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Chapter 619
Chapter 619:
She reached into her clutch, produced her smartphone, and held the glowing screen directly up to his face—the harsh white light illuminating his pale, shocked features. It displayed a draft of a supplementary contract prepared by the most ruthless litigation firm in Manhattan.
“My legal team operates twenty-four hours a day,” Isolde said coldly. “Read the clauses, Grayson. It stipulates that you must issue a public, legally binding statement clarifying that your relationship with Belle Escobar is strictly professional, and that the Wall Street Journal article was false p>
Grayson stared at the screen, his blood running cold.
“If you do not sign and execute this retraction within twenty-four hours,” Isolde continued, her eyes gleaming with absolute certainty, “I will consider our NDA voided by your failure to protect my public image. And then I will personally schedule another tea with Beatrice to discuss our true marital situation, your embezzlement problem, and the thief you plan on installing in my place p>
Grayson’s jaw went slack. He was completely paralyzed.
“She threatened to strip your CEO title tonight,” Isolde reminded him, her voice merciless. “Do you want to test her resolve p>
She turned her back on him, opened the door of the Bentley, and slid into the luxurious leather seat. She looked at him through the open window one last time.
“You thought I was a piece of property you could control,” she said softly. “But the rules have changed. I own you now p>
The window rolled up. The Bentley glided silently down the driveway and disappeared into the night.
Grayson stood alone in the cold darkness, crushing his phone in his fist, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm of absolute defeat. He was trapped in a cage entirely of his own making.
Miles away, a yellow taxi sped down the wet asphalt of the FDR Drive.
аc𝗍i𝗏𝖾 co𝗺𝗆𝘂𝘯і𝗍у о𝗻 ѕ.𝖼𝗼𝗺
Belle sat in the back seat, her makeup smeared, her red dress wrinkled. Her eyes were wide and fixed blankly on the passing streetlights. She pulled her phone from her purse with trembling hands and dialed.
“Mom,” she whispered, her voice cracking with manic desperation as Cheryl Juarez answered. “They threw me out. Isolde ruined everything p>
She dug her fingernails into the leather seat, a toxic, consuming hatred taking hold of her entirely. “I want her to suffer,” she hissed into the phone, her eyes burning with a cold, psychotic light. “I want to break the only thing she cares about. Call your contacts. We are going to destroy her little brat at the STEM competition p>
The morning mist had not yet burned off the sprawling grounds of the Lancaster estate. The air was biting and damp.
Belle Escobar stepped out of her black sedan. The cold wind cut immediately through her thin designer coat. She shivered, her stomach churning with a sour mixture of leftover humiliation from the night before and a fresh, sharp dread.
She forced herself to walk toward the massive stone entrance. Her high heels clicked unevenly on the damp pavement. She kept adjusting her collar—a nervous habit she could not suppress.