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Chapter 684
Chapter 684:
She reached out with a perfectly steady finger and swiped the notification away, erasing the record of his attempt entirely. Then she opened her phone settings, navigated to the blocked contacts list, and confirmed his number was permanently locked in the digital void.
She was done listening to his voice.
The war had moved beyond words.
Grayson paced behind his desk like a caged predator, his breathing heavy and ragged. The cracked screen of his private phone mocked him from the polished wood surface.
He slammed his hand down on the intercom button.
“Silas! Get in here right now p>
𝘔𝗼ѕ𝗍 𝗋𝖾а𝘥 𝗍𝘩𝗂ѕ 𝗐𝘦е𝗸 o𝗻
The doors flew open. Silas practically ran into the room, his face pale with anxiety.
“Use the corporate landline,” Grayson ordered, pointing a shaking finger at the phone on Silas’s clipboard. “Call Isolde’s secondary emergency number. Put it on speaker p>
Silas swallowed hard and quickly punched in the digits.
The phone rang twice. A sharp click echoed through the office.
“Speak,” Isolde’s voice filled the room — crisp, cold, and completely devoid of emotion.
Silas immediately held the receiver out toward Grayson.
Grayson snatched it. He forced his chest to stop heaving and injected his voice with the calm, authoritative tone of a CEO extending a generous negotiation.
“Isolde,” Grayson said. “We need to discuss the Gala. I am willing to offer a compromise. I have already rejected Belle’s request to co-host. But to stabilize market confidence in our joint venture, I require you to allocate five minutes of red-carpet exposure to the InnoTech team p>
A heavy, suffocating silence stretched over the line. Five full seconds passed.
Then Isolde laughed.
It was not a happy sound. It was sharp and brittle, like glass shattering on concrete.
Isolde sat in her apartment as a wave of pure, acidic nausea rolled through her. The sheer audacity of this man was physically sickening. He wanted her to share her stage with the woman who had destroyed her family — all to protect his stock prices.
“Are you out of your mind?” Isolde asked, her voice dropping to a lethal, quiet register. “Do you want me to hold the train of her dress while she walks the carpet, Grayson? Would that satisfy your PR department p>
Grayson’s face flushed dark red. His grip on the receiver tightened until the plastic creaked.
“Do not be unreasonable,” Grayson snapped, his voice rising. “I just told you I denied her the hosting rights. I am making a massive concession here. You need to play ball p>
“You are not making concessions,” Isolde fired back, her words slicing through the air like razor blades. “You are trying to manage your mistress. And I am not your crisis manager p>
Isolde rose from her kitchen stool. Her eyes were completely dead.
“Let me make this very clear,” she stated. “I control the guest list. I control the security protocol. If Belle Escobar’s designer heel touches one single inch of that red carpet, I will walk up to the microphone and read our divorce non-disclosure agreement to the press pool p>