Chapter 249
“No,” she said, staring blankly out the windshield. “He is a Lancaster. They survive everything.”
She put the car in drive and hit the gas.
As they sped away from the club, a single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She hated him. She hated his blindness. She hated his selfishness. But seeing him lying broken in the dirt had still terrified her — and she hated herself for feeling that terror. She wiped the tear away aggressively, her eyes hardening into steel.
Never again, she promised herself.
Inside the speeding ambulance, Grayson slipped back into unconsciousness. His right hand was clenched into a tight fist.
Trapped between his fingers was a small, torn piece of red fabric — torn from Isolde’s jumpsuit when he tackled her out of the way. The rough crimson cloth was the last thing he remembered clutching before the blackness took him.
The VIP wing of New York-Presbyterian Hospital was dead silent, save for the sharp, angry clicking of high heels against the polished linoleum.
Victoria Lancaster stormed down the hallway, her face flushed with fury, her designer handbag swinging aggressively by her side. She stopped outside the surgical suite. Belle was sitting on a leather bench, holding a cup of water, a clean white bandage taped neatly over the scrape on her cheekbone.
Victoria glared down at her, then looked wildly up and down the empty corridor.
“Where is she?” Victoria demanded, her voice echoing off the walls. “Where is Isolde? My son is in emergency surgery because he saved her life, and she is not even here?”
𝖲𝖺v𝘦 𝘆𝘰𝗎𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘃о𝘳i𝘁𝘦 𝗇𝗼𝘃𝖾ls o𝘯 𝗀𝖺lnо𝘷e𝘭s.𝖼𝘰𝘮
Belle looked up, her eyes brimming with fresh, manufactured tears. “She left, Mrs. Lancaster,” she sobbed softly, dabbing her eyes. “She said she didn’t owe the Lancaster family anything. She just took Effie and drove away.”
Victoria’s face turned a violent shade of red. Her hands shook with rage. “Unbelievable! I always knew that woman was cold! A girl from a bankrupt family, no class, no loyalty! She is a monster!”
The soft ding of the elevator interrupted her tirade.
The heavy metal doors slid open and Matriarch Beatrice Lancaster stepped out, leaning heavily on her silver-handled cane, supported by her head butler. Her face was carved from granite. She struck the rubber tip of her cane against the floor.
Thwack.
“Silence,” Beatrice commanded, her voice low but carrying absolute authority. “This is a hospital, Victoria. Not a fish market.”
Victoria immediately lowered her voice, though her anger remained. “Mother, you have to see this. Grayson is bleeding on an operating table, and Isolde didn’t even bother to show up!”
Beatrice turned her sharp, calculating gaze onto Belle. Belle shrank back against the bench, suddenly looking very small.
“I have already spoken to the driver,” Beatrice said coldly. “I know exactly what happened. Someone decided to show off on a horse she couldn’t handle and nearly got my great-granddaughter killed.”
Belle opened her mouth to defend herself, but the look in Beatrice’s eyes shut her up instantly.
.