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Chapter 771
Chapter 771:
Isolde stared blankly at the red taillights blurring past the window. The sheer hypocrisy of sitting beside the man she despised, simply to maintain a stock price, made her skin crawl.
Grayson suddenly reached up and wrenched his bowtie loose.
“Your performance at the press conference was quite a spectacle, President Carson,” he said. His voice cut through the silence like a jagged shard of glass, thick with bitter, bleeding sarcasm. Watching her wear his crown on national television had clearly torn his ego to pieces.
Isolde did not turn her head. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice completely devoid of warmth. “But it was an easy performance. After all, you practically gift-wrapped the crown and handed it to me p>
Grayson’s breathing hitched.
He whipped his head around, dark eyes burning into the side of her face. “Do not push me right now, Isolde,” he warned, his voice a low, vibrating threat. “Do not make me fight you in this car before we have to face my grandmother p>
Isolde let out a soft, freezing laugh. She finally turned and looked him dead in the eye.
“You can always tell the driver to pull over and walk,” she said, her eyes flashing with cruel amusement. “Or are you too terrified Beatrice will cut off your last remaining trust fund p>
The words landed on the absolute center of his deepest insecurity.
Grayson’s hands curled into tight fists on his thighs. His knuckles turned bone white. His jaw locked so hard she could hear his teeth grinding.
𝖥о𝘭l𝗈𝗐 𝘂𝗌 𝗼ո ѕ.𝖼o𝘮
He did not say another word. The car plunged back into a suffocating, murderous silence for the next hour and a half.
The Rolls-Royce turned off the highway and glided through the massive wrought-iron gates of the Hamptons estate, rolling to a stop in front of the grand stone fountain.
Just as the butler reached for the door handle outside, Grayson lunged across the seat.
He grabbed Isolde’s hand. His grip was brutal and unyielding.
Isolde gasped and yanked hard, but he was too strong. He pulled her arm and locked it tightly through the crook of his elbow.
“Smile, my darling wife,” Grayson hissed into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Let’s not let them see that we just spent two hours trying to slit each other’s throats p>
A wave of pure, physical revulsion moved through Isolde.
She forced her facial muscles to comply. Her lips stretched into a flawless, empty, terrifyingly perfect smile.
The door opened. The family’s hired photographers detonated a blinding barrage of flashes.
They stepped out together — the perfect picture of aristocratic grace — and walked up the red carpet.
Inside, the massive, glittering ballroom was thick with expensive perfume and roasted meats. Hundreds of elite guests turned their heads immediately, eyes hungry for scandal, scanning for any crack in the couple’s armor.
Isolde moved through the crowd with lethal grace, nodding and exchanging hollow pleasantries, performing the role of the untouchable Lancaster matriarch.
Then Kaiden appeared.