dial tone buzzing in his ear. He threw the phone onto the desk, seized his heavy solid-gold fountain pen, and hurled it across the room with a violent roar of frustration.
The gold metal struck the reinforced glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. The pen shattered. Dark blue ink exploded across the glass and rained down onto the priceless Persian rug.
Silas pressed his back against the wall and stopped breathing.
Grayson braced both hands on the desk and hung his head, chest heaving. The absolute control he had wielded over Isolde for five years was gone. She was holding him by the throat, and he was powerless to break her grip.
In her apartment, Isolde tossed her phone onto the sofa and crossed to her laptop. She opened the master security portal for the Centennial Gala and pulled up the VIP access database. She typed in the name Belle Escobar and, with a single keystroke, moved it into the highest-tier restriction category.
The screen flashed red: BLACKLISTED — DENY ENTRY.
Isolde did not stop there. She drafted an encrypted email to the private security firm handling the event.
Subject: High-Level Threat Protocol. If the individual listed as Belle Escobar attempts to breach the perimeter, do not engage in dialogue. Detain her immediately and transfer her to the NYPD under charges of criminal trespassing.
She hit send.
Isolde picked up her coffee cup and took a slow sip. The bitter liquid grounded her.
Her encrypted phone buzzed on the table. She picked it up — a secure text from Dr. Julian Thorne.
The medical transport jet is secured. Arthur is stable. Wheels up from Teterboro Airport at 0900 tomorrow. I will meet you at the hospital at 0700 to finalize the transfer.
Isolde let out a long, shaky breath. The tight knot of anxiety in her chest loosened slightly.
She typed back: Thank you, Julian. See you tomorrow.
She held the phone for a moment, staring at his name on the screen. Julian had stepped into the nightmare and extended a lifeline at the exact moment her own husband had left her uncle to die.
Back at SkyLine, Grayson straightened slowly. He stared at the ink spreading across his rug.
The panic was hardening into something colder — a focused, paranoid obsession. He could not force Isolde to submit through pressure. He needed to find her weak point.
He looked at Silas.