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Chapter 666
Chapter 666:
“If a single negative article about Effie appears on any blog, tabloid, or financial forum by sunset today,” Isolde stated, her voice drained of all human warmth, “I will draft an anonymous email. I will attach the raw, unedited DNA forensic report that proves Kaiden is your biological son with Belle Escobar p>
The air in the room turned to lead.
“I will send it to the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, and every major shareholder in the Lancaster trust,” Isolde said.
Grayson stared at her. The color vanished completely from his face. A cold, paralyzing shock gripped his chest.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Grayson whispered, his voice hoarse. “If you breach that NDA, the federal non-compete lawsuits will bankrupt you. The penalty clauses will destroy your life p>
Isolde let out a short, hollow laugh — a sound entirely devoid of humor.
“I don’t care,” she said. Her eyes burned with a suicidal, maternal ferocity. “I will gladly burn my own life to the ground if it means dragging you and Belle into hell with me. Try me, Grayson. Test my limits p>
It was the doctrine of mutually assured destruction.
𝖨𝗻t𝘦𝗻𝘀𝘦 𝗋𝘰𝗆𝖺ոсe 𝘰ո
Grayson looked at the woman standing before him and did not recognize her. The quiet, accommodating wife he had ignored for five years was gone. In her place stood a ruthless, calculating enemy holding a blade to his throat.
A deep, sickening realization twisted in his gut. He had lost control of her. Completely.
The silence stretched for ten agonizing seconds.
Grayson sank slowly back into his leather chair. He looked physically ill. He reached out with a trembling hand and pressed the intercom button on his console.
“Silas,” Grayson said, his voice hollow and defeated. “Get the Director of Public Relations up here immediately. Tell them to kill any pending stories regarding my family. Now p>
Isolde watched him concede. She felt no victory — only a profound, exhausting disgust.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, turned, and walked toward the heavy walnut doors. She took hold of the brass handle.
“When did you become this cold p>
Grayson’s voice rasped from behind her. It sounded, for the first time, like a genuine plea.
Isolde did not turn around.
“The moment you decided to sacrifice our daughter’s name to protect your mistress,” she replied to the wood paneling. “On that day, my husband died. All that remained was a business liability I intend to manage p>
She pushed the door open and walked out, leaving Grayson alone in his silent, suffocating office.
Two days later.
The second-floor executive boardroom of SkyLine Technologies was a theater of polished glass, chrome, and high-stakes tension.
Arland Roth, the Chief Technology Officer, sat at the head of the massive oval table. Isolde sat immediately to his right, wearing a sharp navy blazer, her hair pulled back into a severe knot. A thick, leather-bound dossier rested on the table in front of her.
The double doors swung open.