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Chapter 739
Chapter 739:
The countdown to total destruction had officially entered its final twenty-four hours.
The closing bell of the Nasdaq echoed through the financial district. InnoTech’s stock price locked in an eight percent gain. The catastrophic crisis had been violently suffocated by cash.
Inside the InnoTech penthouse, the air was thick with expensive perfume and the scent of premature victory.
Cheryl held a crystal flute of Dom Pérignon, the deep wrinkles around her eyes crinkling as she laughed and paced across the plush carpet. “I told you!” she gloated, taking a large gulp. “I told you Grayson would never let you fall! He just dropped a hundred and fifty million dollars to save your skin. You practically own the Lancaster empire now p>
Belle sat in her oversized leather CEO chair, twirling a limited-edition Montblanc pen between her manicured fingers. The terror of the morning had evaporated completely, replaced by a toxic, bloated arrogance.
She scrolled through her phone. The same socialites who had hung up on her hours ago were now flooding her inbox with heart emojis and hollow apologies. Belle’s lips curled into a vicious, triumphant sneer.
“Do you see this, Mom?” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “This is what real power looks like. Isolde thought a few leaked photos could destroy me. She is so pathetic. She doesn’t understand how the real world works p>
Cheryl leaned over the desk, eyes gleaming with predatory greed. “Listen to me, Belle,” she whispered harshly. “Tomorrow is your golden ticket. When you present that tech to the Pentagon, make sure Grayson is sitting right there. Once the military validates you, you force him to publicly claim you. You make sure Isolde is permanently erased from his life p>
Belle’s fingers tightened around the expensive pen. She remembered Grayson’s cold, terrifying threat on the phone — but her massive ego buried the memory instantly. She was entirely convinced the stolen algorithm was flawless.
She stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the Manhattan traffic like a queen surveying her kingdom. “Call my stylist,” she said through the intercom. “I need the white Chanel suit prepped for tomorrow. I want to look perfect for the generals p>
She returned to her desk and opened her encrypted laptop. She stared at the complex fluid dynamics presentation Grayson had given her. She did not understand a single equation on the screen, but she smiled anyway. It looked complicated enough to fool anyone.
𝖩𝗼і𝗻 𝘵𝗵𝗼𝗎𝘀𝖺ո𝘥ѕ о𝗳 fа𝗻𝘴 𝘰ո 𝗀𝗮l𝗇𝗼𝗏е𝘭ѕ.𝖼𝘰m
Driven by a sudden, overwhelming urge to gloat, Belle picked up her phone and typed a text to Isolde.
Thanks for the free PR stunt. You saved me millions in marketing. See you at the Pentagon hearing tomorrow. I can’t wait to show you who really owns this city.
She hit send and let out a sharp, hysterical laugh.
Two hundred miles away, in a high-security hotel suite in Washington, D.C., Isolde had just stepped out of the shower.