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Chapter 614
Chapter 614:
He did not look at Belle. His dark, intense gaze locked fully onto Isolde, who continued typing on her phone with perfect calm.
The air in the room grew heavy with the weight of what was coming.
The execution was about to begin.
The heavy oak double doors of the main dining room were drawn open by two silent footmen.
The room was vast and intimidating. A crystal chandelier cast a brilliant, unforgiving light over a dining table that stretched ten meters long, its surface covered in pristine white linen, set with heavy antique silver and crystal goblets that gleamed like ice.
Beatrice Lancaster was already seated at the head of the table. She looked like a monarch waiting for her subjects.
The butler stepped forward. He pulled out the chair immediately to Beatrice’s right—the absolute seat of honor. “Ms. Carson,” he murmured respectfully.
Isolde sat down, her movements fluid and composed.
The butler then moved to Beatrice’s left and drew out the chair for Grayson, who took his seat with the expression of a man walking to his own sentencing. Belle stood near the doorway, waiting to be guided to the chair beside Grayson.
𝘓𝗮𝘵𝗲𝘀𝗍 𝖼𝘩𝗮𝗉𝘁𝖾𝗋𝘴 𝗈𝗻
The butler did not move in her direction. Instead, he walked the full length of the massive table and stopped at the very last chair at the opposite end. He pulled it out and looked at Belle.
There was no name card. She had been placed as far from the center of power as the room physically allowed. It was a visual, undeniable declaration of her utter insignificance in this house.
Belle’s face flushed a deep, humiliating crimson. She could feel the eyes of the footmen on her. She swallowed her pride, walked the agonizing length of the table, and sat down in the lonely chair at the far end.
The first course was served in absolute silence. The only sound was the delicate scrape of silver against porcelain, the atmospheric pressure in the room too heavy to permit anything else.
Beatrice took a small, precise bite of her foie gras and dabbed her lips with a linen napkin. She did not turn her head. She spoke directly to Grayson.
“I reviewed the preliminary numbers for the InnoTech integration,” she said, her voice carrying effortlessly down the length of the table. “Are you aware of the massive discrepancies in their supply chain ledgers p>
Grayson’s grip on his silver knife tightened. He knew about the audit. He knew about the missing two hundred million. “We are currently conducting a thorough internal review, Grandmother,” he answered carefully. “There are some friction points in the vendor contracts p>
Beatrice let out a dry, rattling laugh. “Friction points,” she repeated, tasting the words like something rotten.
She turned her sharp, predatory gaze down the length of the table and fixed it on Belle. “The Wall Street Journal called you a visionary, Miss Escobar,” she said, her voice soaked in venomous sarcasm. “They claimed you were the savior of SkyLine’s propulsion division p>
Belle froze. Her fork hovered halfway to her mouth. A cold sweat broke out across her collarbones.