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Chapter 686
Chapter 686:
“Call the forensic accounting team,” Grayson ordered, his voice hollow and dark. “I want a full trace on Isolde’s recent financial movements. I want to know exactly who she is talking to, and where she is getting her money. Find her leverage p>
The air in the CEO’s office was thick with the acrid smell of a Cuban cigar.
Daron, Belle’s primary political ally, sat comfortably on the leather sofa, puffing slowly and letting the smoke drift toward the ceiling. Belle sat beside him in a modest pale blue dress, her makeup meticulously applied to project an air of exhaustion and victimhood.
Grayson stood behind his desk, staring at a preliminary background report Silas had just handed him. The document highlighted a striking anomaly: a two-million-dollar wire transfer initiated by Isolde to Mount Sinai Hospital.
“It’s the talk of the financial district, Grayson,” Daron said, his voice carrying a greasy, conspiratorial weight. “Your ex-wife gets thrown out of the Lancaster estate, and suddenly she’s running high-level DARPA algorithms and throwing around millions in untraceable cash p>
P𝗗𝖥𝘀 𝗼𝗇.сo𝗆
Grayson’s fingers tightened around the edges of the report. The paper crinkled loudly.
Belle leaned forward and placed a hand over her heart, looking at Grayson with wide, sympathetic eyes.
“I heard she has been spending a great deal of time at those private military contractor clubs in D.C.,” Belle murmured softly. “You know how those defense executives are, Gray. They love a beautiful woman with a tragic divorce story p>
Daron let out a harsh, dirty laugh.
“Let’s call it what it is,” Daron sneered, tapping his cigar ash into a crystal tray. “Whatever backroom deal she cut with DARPA to get her hands on those algorithms, I guarantee it wasn’t done in a legitimate boardroom. A woman like that knows exactly what her real assets are when negotiating with military men p>
The words hung in the air like toxic gas.
Grayson’s stomach violently contracted. A wave of pure, blinding heat rushed up his neck and exploded behind his eyes.
He knew Isolde. He knew she was fiercely proud — that she would rather starve than compromise herself. His rational mind understood this with absolute certainty.
But the image Daron had painted tore through Grayson’s mind like a blade. His possessive instincts, twisted and destructive as they were, flared into an uncontrollable inferno.
Grayson crushed the report into a tight ball.
He moved so fast that Belle actually flinched. He came around the desk and stopped inches from Daron, looking down at the older man with eyes that had gone completely black.
“Shut your mouth,” Grayson whispered. His voice shook with barely contained rage. “Shut your filthy mouth right now p>
Daron’s arrogant smile vanished. He shrank back into the leather cushions, unnerved by the sheer violence radiating from the man above him.
“I am just protecting the company’s reputation,” Daron stammered, his cigar trembling between his fingers.
Belle quickly rose and placed both hands flat against Grayson’s chest, her voice dropping to a soothing murmur.
“Gray, please,” Belle cooed, her tone saturated with manufactured empathy. “Daron is just worried. Isolde had to survive somehow. Coming from her background, she probably didn’t see any other way to get that hospital money p>