Chapter 236
She stood up. Her palms were damp, but her voice was steady. “Mr. Cross, you are misinformed. I am sitting at this table because of my technical expertise.”
Nathaniel waved a dismissive hand without looking at her. “Expertise? All I see is a chaotic personal life bleeding into a boardroom.”
Isolde looked across the table.
Grayson was watching her. He knew the truth. He knew she was Sophia. He had seen the signature with his own eyes just days ago.
Tell him, she thought, her gaze locking onto Grayson’s. Just tell him the truth.
Grayson opened his mouth. His gaze moved between Isolde’s defiant posture and Arland’s protective proximity. A bitter, unexpected wave of jealousy twisted in his gut — sharp and ugly. He had seen how Arland looked at her, the quiet admiration that required no performance. He knew she was brilliant. But to defend her now, to reveal her true identity, would be to elevate her in front of everyone. To validate her partnership with Arland. To openly confess that he had cast a diamond aside.
The thought was unbearable.
Grayson closed his mouth. He leaned back in his chair.
“Nathaniel is a traditional man,” Grayson said, his voice smooth and devoid of mercy. “And this is a professional event. Perhaps personal matters should be handled with more discretion.”
The words struck Isolde like a blow to the stomach.
He was throwing her to the wolves. He wasn’t just letting her drown — he was holding her head under, all to soothe his own bruised ego and punish Arland.
𝖳h𝘰u𝘀𝗮n𝗱𝘴 𝗼𝘧 rea𝖽𝘦𝘳s 𝗼𝗇 𝗀𝖺𝘭𝘯𝗼v𝖾lѕ.с𝗈𝗆
Belle raised a hand to cover her mouth, her eyes dancing with malicious delight. “He’s right, Isolde. Maybe you should just go home. The corporate world is a bit too complicated.”
Isolde’s throat burned with the effort of holding back her rage. Her fingers twitched with the urge to grab the water glass in front of her and hurl it across the table.
She took a slow, deep breath.
“Mr. Cross,” Isolde said, her voice dropping to a deadly calm. “Time will prove just how laughable your prejudice is.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She turned on her heel and walked away from the table, heading straight for the glass doors of the terrace.
Her spine was perfectly straight. Her red dress flowed behind her like a banner of war.
Grayson watched her go. He looked down at his hand.
He was gripping his glass so hard his thumb had left a greasy smudge on the crystal.
The night air on the terrace was biting.
Isolde leaned against the stone balustrade, gripping the cold marble until her fingers ached. She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow.
She would not let them break her. Not tonight. Not ever again.
She reached into her clutch and pulled out a folded manila envelope — the supplementary clause for the divorce agreement. Since Grayson was here, and since he wanted to play dirty, she would end this right now.
She pushed off the balcony and walked back into the ballroom.
.