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Chapter 742
Chapter 742:
Grayson and Belle were escorted into a sealed holding room just outside the main hearing chamber.
The room offered no luxury — a sterile box of cold metal benches and harsh fluorescent light. Seated on those benches were a dozen men in dark, conservative suits wearing highly restricted clearance badges: chief engineers and senior lobbyists from Lockheed Martin, Boeing, and Raytheon. The air was thick with the suffocating weight of raw, intellectual military power.
Belle sat down on a metal bench. Her white Chanel suit looked grotesquely out of place. The silence in the room was deafening, and she could feel the eyes of every man around her.
She glanced up. Two older men wearing Lockheed Martin badges were staring directly at her. The one with silver hair and sharp eyes leaned toward his colleague and murmured something.
𝘑𝗼𝗂𝗻 𝘁h𝗈𝘶ѕa𝘯𝗱s о𝖿 f𝖺𝗻ѕ on ѕ.с𝘰𝗆
Both men looked at Belle and let out a low, distinct scoff of pure mockery.
The sound drove into Belle’s brain like a needle.
Isolde’s words — thief of national security secrets — began screaming inside her skull. The extreme psychological pressure of Capitol Hill, compounded by her own crushing guilt, caused her fragile mental state to fracture.
Belle shot up from the bench. Her high heels scraped loudly against the floor.
“What are you laughing at?!” she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the two engineers. Her voice was shrill and completely unhinged.
The entire room went dead silent. The military contractors stared at her as though a rabid animal had wandered into a laboratory.
The silver-haired Lockheed engineer did not flinch. He regarded her with absolute, freezing professional disdain.
“Ms. Escobar,” he said, his voice calm and lethal. “We were discussing your submitted fluid dynamics model. The complete absence of an adaptive thermal dispersion loop is, without question, the most glaring and suicidal omission I have encountered in forty years of this work p>
He leaned forward slightly. “You cannot hide technical incompetence in this building p>
The words hit Belle like a freight train. The blood rushed from her head. She had no idea what an adaptive thermal dispersion loop was. She was completely, irrevocably exposed.
Panic consumed her. She fell back on the only defense mechanism she had left — blind, screaming rage.
“You are just jealous!” Belle roared, her face twisting into an ugly mask of desperation. “InnoTech’s technology is flawless! You old dinosaurs don’t understand innovation p>
Grayson felt his face burn with a sickening, profound humiliation. In the cutthroat world of Wall Street, you maintained composure even while slitting a throat. Here, in the highest halls of American power, Belle was performing like a screaming toddler in a supermarket.
He lunged forward and seized her wrist. His large hand clamped down over her delicate bones with brutal force.
Belle gasped.
“Shut your mouth,” Grayson hissed directly into her ear, his voice vibrating with barely contained rage. “Are you trying to humiliate me p>
Belle looked up into his eyes. There was no love there — only deep, unambiguous disgust. Hot tears welled up in her eyes. “Gray… they are attacking me p>
