Chapter 312
“My notary is waiting in the lobby conference room,” she said, her voice flat. “Sign this, and then we go downstairs to have it witnessed and stamped. Now.”
Grayson let out a dark, condescending chuckle. He took his time, reaching for his own silver pen from the desk set and deliberately ignoring hers.
He looked up at her before signing.
“How is the job hunt going?” he asked, a cruel smirk pulling at his mouth. “Do you need me to write you a letter of recommendation for a secretarial pool?”
Isolde stared at him. Her eyes were completely flat.
“Just sign the paper, Grayson.”
He signed his name with a slow flourish and tossed the pen onto the desk. “There,” he said. “Now get out of my office.”
Isolde reached out and picked up the document.
As she drew her hand back, her gaze snagged on something resting on the small side table beside the leather sofa.
F𝗂nd 𝘯𝗈v𝗲l P𝗗𝗙𝘴 o𝗻 𝗴𝖺𝗅ոov𝖾𝗹𝘴.c𝗼𝗺
A silk scarf.
A vintage Hermès scarf, printed with a rare equestrian pattern in deep blues and golds, draped casually over the handle of a designer handbag.
Belle’s handbag.
Isolde went still. The breath caught silently in her throat.
Isolde stared at the silk scarf.
A flicker of memory, sharp and unwelcome, cut through her composure. She remembered the thrill of the hunt, the auction in Paris, the exorbitant sum she had paid for that exact vintage pattern.
It was the anniversary gift she had given Grayson two years ago.
Beside the scarf, resting on the glass side table, sat a tube of bright red lipstick — Belle’s signature shade. And on the corner of the desk, where a photograph of Isolde and Effie had once stood, there was now a silver-framed photo of Kaiden playing in the park.
Isolde slowly looked up from the scarf and met Grayson’s eyes.
“You moved her in fast,” she said. Her voice was terrifyingly quiet.
Grayson shrugged, adjusting his collar, his expression completely unbothered. “It is my office, Isolde. I can have whoever I want in here.”
Isolde pointed a steady finger at the side table.
“You gave her my scarf.”
The betrayal wasn’t about the money. It was about the complete erasure of her existence.
Grayson glanced at the scarf and sighed, his tone dismissive. “Belle found it in the boxes of things you didn’t take when you moved out. She liked the pattern. I didn’t see the harm.”
“I left it behind because it was a gift to you,” Isolde said, her voice losing none of its chilling calm. “It was an anniversary gift.”
She didn’t move toward it. She didn’t raise her voice. Instead, a small, pitying smile touched her lips.
“How predictable,” she said softly. “You’re as unoriginal in your affairs as you are in your business dealings. Keep it. It looks as cheap on her as it did on you.”
Grayson’s face flushed dark red. He crossed the room toward her.
“You are acting like a child,” he hissed. “You are petty and vindictive.”
“No,” Isolde said, stepping back and putting distance between them. “I am clean.”
She turned toward the heavy oak door.
“Wait,” Grayson commanded.
.