Chapter 337
Belle walked out wearing a silk robe — garish, leopard-print, and screaming of new money. All of Isolde’s things, her books, her throws, the quiet personal touches that had once made the space hers, were gone, replaced by Belle’s flashy, tasteless clutter.
Belle screamed when she saw her. She clutched the robe tight.
“What are you doing here?! You broke in!”
“I own this apartment, Belle,” Isolde said, her voice dangerously calm. “You are the intruder.”
“Gray said it’s ours!” Belle stammered. “He said this was part of the marital assets, that his lawyers were handling it!”
“His lawyers made a mistake,” Isolde said. “The lien is gone. The deed is solely in my name.”
Grayson emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water still dripping from his hair. He froze. He looked at Isolde. Then he looked at Belle in the tacky robe, standing in the middle of Isolde’s former sanctuary.
He saw the look on Isolde’s face. It wasn’t anger. It was disgust.
𝖣𝗂sс𝗼𝗏𝗲r 𝗵𝘪d𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗴e𝘮𝘴 𝗈𝗇 𝗀а𝗹ոо𝘷e𝗅s.𝖼𝘰𝘮
“Isolde,” he began, raising his hands. “We needed a place near the office. The commute from the estate was too long—”
“There are hotels,” she cut him off. “This is my asset. My name is on the deed.”
She pulled out her phone and held up the screen, the contact for the building’s head of security clearly visible.
“I’m calling security to have you escorted out as trespassers,” she said, loudly and clearly. “A police report will be filed afterward. It will make the evening news.”
Grayson stepped forward. “Isolde, stop. Don’t call them.”
“This is trespassing,” she said, her finger hovering over the button.
“We’ll leave,” Grayson said quickly, looking thoroughly humiliated. “Just — give us an hour to pack.”
Isolde lowered the phone. “You have ten minutes.”
She looked at Belle. “And don’t bother taking any of this new junk. It goes in the trash.”
Kaiden ran into the room, clutching his Nintendo Switch. “Mommy? Why is the witch here?”
Grayson added quickly, “His fever broke this morning,” as though it justified something.
Isolde looked at the boy. The boy who had kicked her daughter. The boy who had lied without flinching. She felt nothing — no anger, no bitterness. Only a vast, cold indifference.
“The witch is evicting you, Kaiden,” she said. “Pack your toys.”
Grayson threw clothes into a duffel bag with frantic efficiency, desperate to be gone before this became a spectacle.
Belle was crying now, her tears loud and hysterical. “This isn’t fair! Grayson promised me! This is supposed to be our home!”
“A promise from a liar isn’t worth much, Belle,” Isolde said. “Promises don’t supersede property deeds.”
Ten minutes later, they were scrambling out the door, dragging suitcases behind them, looking like refugees from a failed coup.
Isolde closed the door behind them and turned the deadbolt.
Silence returned to the apartment.
She stood alone in the quiet, looking out at the city view she had once loved. Then her gaze dropped to the leopard-print robe Belle had thrown on the floor in her rush to change.
Isolde picked it up with two fingers, holding it at arm’s length, as if it were contaminated.
.
.