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Chapter 689
Chapter 689:
“I know,” Grayson replied. “I just handed her enough rope to hang herself. When she fails that first audit, she will owe me sixty million dollars she does not have. She will be entirely, legally bound to me. I will own her p>
He adjusted his cuffs.
“And with Belle completely under my thumb,” Grayson whispered to the glass, “I will have a ruthless, disposable weapon to aim directly at Isolde’s new life. She will learn there is absolutely no escape from my reach p>
The VIP lounge of Mount Sinai Hospital was a sanctuary of hushed voices, thick carpets, and sterile luxury.
Isolde stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the grey morning sky. She wore a tailored charcoal cashmere coat over a simple black turtleneck. The dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed the exhaustion of the past few days.
Dr. Julian Thorne stood beside her, holding a sleek silver tablet, his long fingers moving through complex medical charts.
“The Swiss medical team has reviewed Arthur’s latest blood panels,” Julian said, his voice a low, steady rumble that carried easily in the quiet room. “They are preparing the isolation suite. The flight will be taxing on his system, but the MARS stabilization held p>
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Isolde turned to look at him. Sharing the small screen of the tablet had brought their shoulders close to touching.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Julian,” Isolde said softly. The rigid, defensive posture she carried everywhere else had melted away in his presence. She offered him a small, genuine smile.
Julian looked up from the screen. His dark eyes locked onto hers. He didn’t step back.
“You don’t need to thank me, Isolde,” he replied, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second before returning to her eyes. “I protect my patients. And their families p>
The air between them thickened with a quiet, undeniable tension — an intellectual intimacy built on competence and mutual respect.
Outside the lounge, in the wide marble corridor, the elevator doors chimed open.
Victoria Lancaster stepped out, flanked by two massive private security guards. She wore a full-length mink coat and oversized Chanel sunglasses, heading toward the elite anti-aging clinic on the same floor.
As she passed the VIP lounge, she glanced through the one-way glass.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
She saw Isolde. She saw the tall, handsome doctor standing entirely too close to her. She saw the soft smile on Isolde’s face — a smile she had never once directed at Grayson.
Victoria’s mind instantly twisted the image into something grotesque. The rumors she had heard at the country club flooded back. A vicious, self-righteous fury rose in her chest. She saw a clear opportunity to destroy Isolde publicly and clear the path for Belle.
Victoria pushed open the heavy glass door of the lounge.
The sharp, aggressive clack of her heels against the hardwood floor shattered the room’s quiet intimacy.
Isolde and Julian turned simultaneously.
The moment Isolde saw her former mother-in-law, the soft smile vanished. Her eyes turned to chips of dead, grey ice. Her spine snapped straight.
Victoria marched directly toward them, pulling off her sunglasses, her eyes burning with malicious satisfaction.