Chapter 512
Chapter 512:
Beatrice made a satisfied sound, relief evident in her voice. “Good. That is as it should be. Put him on the phone — I want to tell him to pay more attention to you and Effie p>
Isolde’s heart lurched. A faint sweat broke across her back. She scrambled to cover the lie.
“He just stepped away to the restroom. He can’t come to the phone just now p>
Beatrice accepted this without suspicion and spoke gently. “Have him call me back as soon as he returns. And don’t forget to bring Effie to the family gathering in the Hamptons next week. I miss my little granddaughter p>
Rеco𝘮𝗺𝗲𝘯d t𝗼 уо𝗎𝗿 𝘧𝗋𝗶е𝗇𝘥𝘴
The line went dead.
Isolde stood holding the phone, her palm damp, her mind turning rapidly over what she had just done. She had told a significant lie. If Grayson refused to play along, or if the old woman checked behind her back, it would unravel everything — breaking Beatrice’s heart and threatening the quiet life she and Effie had built.
She pocketed her phone, pressed down her unease, and walked back inside. Without a word, she picked up her cocktail and drained it in a single swallow. The sharp burn slid down her throat but did nothing to settle the restlessness underneath.
Arland had been watching her. He stood immediately, concern plain on his face.
“What happened? You look pale p>
Isolde forced a thin smile, her eyes dim with exhaustion. “Nothing serious. I just have to keep playing a role I never wanted. But apparently I have no choice p>
At that moment, the door opened quietly. A waiter bowed from the threshold.
“Forgive the interruption. A gentleman outside has sent a bottle of Dom Pérignon, specifically for the birthday lady this evening p>
Harper’s eyes lit up. She turned to Arland with an impressed, teasing grin. “Smooth move. I had no idea you had this planned p>
Arland shook his head firmly. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t order any champagne p>
Isolde’s gaze fixed on the bottle. There was no card. No name. No message of any kind.
A cold, sinking feeling of dread settled over her. If it wasn’t Arland, then who? And if it was Grayson — that meant he had been nearby this entire time, watching her every move.
The warm light and music inside the private room had begun to feel suffocating. The uneasy feeling in Isolde’s chest refused to settle. She made a quick excuse about needing the restroom and slipped out, her real intention being to move close to the main hall and quietly identify who had sent the unmarked champagne. She was tired of feeling watched without knowing by whom.
Rather than heading toward the restroom, she drifted to the railing of the second-floor balcony, gripping the cold metal as she looked down at the bright lobby below, scanning the crowd methodically for the face that had been nagging at her instincts.
A small commotion broke out near the main entrance. The scattered guests turned to look. The waitstaff straightened involuntarily. The entire atmosphere shifted in an instant.
Isolde followed the disturbance, and her heart dropped.