Chapter 602
Chapter 602:
“Dry your hair,” he said, putting the car in gear. “Pneumonia is highly contagious, and your immune system is currently running on adrenaline and no sleep p>
Isolde took the towel and rubbed her wet hair without any concern for her appearance—not the behavior of a delicate billionaire’s wife, but of a woman focused entirely on survival.
Julian glanced at her. A flicker of genuine respect crossed his features.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Chelsea,” Isolde replied, giving him the address of her new apartment building.
The drive downtown was quiet. They did not speak about Grayson. They did not mention the ugly scene in the hospital corridor. Julian offered a few concise, practical tips on managing Effie’s lung recovery once she was discharged, and Isolde listened carefully. Nothing more was needed.
The Range Rover pulled up to the curb outside her building. Julian reached into his jacket pocket and produced a crisp white business card.
“My private cell number is on the back,” he said, handing it to her. “If Effie’s breathing changes or her fever spikes again, do not bother with the hospital switchboard. Call me directly p>
Isolde took the card and looked at the handwritten numbers. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in her chest—the feeling of being genuinely helped without strings attached.
𝖣оո’𝗍 m𝘪𝘴𝗌 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘳el𝗲𝖺𝘀𝘦s о𝗇
“Thank you, Dr. Thorne,” she said softly.
“Get some sleep, Ms. Carson,” Julian replied. “And have a nurse look at your feet. I saw the initial report. Those cuts looked deep p>
Isolde stepped out of the car and walked into the brightly lit lobby of her building. As she crossed toward the elevators, she typed a quick message to her personal assistant: My SUV is stalled in the flooded intersection at 86th and Lex. Arrange for a tow and full engine diagnostics. She dismissed the ruined vehicle from her mind as one dismisses a broken umbrella.
The moment she stepped into the elevator, her phone vibrated violently. The signal had returned.
The screen lit up with fifteen missed calls from Harper Vance. A barrage of text messages flooded the notification center, composed almost entirely of exclamation points and angry emojis.
Isolde walked into her apartment, peeled off her damp coat, and dialed Harper’s number.
Harper answered on the first ring. A loud, piercing scream of frustration erupted through the speaker.
“Tell me you have seen the Wall Street Journal gossip column!” Harper yelled.
Isolde walked into the kitchen, turned on the electric kettle, and set the phone on speaker against the marble island. “I have been dealing with a flooded car,” she said, her voice perfectly flat. “My driver and security team are still trapped in the traffic gridlock. Just give me the summary p>
Harper sounded as though she were hyperventilating with rage. “The headline literally says: The New Future of the Lancaster Empire: A Powerful Partnership Between Grayson and Belle p>
Harper sent a link. Isolde tapped it open on her tablet.