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Chapter 613
Chapter 613:
The elderly butler approached with rigid posture and an unreadable expression of professional duty. “The Matriarch has requested that, since you are already on the premises, Ms. Carson, you remain and join the family for dinner this evening p>
Belle’s smile shattered. Her eyes went wide. “What?” she snapped, her voice turning shrill. “Why is she staying? This was supposed to be a private dinner for me and Gray p>
The butler turned his head toward Belle with a gaze cold enough to freeze water. “Ms. Carson is the legal wife of Mr. Lancaster,” he corrected her, his tone saturated with aristocratic disdain. “I strongly advise you to mind your tone and your place in this house, Miss Escobar p>
Belle’s face turned a violent shade of red. She opened her mouth to argue, but the sheer, oppressive authority of the Lancaster estate silenced her. She looked like a scolded child.
Isolde’s mind moved quickly.
This was a trap. Beatrice was engineering a collision. If Isolde left now, Belle would have uninterrupted time to spin her lies and potentially expose the cracks in Isolde’s NDA cover story. She could not risk Effie’s custody. She had to stay and control the narrative.
𝘉𝘦 pа𝘳𝗍 𝘰𝘧 𝗼𝘶𝗋 сom𝗺𝘂𝘯𝗶𝘁у 𝗼𝗻
“Tell Grandmother I would be honored to join her,” Isolde said to the butler, her voice perfectly composed.
She allowed a single, mocking smile to touch her lips as she glanced at Belle, then followed the butler toward the waiting parlor.
The parlor was a suffocating room of heavy velvet drapes and antique furniture.
Isolde settled into a high-backed leather chair, pulled out her phone, and began answering emails regarding Carson Dynamics. She gave no indication that anyone else was present.
Belle paced the length of the Persian rug like a caged animal, pulling a compact mirror from her purse every two minutes to check her lipstick, her escalating panic impossible to conceal. The silence in the room was deafening.
She could not endure it.
Belle stopped pacing and turned to glare at Isolde. “You think you are so smart,” she hissed, desperate to provoke a reaction. “But Kaiden hates you. He knows I am his real family now p>
Isolde did not look up from her screen. Her fingers continued typing at a steady pace. “If you have this much free time,” she replied, her voice a flat monotone, “I suggest you use your phone to research basic dining etiquette. Beatrice despises people who use the wrong fork p>
Belle gasped, her face twisting with rage.
Before she could speak, the heavy parlor doors swung open.
Grayson stepped into the room.
He looked exhausted—tie loosened, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes. The moment he registered both Isolde and Belle occupying the same space, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. He understood immediately what his grandmother had orchestrated.
Belle’s face lit up. She rushed across the room toward him, hands reaching for his arm.
“Gray,” she breathed.
Grayson’s eyes flicked to the open doorway, where the butler was certainly watching. With a swift, deliberate motion, he stepped back and avoided her touch entirely. Her hands grasped empty air.