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Chapter 675
Chapter 675:
She drove to the elite Upper East Side preparatory school in a state of numb, mechanical focus, her mind a chaotic ledger of potential asset liquidations and emergency loans.
She parked a block away and walked toward the massive wrought-iron gates. The sidewalk was crowded with the usual afternoon pickup line — a sea of designer coats, oversized sunglasses, and idle gossip.
As Isolde approached the gathering of mothers, she felt the atmosphere shift. The casual chatter died. Heads turned. Eyes darted toward her, filled with a toxic mixture of pity and revulsion.
Standing at the absolute center of the crowd, holding court like a queen, was Belle Escobar.
She wore a vibrant red trench coat. The panic and humiliation of the previous day had vanished entirely. Thanks to Grayson’s illegal fifty-million-dollar wire transfer, InnoTech had been saved, and Belle’s arrogance had returned to a grotesque degree.
She held Kaiden’s hand. The boy looked exhausted, his eyes darting around with the irritable, impatient energy of a child already being pushed far too hard for the upcoming science finals.
Belle saw Isolde walking toward the gates. A cruel, triumphant smile spread across her face.
She raised her voice deliberately, ensuring her words carried above the ambient noise of the street.
“It really is a tragedy,” Belle sighed loudly, addressing a woman draped in Cartier jewelry. “Being a single mother is hard enough. But having to raise a child when you don’t even know who the real father is? The psychological toll on the poor girl must be devastating p>
The surrounding mothers gasped softly, their eyes sliding to Isolde.
The rumor from the gala restroom had spread. Belle was weaponizing it in broad daylight.
𝘗о𝗽𝗎𝗅a𝘳 𝗌𝘵or𝗶е𝗌 оո ѕ.𝖼𝘰𝗺
Isolde’s footsteps did not falter. Her spine was perfectly straight. She moved through the crowd like an icebreaker cutting through a frozen sea, the mothers instinctively stepping back, unnerved by the sheer, freezing gravity of her presence.
Isolde stopped directly in front of Belle.
Belle lifted her chin, attempting to hold her posture of superiority. “Excuse me, Isolde. We were having a private conversation p>
Isolde did not yell. She did not raise her hand.
She stepped into Belle’s personal space and leaned forward, her face inches from Belle’s ear.
“Do you really think,” Isolde whispered, her voice a soft, razor-sharp caress against Belle’s eardrum, “that the fifty million dollars Grayson wired you from his Cayman Islands shell company makes you untouchable p>
Belle’s entire body went rigid. The smug smile vanished.
Her pupils dilated in absolute terror. Her breath caught in her throat. How did Isolde know about the offshore account? It was supposed to be a ghost transaction.
Isolde pulled back just enough to look directly into Belle’s panicked eyes.
“And do you really think,” Isolde continued, her voice dropping lower still, vibrating with lethal intent, “that Grayson’s dirty money can alter the forensic DNA report that proves Kaiden is your bastard son p>
Belle let out a tiny, strangled gasp. All the blood drained from her face. Her manicured hand began to tremble violently.
Isolde held her gaze, her own eyes dead and merciless.