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Chapter 623
Chapter 623:
Grayson swallowed. The muscles in his neck strained. “My grandmother required us to come here,” he said, his voice thick and raspy. “To formally apologize for the events of last night and yesterday morning p>
Isolde let out a short, breathy sound that was not quite a laugh. “Are you here because you suddenly developed a conscience, Grayson? Or are you here because Beatrice threatened to cut your funding and strip your title p>
His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He could not defend himself, because she was entirely correct.
He stepped to the side, physically exposing Belle to Isolde’s direct line of sight.
Belle stood frozen, her entire body rigid.
“Belle,” Grayson prompted, his voice low and carrying a harsh edge of warning.
𝗪𝖾e𝗄𝗅y 𝗿𝗲𝗅𝗲а𝘴𝖾𝗌 оn.сom
Belle flinched. She slowly reached up with trembling fingers and removed the dark sunglasses. Her eyes were swollen and red, the skin around her nose blotchy. She looked pathetic. She stared at the marble floor, unable to meet Isolde’s gaze.
“I am sorry,” Belle mumbled. The words were barely audible over the hum of the lobby’s ventilation system.
Isolde crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly. “The acoustics in this lobby are terrible,” she said, her tone conversational and utterly merciless. “I did not catch a single word of that p>
Belle’s head snapped up. Her eyes flashed with a sudden, violent surge of hatred. She knew exactly what Isolde was doing—dragging the humiliation out, forcing her to bleed in public. She thought of the two hundred million dollars. She thought of the bankruptcy lawyers waiting in the wings. She forced the hatred down into her stomach, where it burned like battery acid.
She drew a deep breath, raised her voice, and forced the words out through clenched teeth.
“Ms. Carson,” Belle said, her voice echoing off the marble walls. “I formally apologize to you for my inappropriate behavior and my out-of-line actions regarding your family p>
Two wealthy residents waiting for the elevator turned their heads. A delivery man paused near the front desk, watching the scene unfold. Belle felt her skin burn. The public exposure was agonizing—her dignity being stripped away piece by piece and ground into the floor beneath Isolde’s heels.
Isolde looked at Belle. There was no triumphant smile on her face. Only a deep, clinical disgust.
“Your apology is entirely worthless,” she stated clearly. “Because you are only sorry that you were caught, and you are only sorry that you are losing money p>
She shifted her gaze to Grayson. “Keep her on a tighter leash,” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous register. She took one step closer to him, her presence suddenly suffocating. “And do not forget the clock is still ticking on your twenty-four-hour deadline. If I do not see that public statement severing all ties with her by tonight, the supplementary NDA breach documents will be on Beatrice’s desk before you can call your lawyers. Am I clear p>
Grayson’s face turned a sickly pale. The muscles in his jaw ticked as he stared at her, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate fear—a man standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff.