Chapter 436

Chapter 436:

Isolde stared at the old woman. There was no threat in her voice. No hidden barb. In a house full of vipers, Beatrice was offering something that resembled concern — heavy, controlling, Lancaster-style concern, but concern nonetheless. It was the only kindness she had ever been shown here. Refusing it felt like throwing a lifeline back into a churning sea.

“Alright, Beatrice,” Isolde said, her shoulders easing slightly. “If it will make you feel better p>

The Guest Room / Medical Bay.

Isolde sat on the examination table, the crisp paper crinkling beneath her. She felt weary and exposed. The air was thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic — a smell she associated with hospitals, not homes — and it made her stomach churn.

Dr. Evans, the family physician who had treated the Lancasters for decades, looked apologetic. His tired eyes held a familiar sympathy that did little to soothe her.

“I’m sorry, Isolde,” he murmured, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her arm. “She was very worried p>

“Just get it over with,” Isolde said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. It was her only defense.

𝘙e𝖺d 𝖿𝗋𝘦𝘦 n𝘰𝘷𝘦𝗹s 𝗈𝘯

He drew blood — a quick, sharp sting of the needle. He checked her pupils with a penlight that felt like an intrusion, then ran a series of cognitive tests, asking her to repeat number sequences and identify patterns. With each correct answer, she felt a bitter taste in her mouth, as if she were a trained animal performing for a hostile audience.

Belle leaned against the doorframe, sipping a glass of red wine and watching the whole thing with a smirk. The deep crimson liquid swirled in the crystal glass, a stark contrast to the room’s clinical white.

“Trying to prove you’re not crazy?” Belle asked, her voice a silken taunt. “Too bad. That would have been a fun scandal p>

Isolde ignored her. She stared at the ceiling, counting the tiny, imperceptible cracks in the plaster, dissociating from the humiliation of Belle’s presence.

“Well?” Beatrice asked from the hallway.

“She is safe, Mrs. Lancaster,” Dr. Evans reported. “Her vitals are stable. She doesn’t have a concussion, or any lingering neurological issues. Just some bruising from the seatbelt p>

Beatrice walked in, a look of genuine relief on her face. “Good. I’m glad to hear it p>

“Can I go now?” Isolde asked, hopping off the table, eager to escape the suffocating room.

“Yes, you may go,” Beatrice said.

Isolde buttoned her blouse and walked out, pulling Effie close to her side.

“Let’s go,” Isolde said.

They reached the foyer just as the front door swung open. A gust of cold, damp air swept in.

Grayson walked through, leaning on a sleek black cane with his left hand, his face etched with pain, his arm still in the heavy sling. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his brow despite the chill.

He stopped when he saw Isolde. The air crackled with sudden tension.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his gaze flicking from her to the medical bag in Dr. Evans’s hand.

“Ask your grandmother,” Isolde said, her voice tight with suppressed frustration. “She was concerned after the accident and insisted I get a full medical workup p>

Grayson’s face darkened. He looked up the stairs at Beatrice, his jaw rigid.

“Grandmother,” Grayson said, his voice strained. “We talked about your methods p>