Chapter 515

Chapter 515:

Effie didn’t see him until she was nearly upon him. She stumbled to a halt just in front of his legs, catching herself at the last second.

Grayson snapped out of his thoughts and looked down. His body went still the moment he saw her. Those clear, bright eyes were identical to Isolde’s. The shape of her face mirrored his own childhood features. His heart lurched sharply.

Effie looked up at him, and her small smile disappeared the instant she recognized who he was. Her round eyes widened.

“Bad Daddy,” she said clearly.

𝗨р𝗱𝗮tes еve𝘳y 𝘸𝖾𝘦k oո

That small, matter-of-fact phrase drove into Grayson’s chest like a thin needle, slow and precise. He stubbed out his cigarette and knelt down, his voice coming out soft and tentative in a way he barely recognized.

“Effie p>

Effie flinched back a step. Her small hands balled into fists at her sides. She stared at him with unguarded wariness, her brow furrowed.

“Uncle Arland says don’t talk to strangers p>

Stranger.

The word was light. It landed like a boulder. A suffocating wave of regret crashed through him — he had become a stranger to his own daughter.

The hallway went quiet and still. Then the men’s restroom door opened and Arland stepped out. His face darkened the instant he registered the scene. He crossed the hallway without hesitation, lifted Effie securely into his arms, and turned his body to shield her completely. His gaze fixed on Grayson — sharp and cold.

“Stay away from her, Grayson p>

Grayson rose slowly. The softness left his face, retreating behind his usual composure, though a faint tremor remained in his eyes.

“She is my daughter,” he said, low and controlled. “I have a right to see her p>

As the two men faced each other, the VIP suite door opened and Belle stepped into the hallway. She had arranged her expression into something deliberately gentle — until she saw Effie in Arland’s arms. The mask slipped instantly, a flash of unconcealed disgust crossing her face before she reassembled her smile.

She looked Effie over slowly, then raised her voice just enough to ensure it carried.

“Well, if it isn’t Effie. What an ugly dress — cheap fabric, tacky style. She looks completely plain p>

Hurried footsteps sounded from the staircase. Isolde rounded the corner, catching every word. Her composed expression collapsed into something cold and absolute, rage coiling tight beneath the surface.

She moved without hesitation, planting herself firmly between Arland and Effie and the other two, spreading her arms wide. Her entire bearing sharpened — the unmistakable ferocity of a mother placing herself between her child and a threat.

She took one step toward Belle, eyes locked on her, voice dropping to something low and quiet and entirely without humor.

“Say one more word about my daughter, and I will make you regret it. I am not joking p>

Belle had never seen Isolde look like this. She was accustomed to the distant composure, the cold restraint. The raw, unwavering fury in Isolde’s eyes was something else entirely. Belle stepped back involuntarily, the color draining from her face, unable to find a single word.