Chapter 8
Chapter 8:
Skye returned to the main hall, the metal card hidden securely in her clutch. Her heart was still racing from her proximity to Alistair. He was dangerous, yes, but he treated her like an equal. Liam treated her like a prop.
She found Liam near the exit. Seraphina was crying—again—surrounded by a group of elderly matrons.
“She bullied me,” Seraphina sobbed into a handkerchief. “She played that loud music just to scare me p>
It was ridiculous, but the matrons clucked sympathetically. Liam patted her back, looking like the protective hero.
“It’s okay,” Liam soothed. “Skye is just… unstable lately p>
Suddenly, the heavy double oak doors of the museum swung open with a groan.
The room went silent instantly. The air pressure seemed to drop.
An old man walked in. He leaned heavily on a bony cane topped with a silver wolf’s head. He was surrounded by four large bodyguards.
It was Elias Thorne.
The Patriarch.
The Godfather of Sea City.
He was a legend. He hadn’t been seen in public for three years.
Liam straightened immediately, pushing Seraphina slightly behind him. This was his chance. If he could impress Elias Thorne, the Kensington stock would double.
“Mr. Thorne!” Liam called, stepping forward with his most charming smile. “What an honor! I am Liam Kensington, we met at p>
Elias didn’t even look at him. He walked straight past Liam as if he were a piece of furniture.
He stopped in front of the grand staircase. Alistair was descending, looking bored.
“You’re late for Sunday dinner, boy,” Elias grunted. His voice sounded like gravel grinding together.
The crowd gasped.
𝗝𝗈𝗶𝗻 𝗍𝘩𝖾 𝗰𝘰𝗺𝗆uոi𝘁y a𝗍 𝘣𝗲𝗹n𝘰v𝘦𝘭ѕ.𝘤o𝗺
Sunday dinner?
The rumor was that Alistair had been disowned.
“I was busy making money, Grandfather,” Alistair replied smoothly, stopping on the last step.
Elias laughed. It was a terrifying bark of sound.
He clapped Alistair on the shoulder.
It was a public validation. The King had acknowledged the Prince.
Seraphina, seeing the attention shift, stepped forward. She was not a smart woman. She thought she could use the old man’s presence to gather more sympathy.
“Mr. Thorne,” she squeaked. “Your grandson’s friend… she bullied me p>
She pointed a trembling finger at Skye, who was standing near a pillar.
Elias turned his head slowly. His hawk-like eyes landed on Seraphina. He took in her cheap white dress, her tear-stained face, her desperate posture.
“And who are you?” Elias asked. His voice dripped with disdain.
“I… I’m Seraphina. Liam’s…” She trailed off, looking at Liam for help.
Liam opened his mouth, but Elias cut him off.
“The mistress,” Elias finished.
The word cracked like a whip.
Seraphina went pale.
“In my day,” Elias continued, addressing the room at large, “mistresses knew to stay in the shadows. They didn’t crash galas and whine to their betters p>
The insult was fatal. Coming from Elias Thorne, it was a social death sentence.
Liam stepped forward, his face red. “Sir, she is my guest p>
“Then you have poor taste, Kensington,” Elias barked. “And poor judgment p>
Elias turned his gaze to Skye. He looked her up and down. He saw the gold dress. He saw the defiant chin.
“You played well, girl,” Elias grunted. “Rachmaninoff takes guts. Most people play garbage p>
He nodded at Skye.
A nod of respect.
“Come, Alistair,” Elias said. “This place smells of cheap perfume p>
Elias and Alistair walked out together. Alistair cast one last look at Skye—a smirk—before disappearing into the night.
Liam was left standing in the center of the room, humiliated. His social standing had just taken a massive hit.
He turned on Seraphina. The anger he felt toward Elias, toward Skye, toward himself—he focused it entirely on her.
“We’re leaving,” he snarled. “Now p>
Skye watched them go. She took a sip of her champagne.
“Checkmate,” she whispered.