Chapter 600
Chapter 600:
A tear slid down Grayson’s cheek before he could stop it. He reached out, desperate to hold her hand, to offer any form of comfort. “I am so sorry,” he choked out, his voice fracturing. “I thought you were waiting for your driver. I thought you were safe. My mother collapsed—I panicked p>
Isolde took a deliberate step back, avoiding his touch as though contact itself would contaminate her.
“You thought,” she repeated softly. “You always assume you know everything, Grayson p>
She looked at the closed door of the hospital room. “Do you know what she was crying for in the middle of the night, when her fever spiked?” she asked, her voice stripped of all emotion. “She was crying for her Daddy. She was begging you not to leave her in the rain p>
Grayson let out a ragged, broken sound. He covered his mouth with his hand. The guilt was crushing him alive.
“Let me see her,” he pleaded, stepping toward the door. “Please. Just let me go in there p>
Isolde moved swiftly, placing herself in the doorway.
D𝗼𝘸ոload𝗮𝘣𝘭𝖾 P𝖣𝘍𝘴 o𝗇
“No,” she said. The word was absolute. “You do not get to see her. You do not get to hold her hand p>
“I am her father!” Grayson cried, the desperation tearing at his voice.
“No,” Isolde replied, with a coldness that left no room for argument. “From this moment forward, you are nothing but a biological sperm donor p>
She reached into the pocket of her coat, produced a folded legal document, and pressed it firmly against his chest.
Grayson looked down. The bold black letters at the top of the page read: Emergency Motion for Sole Custody and a Temporary Restraining Order.
“My lawyers filed it an hour ago,” Isolde said. “The photographs from the subway are attached as Exhibit A. You legally abandoned a minor during a life-threatening weather event. Given the immediate endangerment, the judge signed the ex parte order twenty minutes ago. You are legally forbidden from coming within five hundred feet of her. No judge in this state will ever grant you custody again p>
Grayson stared at the paper. A cold, absolute terror seized his heart. He could not breathe. He was losing them. He had completely and irrevocably lost them.
Isolde turned, opened the door to the hospital room, and stepped inside. The heavy door clicked shut behind her. The deadbolt slid into place, and the sound of it echoed down the quiet hallway like a verdict.
Grayson stood alone.
The paper slipped from his trembling fingers and fluttered to the floor. His knees buckled. Grayson Lancaster—the billionaire king of Manhattan—collapsed onto the cold linoleum of the hospital corridor and buried his face in his hands, finally and completely broken.
The rain had finally stopped, but the city was still drowning. The storm had passed, leaving behind a bruised gray sky and streets that had become rushing rivers of dirty water across the Upper East Side.
Isolde Carson sat behind the steering wheel of her SUV. She had left Mount Sinai Hospital only twenty minutes earlier. Effie was finally sleeping peacefully, her fever stabilized under the watchful eyes of the pediatric nurses. Isolde needed to return to her new apartment to collect clean clothes and Effie’s favorite blanket.
But she was not going anywhere.