Chapter 492

Chapter 492:

“Yes,” Sterling said, his smirk unhurried. “But my ego takes up a great deal of space. And your regret is suffocating p>

Grayson’s jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.

Sterling reached past him in one fluid, unbothered movement and took hold of the handle of her Rimowa suitcase.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering his other arm.

She looked at Grayson. He looked furious. He looked powerless.

She looked at Sterling. He looked like an exit strategy.

“We shall,” she said.

а𝘥𝖽𝗂𝗰tivе 𝘯o𝘷𝗲ls 𝘰𝗻

She stepped out of the elevator. Harper scrambled after her, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape the charged atmosphere surrounding Grayson Lancaster.

Sterling guided them not toward the rooms, but toward the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the hall.

“The car is downstairs,” he said. “But the view from here puts things in perspective, doesn’t it p>

Behind them, the elevator doors began to close. Grayson slammed his hand against the safety bar, forcing them back open.

“Isolde!” he shouted. It was a raw, ragged sound.

Sterling did not turn around. He simply guided her around the corner, shielding her with his body.

“Don’t look back, darling,” he murmured near her ear. “Pillars of salt are so last season p>

They walked away.

Her hands were trembling. She curled them into fists so Sterling wouldn’t feel it.

“You’re good at this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Rescuing damsels?” Sterling chuckled. “No. I’m good at spotting bad investments. And that man back there?” He tilted his head slightly. “He’s a sinking ship p>

The Pre-Gala event was not merely a dinner. It was an exclusive, invitation-only VIP mixer hosted by Sterling Knight himself, held on the rooftop terrace of the hotel, where the view was a billion-dollar panorama of the Manhattan skyline glittering like a spilled jewelry box against the velvet night.

But the real currency here was not the view. It was proximity to power.

Isolde wore a black sheath dress, its tailoring so precise and clean it was a statement in itself. No diamonds. No pearls. Her only accessory was the sheer, unadulterated confidence of a woman who knew her own worth.

Harper, standing beside her, let out a low whistle.

“Look at that,” she murmured, gesturing toward a glittering pyramid of crystal flutes. “The champagne tower over there is probably worth my annual salary p>

Waitstaff in crisp uniforms navigated the throng with trays of seared scallops and other delicacies.

Across the terrace, Belle and Grayson arrived. Belle was impossible to miss in a floor-length gold sequin gown — a walking beacon of desperation. She clung to Grayson’s arm, her eyes scanning the room and hunting for her target.

Sterling Knight stood at the heart of the terrace, the gravitational center of the party, surrounded by a circle of eager CEOs all vying for a moment of his time.

Then he saw Isolde.