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Chapter 13: The Altitude of Isolation
publish date:
2026-03-15 18:45:25
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Try to make me cry Chapter 13: The Altitude of Isolation
The hum of the Gulfstream’s engines was a low, vibratory drone that seemed to rattle the very marrow of my bones. Inside the cabin, the air was pressurized and sterile, smelling of high-grade leather, expensive bourbon, and the cloying, sugary scent of Bella’s perfume.I sat in the oversized cream leather armchair, my legs crossed carefully at the ankles to avoid the white-hot sting of the scrapes on my knees. I had shed my wool coat, leaving me in the charcoal silk jumpsuit that felt like a second skin—a cold, shimmering armor. My laptop was open on the mahogany pull-out table, the glow of the screen reflecting in my eyes, but I wasn't reading the spreadsheets. I was listening.An hour into the flight, the initial theatrics had settled into a simmering, uncomfortable quiet. Eddie sat across the aisle, his navy jacket discarded, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that were tense with a strange, restless energy. Bella was perched on the edge of the seat next to him, h
Try to make me cry Chapter 12: The Gilded Departure
The silence in my bedroom was so thick it felt physical, a heavy velvet shroud that muffled the morning light. I sat on the edge of my bed, the silk duvet cool against the backs of my thighs. I was dressed in a tailored charcoal silk jumpsuit—seamless, sharp, and utterly devoid of warmth. Over my shoulders, a heavy cream wool coat was draped like a cape, the weight of it a grounding force. My long blonde hair, meticulously straightened, cascaded down my back like a sheet of spun glass.I didn't look like a woman going to a birthday party. I looked like a woman going to war.The only sound was the distant, rhythmic thud-thud of the maids moving through the hallway. Then, the inevitable knock. Two sharp raps."Madam? The luggage is ready."I didn't answer immediately. I traced the edge of my jaw, feeling the slight puffiness where the world had tried to break my mask the day before. I stood up, the floorboards silent under my pointed stilettos, and watched as the two maids scuttled in.
Try to make me cry Chapter 11: The Political Minefield
The office air went from celebratory to toxic in the space of that single, shouted syllable: "You! You are Miss Grayson?"The Governor, Laim London, and his son, Robin London, stared between me and the distraught woman, who I now knew was Ivy London.Robin London looked at his wife, confused. “Oh, you know her, honey?”I closed my eyes, preparing to launch into my pre-planned defense of corporate discipline, but Ivy spoke first, her mind working furiously.“Oh, no... No, not much,” Ivy stammered, her gaze locking onto my handbag. “We only passed each other at a… ahm, shopping, yes. When I was shopping, she bought the bag I was looking forward to buying. They only have two or five in the world.” She pointed weakly at my designer bag.I was genuinely shocked. She had instinctively chosen a lie that involved luxury competition rather than sexual scandal.“Oh, is that so? Hope you didn't get on each other's bad side, seeing you girls love rare expensive things,” Robin said, seemingly reli
Try to make me cry Chapter 10: The True Puppet Master
The Confession and the Betrayal My face changed, I froze. What? My father. I thought he had lost all interest in me already, what now? “It wasn't my idea to send you this document... it was your father.” I stared at his broad back, his body language deliberately closed off. All the fury I had unleashed on the woman in the red dress turned instantly into cold, paralyzing dread. My father. He doesn't even speak to me, yet he speaks to Eddie. Eddie finally turned around, leaning against his desk. “Your father is facing liquidity issues with his latest real estate development. He needs capital injection fast, and he knows I won’t give it to him without collateral.” I processed this information. "So he wants to pull my company under the umbrella of Grayson International? He wants to take the one thing that is truly mine?" "He wants to pull your company under the umbrella of Grayson International," Eddie corrected. "He gets the cash, and I get the controlling interest. And more i
Try to make me cry Chapter 9
Who is this now? I thought bitterness instantly overriding my professionalism. He has a new toy already?They were both focused on each other and hadn't noticed me yet.“You shouldn’t be here in my office, get off me,” Eddie was saying, his voice strained, though he wasn't physically pushing her away.“Oh, come on,” the woman purred, leaning closer. “I know you’ve been having your eyes on me for a while, Mr. Grayson. You’re just too shy to make your move on me.”“I said get off,” he repeated, his tone hardening.“Come on, don't you want me to make the first move?” she said, and then, brazenly, she sat squarely on his lap and licked his ear.My entrance was no longer a matter of choice. It was a required intervention.I’ve seen him uncomfortable before, but this was different—a genuine, tired discomfort. Should I leave? No. I was here for a reason.Then the lady turned her head, following a faint sound, and saw me.“Hey, you… how rude. Can’t you see we’re busy?” she snapped, her tone c
Try to make me cry Chapter 8: The Private Meeting
The moment I entered the mansion, the heavy silence swallowed me whole. Eddie was nowhere to be seen, likely retreating to his separate wing or his office—the predictable pattern of avoidance. I made my way slowly up the grand staircase, my limping steps echoing on the marble, each movement a reminder of the physical cost of the night.The knees were bad. Blood had already seeped through the fine ivory wool of the coat dress, drying to a sickening brown-red color. The pain was sharp, real, and uncomplicated—a welcome change from the complex, psychological agony Eddie inflicted.Once inside my suite, I locked the door, not because I feared him—I knew he wouldn't dare approach my wing tonight—but for the necessary solitude. I stripped off the ruined coat dress, dropped the expensive fabric onto the floor, and assessed the damage. The slap on my face felt like a faint ghost compared to the deep, painful scrapes on both knees.I sat on the edge of the oversized tub, pulling out the first
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