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Chapter 790
Chapter 790:
In the shadows, Grayson gripped the edge of a cocktail table so hard his knuckles turned white. He stared at Isolde, his chest heaving with rapid, shallow breaths. The woman he had slept beside for five years—the woman he had dismissed as a fragile dependent—was a stranger to him. He had never known her at all. He had thrown away a god.
Alistair Lancaster closed his eyes. The deep lines on his face seemed to age ten years in a single second. He understood now that the Lancaster family hadn’t merely lost a wife. They had permanently alienated a titan.
Warren stepped back from the podium and turned to Isolde with a sharp, respectful nod.
“Chief Engineer Carson,” he said, his tone shifting to professional deference. “The floor is yours to handle the remaining civilian matters p>
He stepped down, transferring the absolute authority of the room to her.
Isolde slowly turned her head.
𝖭𝖾w 𝘄𝘦𝖾𝗸𝗅𝗒 𝗰𝗁a𝗉𝘁е𝗿𝘀 𝘰n 𝗴𝖺l𝗻𝘰𝘷е𝗹ѕ.𝘤𝗼𝗺
She locked her eyes onto Belle.
Belle looked as though she were staring at the Grim Reaper. The federal countersuit she had filed an hour ago was no longer a legal strategy. It was a signed confession to a federal crime.
Isolde began to walk toward her.
The crowd parted in absolute silence.
Every click of her heels crushed what remained of Belle’s sanity beneath it.
The silence in the banquet hall was thick and suffocating.
Belle Escobar stood in the center of the room, her chest heaving violently. Her breath came in harsh, ragged gasps that sounded like tearing paper.
She stared at Isolde walking toward her. Her mind rejected reality with a desperate, animal ferocity. If she accepted this, she was finished.
“I don’t believe it!” Belle suddenly shrieked.
The sound was piercing—a hysterical scream that made several guests physically flinch. She whipped her head toward Secretary Warren, her wild, bloodshot eyes locking onto him. It was the desperate, pathetic flailing of a drowning woman clinging to her Ivy League snobbery because it was the only piece of driftwood left in the ocean.
Warren looked at Belle. His expression did not change. He regarded her with the cold, clinical detachment of a scientist observing an insect.
“Miss Escobar,” Warren said, his voice completely flat. “Ms. Carson’s academic records are classified at the highest level of national security. You do not possess the clearance to view them p>
The words slammed into Belle like a brick wall. The academic attack route was instantly and permanently sealed.
Alistair Lancaster stepped forward, his face a mask of cold, ruthless survival.
“Secretary Warren represents the Pentagon,” his deep voice boomed across the room, cutting cleanly through Belle’s hysteria. “To question him is to question the United States military p>
He turned his cold, dead eyes toward Belle.
“Let me be absolutely clear,” Alistair announced to the room. “The Lancaster family will fully and aggressively cooperate with federal authorities to investigate the true origins of InnoTech’s intellectual property p>
It was a public execution. Alistair was severing the infected limb to save the body—throwing Belle to the wolves without hesitation.
All the blood drained from Belle’s face. Her lips turned a pale, sickly blue. She was completely alone.
The absolute terror snapped the last thread of her sanity.