Chapter 237
She scanned the crowd. Belle was nowhere to be seen — likely in the powder room touching up her makeup, or working the room with other influential guests.
Grayson was sitting alone in the corner of the VIP section, staring blankly at his phone.
Isolde walked straight to him and slapped the manila folder down onto the linen tablecloth.
“Sign it. Final confirmation regarding property division.”
Grayson’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Here? Now? You really know how to pick your moments, Isolde.”
𝗔c𝘁𝗶𝘃e 𝘤om𝘮𝘶𝗻𝘪𝗍𝗒 𝗼𝗻 𝘨а𝘭n𝘰𝗏𝘦𝗅ѕ.𝗰om
“Any moment without you in it is a good moment,” Isolde said, her voice flat with contempt. “Sign it. This is the final confirmation of the asset division.”
Grayson frowned, reached out, and flipped the folder open. His eyes moved across the legal text. He stopped at the bottom of the first page.
He read it again.
She was asking for the vintage car. She was asking for The Tear of Time vase.
And nothing else.
Zero shares of SkyLine. Zero alimony. Zero claim to the Lancaster trust.
Grayson’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. A hot spike of insulted pride pierced his chest.
“What kind of game is this?” he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Walking away with nothing? Are you trying to play the martyr for the press?”
“I’m trying to buy out every single memory I have of you,” Isolde said, leaning closer, her eyes burning into his. “I don’t want a single cent of your money.”
Grayson stood abruptly. His chair scraped loudly across the floor.
“Dirty money?” Grayson hissed, his chest heaving. “That money fed you and clothed you for five years while you sat at home doing nothing!”
“Gray…”
A weak, trembling voice cut between them.
Isolde looked up. Belle was walking toward them, clutching her stomach, her face pale, her lips pressed tightly together. She looked as though she might collapse.
She stumbled forward and leaned heavily against Grayson’s chest. “Gray — my stomach hurts so much. I think it was the oysters from the appetizer tray.”
Grayson’s anger vanished in an instant. His hands flew to Belle’s shoulders, gripping her steady.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked, his voice thick with panic. “Is it a sharp pain?”
Belle whimpered, burying her face in his tuxedo jacket. “It hurts so bad. Please — I want to go to the hospital.” She cast a glance at Isolde over his shoulder. “Can you please not bother Gray when he’s busy?”
Isolde looked at Belle and said nothing. Ten minutes ago, Belle had been downing champagne and laughing loudly with the board members. The performance was pitiful.
“It takes exactly ten seconds to sign your name, Grayson,” Isolde said, tapping the paper with her index finger.
Grayson’s head snapped toward her. His eyes were full of disgust.
He reached out and shoved the folder away.
“Can’t you see she’s in pain?” Grayson snapped. “When did you become so completely cold-blooded, Isolde?”
The folder slid off the edge of the table. The papers spilled out and scattered across the carpeted floor.
.
.