Chapter 383

Chapter 383:

It was raw, primal jealousy — and beneath it, the sudden, horrifying recognition that this other man understood her operational needs in ways he never had.

Belle stepped up beside him. She looked down and let out a vicious sneer. “Look at them. So unprofessional. She is practically drooling on him.” She slid her hand onto his tense bicep. “I guess that is how she pays her partners to stick around p>

Grayson turned his head slowly and looked at her. His eyes were completely black, filled with a cold, terrifying rage.

“Shut your mouth, Belle,” he snarled.

He wrenched his arm free and marched down the metal stairs, his heavy steel-toed boots slamming against the grating with deafening, violent crashes.

He strode directly up to Isolde and Arland, chest heaving. “If you are too fragile to walk a working floor without collapsing,” he barked, his voice laced with cruel, defensive anger, “go wait in the car. This isn’t a day spa p>

The electrolyte water had done its job. The fog was entirely gone.

Isolde pushed herself off the safety railing. She stood to her full height, spine perfectly rigid, and looked Grayson up and down with absolute disdain.

𝖠𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘃e 𝗰о𝗺𝗆𝘂𝗇𝘪𝘁𝘺 𝗼ո

“I am not fragile, Grayson,” she said, her voice cutting through the factory noise like a razor. “I just have a severe allergic reaction to hot air p>

The transition from the boiling factory floor back to the penthouse boardroom was a physical shock. The aggressive air conditioning hit Isolde’s damp skin, instantly cooling her to the core.

She walked to her seat, picked up her crystal glass of ice water, and took a long, slow sip. Her hands were perfectly steady. The electrolytes had done their work.

The heavy doors opened. Daron McKnight swaggered in carrying a thick stack of financial printouts, his chest puffed out with the self-satisfaction of a man who believed he held the winning hand.

He dropped the files onto the center of the table with a loud, theatrical thud.

“We ran a deep-dive audit on Carson Dynamics’ current financials,” Daron announced, looking directly at Isolde. “You don’t have the liquid capital to sustain this production run.” He leaned on the table, a nasty smile twisting his lips. “If the government delays their first milestone payment by even thirty days, your little startup is bankrupt p>

Arland remained standing behind Isolde’s chair. “We have already secured a bridge loan to cover the gap p>

Belle let out a sharp, condescending laugh and crossed her arms. “From whom? Some shady offshore fund? Or did you pawn your jewelry?” She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with malice. “Face reality, Isolde p>

Isolde slowly lowered her water glass. The heavy crystal met the mahogany with a sharp, echoing clink.

Grayson shifted in his large leather chair. The leather creaked in the sudden silence. He looked away, fixing his gaze on the far wall.

Belle pressed on. “Then it’s Arland’s money. Or maybe —” She shot a sly, triumphant glance at Grayson. “Maybe you are banking on that massive alimony check Grayson sends you every month p>

Isolde smiled. It was a dry, terrifying expression entirely devoid of humor.