Chapter 286
Isolde turned to face him fully. She reached into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out the heavy black metal key card that granted access to the penthouse elevator. She held it out between them.
“Poverty?” A small, cold smile touched her lips. “I just bought my freedom in cash, Grayson. You are the one who is poor. You just don’t know it yet.”
Grayson frowned, confused. He didn’t take the card.
Isolde dropped it. It struck the hardwood floor with a sharp clatter.
“And regarding Effie,” Isolde continued, stepping closer, invading his space. “She is infinitely safer in a drafty construction zone than she will ever be near your ‘friend’ Belle.”
Grayson’s face hardened. “Leave Belle out of this. Belle loves Effie. She tries so hard to connect with her.”
A surge of pure disgust churned through Isolde’s stomach.
𝗠о𝗋𝗲 𝘯o𝗏els o𝘯 g𝖺𝘭𝗻𝗈𝘃𝖾ls.𝖼𝘰𝗆
“Her love is a performance,” Isolde said, her voice dripping with contempt. “It’s a prop for her Instagram. And the curtain is closing.”
Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Four burly men in moving company uniforms walked into the apartment.
“Ms. Carson?” the foreman asked, holding a clipboard. “We’re ready to load.”
“Take everything with a blue sticker,” Isolde instructed.
The men immediately began hauling boxes toward the freight elevator.
Grayson stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by chaos, feeling completely isolated — an intruder in his own home. He watched Isolde gently help Ellyn up from the sofa. He watched them walk toward the elevator.
“Isolde,” Grayson called out. It wasn’t a command this time. It sounded almost like a plea.
Isolde guided her mother into the elevator car. She didn’t look back. The steel doors slid shut, cutting off his view of her face.
Grayson stood alone in the massive, echoing penthouse. The silence was deafening. He looked at the floor. He kicked a discarded strip of packing tape.
His chest felt tight. A strange panic was clawing at his throat.
He pulled out his phone, his hands slightly unsteady, and dialed Belle’s number. She answered immediately.
“Gray? Are you okay?”
“They’re gone,” Grayson said. His voice sounded hollow. “Come over.”
Two days later, the Carson Estate was a symphony of chaos. The sound of power drills and hammers echoed through the high ceilings, and dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the tall, uncurtained windows.
Isolde stood in the center of the grand foyer, wearing a hard hat and reviewing a blueprint with the general contractor.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and wiped the plaster dust off the screen. It was a text from Grayson.
Taking Effie for the afternoon. Don’t worry. Will have her back by dinner.
Isolde frowned. A knot of anxiety formed instantly in her stomach. The divorce papers were filed, but the temporary custody hearing wasn’t until next week. Legally, she couldn’t stop him from taking his daughter.
She typed back, her thumbs hitting the screen harder than necessary.
Fine. Be careful with her wrist. It’s still tender.
She hit send and shoved the phone back into her pocket, unable to shake the bad feeling settling over her.
.
.