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Chapter 725
Chapter 725:
The tapping stopped. Alistair’s eyes hardened to cold steel.
“We have a deal,” he stated. “I will mobilize the family’s shadow resources. InnoTech will not be able to buy a single screw in Silicon Valley by next week.” His tone was that of a man discussing livestock to be slaughtered. “As for Belle Escobar — she will learn what happens when you challenge the Lancaster family p>
Isolde rose from her seat and smoothed the front of her crimson dress, satisfied with the transaction.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Lancaster,” she said.
She turned and walked toward the door. As her hand touched the brass handle, Alistair spoke again.
“You are a natural capitalist, Isolde,” he said, his voice dark. “But remember the terms. This alliance exists only as long as you are a member of the Lancaster family p>
𝘈𝖽𝗱𝘪с𝘁ivе ѕ𝘵оri𝗲s on
Isolde paused. She did not turn around. A sharp, mocking smile crossed her face, hidden from his view.
“Of course,” she replied softly. “As long as the contract is valid p>
She opened the door and walked out.
Alistair remained in the smoke-filled room, fully convinced he had just chained a genius to his empire. He had no idea that the “contract” Isolde referred to was not their marriage — but the fully signed divorce agreement sitting in her lawyer’s safe. She had just exploited the ultimate information gap, successfully borrowing the Lancaster family’s sharpest knife to slit Belle’s throat.
The clock on the dashboard of the private town car read 11:45 PM.
Isolde walked into her Manhattan penthouse. The adrenaline of the gala was fading, leaving a heavy, aching exhaustion in its place.
She went straight to her bedroom, unzipped the crimson gown, and let it pool on the floor. She changed into loose silk pajamas, poured herself a generous glass of neat whiskey, and carried it out to the living room.
Harper and Arland Roth were already on the long velvet sofa. The glass coffee table was buried under printed financial reports and confidential Silicon Valley venture capital dossiers.
Isolde dropped into the armchair, tipped her head back, and swallowed the whiskey in one burning gulp. The fire in her throat cleared the lingering stench of Grayson and Alistair from her senses. She set the empty glass down with a heavy thud.
“The old monster took the bait,” she said.
Harper let out a sharp whistle and slapped her hand against the table. “Brilliant! Once Alistair unleashes his short-sellers, Belle won’t have a single penny left to defend herself. She is dead meat p>
Arland did not smile. He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, his face grim. “Alistair’s capital blockade will take at least a week to fully strangle her supply chain,” he warned. He picked up a sleek tablet and slid it across the glass table toward Isolde. “But Belle is moving much faster than we anticipated p>
Isolde looked down at the glowing screen. It displayed a highly classified, watermarked digital invitation.