Chapter 390

Chapter 390:

Belle stumbled backward until her spine met the heavy oak door. She cradled her hand against her chest — not from pain, but from the shock of being so thoroughly outmaneuvered. Her breath came in ragged, terrified gasps.

Isolde walked past her and nodded to the woman guarding the entrance. The woman stepped aside immediately.

“Fix your makeup, Belle,” Isolde said, without looking back. “You look desperate p>

She walked out into the hallway, leaving Belle alone in the gilded cage, trembling violently.

The main dining room of the Plaza hummed with the soft clink of silver and the hushed cadence of high-stakes conversation.

Grayson stood near the massive arched windows, bourbon in hand, deep in a tense exchange with two senior partners from Goldman Sachs. He was working to secure a secondary line of credit for the InnoTech expansion.

Then Belle burst out of the hallway leading to the restrooms.

Her face was flushed an ugly, blotchy red. Her eyes were wide and frantic. She practically sprinted across the dining room, drawing stares from every table she passed, and slammed into Grayson’s side with both hands closing around his forearm.

“We need to talk,” she gasped, her voice shrill enough to make the Goldman partners raise their eyebrows. “Right now p>

𝗥𝘰𝗺а𝘯𝗰𝖾 𝗻o𝘃elѕ 𝗈𝘯

Grayson felt a surge of intense irritation. He forced a tight, apologetic smile for the bankers. “Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen p>

He took Belle by the elbow and steered her firmly into a secluded alcove near the coat check, well out of earshot of the main floor.

“What is wrong with you?” he hissed, his jaw clenched. “You are making a scene p>

“She threatened me!” Belle cried, her voice trembling. “Isolde — in the bathroom p>

She shoved her right arm toward his chest and pulled back the sleeve of her silk blouse. “She provoked me! She recorded me p>

Grayson looked down. There was no mark, no evidence of any struggle — just Belle’s pale, trembling skin. He lifted his eyes slowly from her wrist to her panicked face.

“Did Isolde attack you?” he asked, his voice cold and analytical. “Did she initiate physical violence p>

“Yes — no — she baited me!” Belle shrieked, tears spilling over her lashes. “She is completely unhinged! A violent psycho! You have to void the manufacturing contract right now — call the lawyers p>

Grayson didn’t reach for his phone. He turned his head and looked out across the main dining room.

Through the crowd, he found Isolde.

She was standing near the center ice sculpture, laughing softly at something a prominent state senator had said. Her white suit was immaculate. Her posture was relaxed and elegant, radiating absolute, untouchable authority. She did not look like a woman who had just lost control in a bathroom.

Grayson turned back to Belle. The contrast was jarring.

“She doesn’t look unhinged, Belle,” he said flatly.

“I am telling you the truth!” Belle sobbed, clutching his lapels. “She set me up p>

Grayson exhaled a long, heavy breath. The constant emotional manipulation, the endless drama — it was suffocating. And it was bad for business.