If you are looking for Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable Chapter 662read online, you have come to the right place…
Chapter 662
Chapter 662:
Elias studied her. A slow, appreciative smile spread across his face. He reached into his tailored jacket, produced a heavy matte-black business card, and held it out.
“If Carson Dynamics requires bridge financing before the end of the fiscal quarter,” he said, his tone dropping to a confidential murmur, “call my private line. I prefer to do business with people who know how to keep their mouths shut p>
Isolde took the card. “Enjoy the gala, Mr. Cole p>
She turned and walked away. The brief exchange had spiked her adrenaline. She needed to recalibrate.
Isolde bypassed the main bar and slipped through a heavy oak door leading to the restrooms in the east wing of the venue.
The room was a cavern of white marble and gold fixtures, completely empty save for two closed stall doors at the far end. Isolde walked to the sink, turned on the cold tap, and pressed her wet fingertips to her temples, trying to soothe the dull ache forming behind her eyes.
Over the sound of the running water, a sharp, nasal voice echoed from one of the stalls.
𝖱om𝗮𝘯𝖼𝗲 a𝗻𝗱 р𝗮𝘀si𝗼𝗻 o𝘯
“Did you see her dress? It is so desperate. She is trying far too hard to pretend she isn’t completely broke p>
Isolde froze. Her hands stilled under the water.
A second voice answered from the adjacent stall, accompanied by the sound of a flushing toilet.
“Grayson Lancaster threw her out like garbage. And honestly, who can blame him? I heard Belle Escobar’s PR team has been spreading the most audacious rumors — that Grayson bought her a massive penthouse in Tribeca to hide her away. It’s a pathetic attempt to save face after that public disaster. But honestly, with the way Grayson’s been drinking, he’s probably just keeping her around to stabilize the Lancaster stock, not out of some grand romance. Still, in a way, she’s winning p>
Isolde stared at her own reflection. Her face was completely devoid of expression.
“I heard the real reason for the divorce,” the first woman continued, her voice dripping with malicious glee. “It’s the girl. Effie p>
Isolde’s stomach violently contracted. A wave of ice-cold nausea washed over her.
“What about her?” the second woman asked.
“Look at her,” the first woman sneered. “She has dark hair. She doesn’t look a thing like Grayson. My husband plays golf with one of the Lancaster trust lawyers. He said Effie doesn’t even have the Lancaster genetic markers. She is a bastard. Isolde had an affair, and Grayson is just keeping it quiet to protect the company stock p>
The air in the restroom vanished.
Isolde’s fingers closed around the edge of the marble sink. The stone bit into her skin. The blood roared in her ears — a deafening, rushing tide of pure, maternal fury.
They were calling her daughter a bastard. They were inverting the truth entirely to protect Belle’s illegitimate son.
Isolde did not kick the stall doors open. She did not scream.
She reached into her clutch, withdrew her phone, opened the voice memo app, and pressed the red record button with a thumb that did not tremble. She placed the phone flat on the marble counter.