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Chapter 792
Chapter 792:
“Mr. Lancaster,” Warren said. His voice was conversational, but it carried the lethal weight of an interrogation. “As the former CEO of a ten-billion-dollar AI empire, I assume the name ‘Sophia’ is not unfamiliar to you p>
Grayson’s throat constricted. He tried to swallow, but it felt like swallowing sand.
“I am familiar with the name,” Grayson replied, forcing his voice to remain steady.
Warren tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, pinning Grayson like a butterfly to a board.
“Then tell me, Mr. Lancaster,” Warren pressed, each word deliberate and sharp. “During your five-year marriage to Chief Engineer Carson—did you ever truly comprehend the magnitude of your wife’s capabilities p>
The question was a lethal trap.
If Grayson said yes, he was admitting to intentionally suppressing—and potentially stealing from—a national security asset. If he said no, he was publicly declaring himself a blind, incompetent fool who had failed to recognize a genius sleeping in his own bed.
His mind raced. He fell back on his deepest instinct: corporate evasion.
𝘐ոѕt𝖺𝗇𝘵 𝖺𝗰𝗰𝗲ѕ𝗌 𝗈𝗻
“Isolde is a woman who values her privacy above all else,” Grayson answered, his voice a smooth, practiced baritone. “I always respected her choices, including her decision to keep her professional talents out of the public eye p>
It was a masterclass in bureaucratic deflection. He admitted nothing. He denied nothing. He hid behind Isolde’s privacy.
A few feet away, Belle heard his answer.
Her panicked mind instantly warped the words. He’s protecting me, she thought, a sudden, delusional wave of relief washing over her. He knew she had government ties and kept quiet to protect my company. He’s still fighting for me.
Belle let out a shaky breath and shot Grayson a look of profound, desperate gratitude.
Warren watched the pathetic display.
He studied Grayson’s perfectly composed face, and a flicker of genuine, cold pity passed through the Secretary’s eyes. He knew that Grayson had just hammered the final nail into his own coffin.
Warren didn’t ask another question. He simply reached out and patted Grayson twice on the shoulder.
“You will remember the answer you just gave me for the rest of your life,” Warren said quietly.
The words landed exactly like a death sentence.
Warren turned his back on Grayson and walked toward the center of the room, giving Isolde a brief, sharp nod as he went.
The stage was set. The final misdirection was complete.
Grayson stared at Warren’s back. A wave of pure, suffocating terror finally broke through his corporate mask. His hands began to shake.
Belle was still clinging to her false hope, waiting for Grayson to save her.
Isolde stepped forward.
The fog was gone. The executioner raised her axe.
Secretary Warren stepped back into the shadows near the podium.
The ambient lighting in the banquet hall seemed to dim, leaving Isolde standing alone in a pool of stark, brilliant light.
She did not look at Grayson. She did not look at the crowd. She locked her eyes entirely on Belle Escobar, who was still clinging to the delusional hope that she had survived.
Isolde gave a sharp, almost imperceptible nod to Warren’s military assistant standing near the AV controls.
