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Chapter 630
Chapter 630:
She had just weaponized a legacy contract on live television, effectively forcing Grayson to choose between a public stock panic and a quiet, slow-motion suicide by association.
Isolde watched the screen. Her stomach did not drop. Her heart rate did not change.
She felt a profound, chilling sense of finality.
“Did you see what she just did?” Harper yelled through the speaker. “She invoked a legacy clause on live TV! She is using SkyLine’s corporate reputation to prop up her empty shell of a company, and Grayson is too terrified of a market sell-off to correct her. He is letting her tie his own ship to her sinking one p>
“I heard it,” Isolde said. Her voice was a quiet, dangerous whisper.
“Izzy, if InnoTech defaults, SkyLine is on the hook for hundreds of millions,” Harper warned, panic bleeding into her tone. “This could affect the valuation of your divorce settlement p>
Isolde stared at Grayson’s face on the screen. He looked so confident, so arrogant in his delusion.
𝘚to𝗋і𝗲𝘀 y𝘰𝘂 𝘸o𝗇’𝘵 p𝘶t d𝗈w𝗻 𝗼ո 𝗀а𝘭ո𝘰𝗏𝖾𝘭s.с𝗼𝗆
“This is not about the money or the settlement anymore, Harper,” she said, her voice carrying a weight of absolute finality that made the air in the cab feel cold. “When SkyLine’s reputation goes up in flames because of his cowardice, I will already be long gone. Effie will be safe, and our lives will be entirely untethered from that family. The financial ruin he is about to face is simply the price he pays for the lives he has broken p>
Isolde tapped the screen, pausing the video on Belle’s smiling face. “Grayson just allowed her to sign his death warrant,” she explained, her tone clinical. “The algorithm Belle is pushing is a fatal logic trap. When it fails during live deployment, it will not simply be a financial loss—it will trigger a federal investigation into gross negligence. Because Grayson failed to publicly sever the partnership today, SkyLine will be dragged directly into the blast radius p>
Harper sucked in a sharp breath. “You knew,” she whispered, awe and terror mixing in her voice. “You knew her technology was garbage, and you are going to let them burn p>
“I am going to hand them the matches,” Isolde corrected her. “Keep monitoring the short-sellers on Wall Street. Let me know when the volume spikes p>
She hung up.
The Uber pulled up to the massive glass facade of the Javits Center. The sidewalks were swarming with people—thousands of anxious parents and nervous children wearing competition badges crowding the entrance in a deafening roar of overlapping conversations and announcements.
Isolde paid the driver and stepped out into the cold wind. She pulled her trench coat tight and pushed through the heavy glass doors into the main concourse. Banners for the STEM Olympiad hung from the high ceilings above the vast, cavernous space.
She walked toward the designated waiting area for Section A and scanned the rows of plastic chairs.
She spotted Effie immediately.