Chapter 399
Chapter 399:
Grayson’s black Maybach pulled smoothly into the drop-off zone. He sat in the back seat, staring at the leather partition. He had flown back from Aspen late Sunday night. The trip had been a PR success, but a strange, heavy guilt had settled in his stomach the moment the plane touched down in New York.
He hadn’t thought about Effie once while he was on the slopes with Kaiden.
He looked down at his lap. Resting on his knees was a delicate white paper bag from a high-end French bakery in SoHo, the grease from the pastries just beginning to turn the paper translucent.
He wanted to see Effie. He wanted to prove to himself that he was still a father, despite the divorce.
He pushed the heavy car door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Fifty feet away, Isolde’s silver sedan pulled up. She stepped out of the driver’s side wearing a sharp charcoal trench coat, walked around the car, and opened the passenger door.
Effie climbed out. The little girl looked exhausted — dark circles shadowing her eyes, a lingering mark of her crying fit over the weekend. She clutched her backpack straps tightly.
Grayson adjusted his suit jacket and started toward them. “Effie,” he called, his deep voice cutting through the noise of the idling engines.
𝖢𝗁𝘪ո𝗲se ոo𝘷еl𝘴 𝘵r𝖺𝗻𝘴𝘭𝖺te𝘥 o𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗹ոоvеlѕ.𝖼𝗼𝗺
Effie froze. Her small shoulders tensed instantly. She looked up, eyes widening as she saw him approach. She glanced at the white bag in his hand, then immediately looked up at Isolde, her eyes filling with sudden, anxious panic.
Isolde moved with lethal speed.
She stepped directly in front of Effie, positioning her body as a physical, impenetrable barrier between her daughter and Grayson.
Grayson stopped three feet away, his brow furrowing with irritation. “What are you doing here?” Isolde asked. Her voice was terrifyingly calm — no anger, only absolute, freezing zero.
“I am her father,” Grayson stated, his jaw tightening. He held up the white paper bag. “I brought breakfast. I wanted to see her before class p>
Isolde did not move. She kept her eyes locked on his. “Give it to me p>
Grayson hesitated, then handed it over. “They are fresh p>
Isolde took the bag without looking at him. She opened the top and looked inside.
“Almond croissants,” she said flatly.
“From Valrhona,” Grayson nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. “The best in the city p>
Isolde closed the top of the bag. She turned her body slightly, walked two steps to her right, and stopped directly beside the large green municipal trash can on the sidewalk.
She held the bag over the opening and let go.
The pastries hit the bottom of the empty bin with a loud, sickening thud.
Grayson’s eyes went wide. The blood rushed to his face. “Are you insane?” he snapped, his voice rising and drawing the attention of several parents standing nearby. “I brought those for her p>
Isolde turned back to face him. Her eyes were completely dead.
“Effie is severely allergic to tree nuts, Grayson,” she said, her voice carrying clearly across the sidewalk. “She requires an EpiPen p>
Grayson froze. The anger drained from his face, replaced instantly by a cold, horrifying pallor. His stomach dropped. His brain scrambled for a memory, a medical file, anything.
He found nothing.