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Chapter 697
Chapter 697:
Maxwell felt the shift in her body immediately — the sudden rigidity, the controlled stillness. His military instincts fired at once. He shifted his weight smoothly, stepping half a pace forward to place his broad frame between Isolde and the approaching threat. His blue eyes locked onto Grayson, scanning him with the cold precision of someone assessing a hostile target.
Grayson ignored Belle. He ignored Maxwell. He took one heavy, aggressive step forward, his dark eyes burning into Isolde’s face.
“Come here,” Grayson commanded, his voice a low, guttural growl saturated with sick, possessive authority.
Isolde looked at him. A wave of profound disgust moved through her.
“You are sick,” Isolde stated. Her voice was flat, cold, and dripping with contempt.
The rejection snapped the last thread of Grayson’s composure.
𝖱𝘦𝗮𝖽 t𝗁𝘦 𝗅𝗮𝘵е𝘀𝘵 𝗍𝗿𝘦𝘯𝖽s о𝗇
He lunged forward, reaching out with a large hand to seize Isolde’s bare wrist and drag her physically away from the other man.
Before his fingers could graze her skin, Maxwell moved.
Smack.
The sound of flesh striking flesh was shockingly loud in the carpeted corridor. Maxwell had brought his hand up in a blindingly fast arc, knocking Grayson’s hand away with enough force to leave a bright red mark across his knuckles.
Grayson stumbled back half a step, eyes wide with shock.
Maxwell stepped fully in front of Isolde. He towered over Grayson, chest expanded, radiating a controlled, physical menace that filled the hallway.
“Mr. Lancaster,” Maxwell said, his voice dangerously soft. “Do not ever attempt to put your hands on my companion again p>
Grayson’s face flooded purple with rage. He clenched his stinging hand into a fist.
“Your companion?” Grayson roared, his polished facade disintegrating entirely. “She is my wife p>
Belle flinched at the word. She bit her lip, her face going pale.
Maxwell did not retreat. Instead, a slow, deeply mocking smile spread across his face.
“Is she?” Maxwell asked, his tone precisely calibrated to wound. “A man in my line of work does thorough due diligence, Mr. Lancaster. Our background checks leave very little in the dark — including signed legal documents concerning marital status. On national security projects, there are no secrets p>
Grayson’s breath caught. His pupils dilated in sheer, involuntary panic.
How did this man know that? The divorce was supposed to be buried.
He looked at Isolde, betrayal burning in his eyes. He assumed she had told him. But Isolde’s own expression held a flicker of surprise — the quiet recognition that Maxwell’s military intelligence network had already mapped her history long before they shook hands.
Maxwell’s words had publicly dismantled Grayson in front of his mistress and his ex-wife. His pride lay in fragments on the carpet.
Belle tried to salvage what remained. She stepped forward and touched Grayson’s arm.
“Gray, let’s just go,” Belle said softly. “People are staring. Let them have their moment p>
Isolde’s eyes cut to Belle.
“Don’t speak to me, Belle,” Isolde said, her voice slicing through the air with surgical precision. “You are a fraud who uses PowerPoint to steal money. You belong in a federal prison, not a Michelin restaurant p>
Belle gasped and stepped back as though struck.
Grayson stood paralyzed, chest heaving, suffocating on his own impotence.
Maxwell turned to Isolde and offered his arm again with a calm, protective ease.
“Shall we?” Maxwell asked, dismissing Grayson’s existence entirely. “Our table is waiting p>