Chapter 254
Isolde held up her right hand and extended her pinky finger, the movement stiff and careful. “We are going to make a deal. From tonight on, we are never going to beg anyone for their love again. Because Mommy is going to give you double the love. I will be your mother and your father.”
Effie’s eyes widened slightly. “Double?”
“Double,” Isolde promised, her voice fierce. “We are going to be so strong, and so happy, that the people who ignored us will spend the rest of their lives regretting it.”
Effie gave a watery smile. She reached out her tiny hand and hooked her pinky around Isolde’s.
“Pinky swear,” Effie whispered.
“Pinky swear,” Isolde repeated.
An hour later, Effie was fast asleep in her bed.
Isolde walked out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind her. The softness in her eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, hard calculation.
𝗠𝗈𝘀𝗍 rеа𝘥 𝘁𝗁іѕ 𝘄𝘦ek o𝘯 𝘨а𝗅𝘯𝗈𝘃еlѕ.𝗰𝗼𝘮
She walked into her study, sat down at the desk, and opened her heavy, encrypted laptop. The screen glowed in the dark room, displaying a highly confidential letter of intent from Vanguard Systems.
She had hesitated for weeks. Accepting this contract meant diving deep into classified Department of Defense projects — long hours and less time with Effie. But she needed power. She needed capital. She needed a weapon big enough to crush the Lancaster empire.
Isolde placed her fingers on the keyboard and typed a short, coded response into a secure messaging portal, using a key only she and her contact possessed: Vanguard initiative is greenlit. Await signal.
She hit send.
Across the city, in the quiet VIP hospital room, Grayson’s phone buzzed on the floor.
He groaned, leaning over the edge of the bed to pick it up. His ribs screamed in protest. He unlocked the screen. It was an audio message from Effie’s iPad.
Grayson’s heart skipped a beat. He tapped play.
“Daddy,” Effie’s small voice came through the speaker. “I hope you get better soon. Mommy and I are going to be fine by ourselves.”
The audio cut off.
Grayson stared at the screen. The words were polite, but the tone was completely wrong. There was no begging. There was no asking when he was coming home. It was the voice of a child saying goodbye.
A sudden, icy panic gripped his chest. It felt like sand slipping through his fingers — impossible to catch.
The morning sun sliced through the hospital blinds, casting harsh lines across Grayson’s bed.
Belle sat in the chair beside him, a small paring knife in her hand, carefully peeling an apple and making sure the red skin came off in one long, perfect ribbon. She was playing the role of the devoted partner flawlessly.
Grayson ignored her. He scrolled through the financial news on his tablet, his brow furrowed. His phone hadn’t buzzed once. Isolde was truly acting as if he didn’t exist.
The heavy door swung open. Daron McKnight strolled in, carrying a massive, overly expensive fruit basket. “Well, well,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Looks like our hero is recovering nicely. And Belle is playing nurse. How domestic.”
Belle offered a shy, practiced smile. “Daron, stop teasing. It’s the least I can do.”