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Chapter 667
Chapter 667:
Belle Escobar walked in wearing a blindingly white Chanel suit, two junior assistants trailing behind her with briefcases and presentation boards. She paused just outside the doorway and took a deep, steadying breath, checking her phone one last time. The notification was still there — a wire transfer for fifty million dollars from an untraceable account. Grayson had come through. The relief washed away the last traces of fear and hardened into familiar, cold arrogance. He couldn’t live without her. This was proof.
After Carter Harrington had publicly blacklisted InnoTech, traditional venture capital avenues had slammed shut. Now, in desperation, Belle was attempting to leverage her personal relationship with Grayson to force a strategic partnership and a twenty-million-dollar bridge loan directly from SkyLine’s R&D budget.
Belle stepped fully into the room and saw Isolde sitting beside Arland.
Her perfectly painted red lips twitched. A flash of pure hatred crossed her eyes, instantly suppressed beneath a bright, corporate smile.
“Gentlemen,” Belle announced, ignoring Isolde entirely. She walked to the front of the room and plugged her laptop into the main console. “Thank you for taking the time to review InnoTech’s proposal p>
The massive screen behind her illuminated with a slick, highly produced presentation.
For the next fifteen minutes, Belle paced the front of the room, speaking rapidly, her voice dripping with manufactured confidence. She gestured to charts showing exponential user growth and projected revenue streams.
“Our new adaptive fluid dynamics algorithm is months ahead of the competition,” Belle said smoothly, pointing to a graph that climbed straight upward. “With a twenty-million-dollar capital injection from SkyLine, we can finalize the patent and secure a monopoly on the municipal aerospace contracts p>
Several of the older SkyLine executives, unaware of the Javits Center disaster, nodded in approval, studying the inflated numbers and sensing a lucrative opportunity. Belle noticed their nods. Her chest swelled with arrogant triumph. She shot a smug, sideways glance at Isolde. The look said clearly: You can’t stop me. Capital always wins.
ѕ𝗵𝖺𝗿e уо𝘂𝗿 𝘵h𝗼𝘶𝘨h𝗍s 𝗼n
Belle clicked to the final slide — the proposed funding schedule.
“I ask the board to move to a vote,” she concluded, placing her hands on the podium.
Isolde reached out and closed the thick leather dossier in front of her.
Smack.
The sharp crack of the heavy cover striking the table cut through the room like a gunshot. Every executive stopped talking. All eyes turned to Isolde.
She stood, picked up her tablet from the table, and walked slowly toward the front of the room, her heels clicking against the floor in a steady, deliberate rhythm. She stopped beside Belle without looking at her, reached down, and plugged her tablet directly into the master override port on the console.
Belle’s colorful presentation vanished instantly.
It was replaced by a stark, black-and-white document bearing the unmistakable red seal of one of Wall Street’s most ruthless independent auditing firms. Two days ago, anticipating this exact desperate maneuver, Isolde had leveraged Carter Harrington’s private network to commission a comprehensive forensic audit of InnoTech’s financial records.
“What are you doing?” Belle hissed, her professional veneer slipping.
Isolde ignored her. She turned to face the board.
“What you just watched was a work of fiction,” Isolde stated, her voice cold, clinical, and entirely devoid of emotion.
She tapped her screen. The projected document scrolled to a highlighted section of code.