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Chapter 715
Chapter 715:
“Cheap?” Isolde repeated, her voice carrying with crystal clarity to every listening ear nearby.
She took a half-step forward, invading Victoria’s personal space.
“Victoria,” she said, a cruel smile touching her red lips. “The deposit I paid for this dress is more than any single bet you lost at the Macau baccarat tables with the thirty million dollars you embezzled from the art fund p>
Victoria’s jaw snapped shut. The blood drained from her face so quickly she swayed on her feet. Her eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing terror, and a choked sound escaped her throat — she could not form a single word.
Not even Beatrice knows about that. How could she? Unless… unless the Old Man…
The surrounding socialites gasped, exchanging shocked, hungry glances. They didn’t know the details, but they could smell blood.
Isolde didn’t wait for Victoria to recover. She stepped around the frozen woman and continued her walk toward the center of the room.
𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗋ies 𝗒𝗼u 𝘸𝗈𝘯’𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝗍 𝗱о𝗐𝘯 𝘰n
Grayson broke away from the senator and intercepted her, stepping directly into her path. His face was dark, his jaw clenched tight.
“What are you doing, Isolde?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “Why are you dressed like this p>
Isolde stopped. She looked at him. There was no love, no hate, no anger in her eyes. He was nothing to her now.
“I am here to fulfill my promise to Beatrice,” she said, her voice cold and even. “Now step aside, Grayson. You are blocking my light p>
She walked past him, leaving the former master of her universe standing completely ignored in the middle of his own party.
Isolde moved effortlessly through the core VIP section of the ballroom, holding a flute of champagne while three high-level venture capitalists hung on her every word. She was discussing the macroeconomic impacts of orbital logistics with precise, devastatingly intelligent terminology, and the men were completely captivated — by her mind as much as by her presence.
On the opposite side of the room, a sudden flurry of activity drew the crowd’s attention.
Belle Escobar made her entrance in a heavily beaded, conservative white gown, projecting the carefully constructed image of a pure, brilliant tech founder and future Lancaster matriarch. A swarm of financial journalists surrounded her immediately. Belle smiled for the cameras, eager to control the narrative.
A senior reporter from Forbes pushed his microphone forward. “Ms. Escobar, rumors are circulating that InnoTech is finalizing a massive algorithm integration with DARPA. Can you confirm your team’s involvement p>
Belle’s eyes gleamed with greedy satisfaction. She decided to steal the credit right there, on camera.
“We are deeply committed to national defense,” she answered in her softest, most earnest voice. “I cannot discuss classified details, but the recent breakthroughs in the core adaptive algorithms are absolutely a product of our team’s hard work p>
Isolde heard the lie from across the room.