Chapter 229
Isolde stopped. She looked up at him, and for one fleeting second the anger in her eyes gave way to a profound, bone-deep exhaustion.
“Because you are blind,” she said softly, each word dropping into the silence like a stone into deep water. “Because you are stupid. And because you are selfish.”
Grayson stood frozen, stunned into silence. In all his life, no one had ever spoken to him that way. No one had ever reduced him so thoroughly to three simple words.
“Move,” Isolde said.
Grayson didn’t move. He couldn’t. He stared at her, struggling to process the quiet devastation in her voice.
They stood in the narrow hallway in a standoff, the air between them dense with unsaid words and old wounds.
𝘛h𝗲 𝖻е𝗌𝗍 reа𝖽𝘪𝘯𝗴 𝖾хр𝗲𝗋𝗶еnсе о𝘯 g𝘢l𝘯о𝘷е𝗅s.с𝗈𝗺
Then a blinding flash of lightning flooded the room, followed instantly by a crack of thunder that shook the floorboards.
From the living room, a wail erupted. Kaiden jolted awake, terrified by the noise. “Mommy! Mommy Belle!” he screamed, crying out for the woman who wasn’t there.
Grayson flinched, glancing toward the living room for a fraction of a second.
Isolde seized it. She turned sideways and slipped past him, moving quickly toward the front door.
“Isolde, wait!” Grayson turned and reached out instinctively. His hand clamped down on her wrist — directly over the fresh bandage.
“Ah!” A sharp cry escaped her lips. Her grip on the vase faltered, the heavy porcelain slipping dangerously before she clutched it against her chest with her free arm, her face twisting in pain.
Grayson recoiled as though burned, snatching his hand back. “Sorry — I didn’t mean to —”
Isolde leaned against the doorframe, cold sweat breaking on her forehead. She hugged the vase tightly to her chest, her breathing ragged. When she looked at him, her eyes were full of pain and wariness.
“Don’t come near me,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare come near me again.”
She wrenched the door open and stumbled out into the corridor. The elevator was waiting. She rushed in and struck the button with her palm.
Grayson stood in the open doorway, paralyzed. He watched the metal doors slide shut, cutting her from view. He looked down at his hand. His fingertips still held the cold of her skin, and a faint, metallic trace lingered in the air — a haunting reminder of the hurt he had caused, both old and new.
Monday morning arrived with a crisp, unforgiving light that filtered through the blinds of the Orbital Systems executive office. Isolde sat at her desk, her movements careful and stiff as she adjusted the fresh bandage around her wrist.
Arland walked in carrying two cups of coffee. His eyes went immediately to her injured hand, his expression darkening.
“Grayson?” he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous chill.
Isolde shook her head, taking the coffee with her good hand. “Kaiden. But I got the vase back.”
.
.