Chapter 13
Chapter 13:
But she didn’t pull away. She nodded, her eyes wide and watery.
“Yes, Grandmother,” Skye lied. “I understand. I will focus on my duties. And my… education. To be a better support to him p>
Beatrice waved a dismissive hand. She interpreted education as a cooking class or etiquette lessons. She had no idea Skye meant a master’s in finance and a hostile takeover of the family assets.
“Get out of my sight,” Beatrice muttered, turning back to the fireplace. “And burn that red dress p>
Skye backed out of the room, her movements jerky and submissive. She reached for the heavy brass handle, pulled the door open, and slipped into the hallway.
The moment the latch clicked shut, the transformation was instantaneous.
Skye’s spine straightened as if a steel rod had been inserted into her back. The tremor in her hands vanished. The fear in her eyes was replaced by cold, arctic clarity. She let out a long, slow breath, expelling the toxic air of the library.
She turned the corner toward the main staircase. As she reached the landing, the massive front double doors downstairs burst open. A gust of wind and rain swept into the foyer, followed by a frantic Liam.
He looked like a man who had seen hell. His suit was rumpled, dusted in fine gray ash. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and rain. He stumbled into the foyer, his chest heaving as if he had run a marathon, his eyes wild as they darted around the grand hall.
Behind him, shivering and soaked to the bone, was Seraphina. She clung to the back of his jacket like a frightened child, her makeup running in dark streaks down her face. They had clearly just arrived from the warehouse.
“Is anyone… did the police call?” Liam choked out, his voice cracking. He braced himself against the wall, his legs shaking.
He looked terrified.
Not worried—terrified.
The terror of a man waiting for a death notification. The terror of a murderer wondering if the body had been found.
𝖳𝘩𝗂ѕ 𝗌𝘁𝗼𝗋𝘺 𝗯еl𝗼𝗻𝗴ѕ 𝘵o 𝘣е.𝖼𝗼𝗆
Skye stood motionless on the landing, looking down at him like an avenging angel. She watched the color drain from his face as his eyes traveled up the stairs and locked onto hers.
Liam froze. His mouth fell open. He blinked rapidly, once, twice, as if trying to clear a hallucination.
“Skye?” he whispered, the name strangling him. His knees buckled, and he gripped the banister for support. “You… you’re here p>
“I’m here, Liam,” Skye said, her voice cool and devoid of emotion. “Where else would I be p>
Liam stared at her, his eyes scanning her body for burns, for blood, for evidence of the explosion he had left her to die in. But he saw only the pristine black blouse and the composed face of his wife.
“But… the warehouse…” Liam stammered, his composure shattering. “I saw… the explosion… the timer… I thought p>
“You thought I was dead?” Skye finished for him, descending one step. The movement sent a sharp spike of pain through her side, but she kept her face impassive. “You left in such a hurry, Liam. I suppose you didn’t look back p>