Chapter 20
Chapter 20:
“I said no,” Skye repeated. She pulled her arm free with a sharp jerk. “I am reclaiming the life I threw away for you, Liam. I am not your accessory. I am not your child. I am a Sterling p>
She straightened her trench coat. “Watch me p>
She turned and began to walk toward the imposing stone building of the Exam Hall.
Liam’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Seraphina.
He pulled it out. The screen flashed her smiling face. Usually, he would answer immediately. Usually, her neediness was a balm to his ego.
But right now, watching Skye’s retreating back—her head held high, her stride purposeful—he felt a magnetic pull he couldn’t explain.
He hit Decline.
He stared at the phone, surprised by his own action.
As Skye approached the steps of the Exam Hall, the roar of an engine cut through the air. A bright yellow McLaren sports car screeched around the corner, hitting a puddle.
A sheet of dirty water flew into the air, aiming straight for Skye. Liam flinched, about to shout a warning.
But Skye didn’t need saving. Without breaking stride, she pivoted on her heel, spinning away from the splash.
The sudden torque twisted her injured torso violently. A white-hot lance of pain shot through her bruised ribs, nearly buckling her knees. She gasped, biting her lip hard enough to taste copper, forcing her body to remain upright through sheer willpower.
The water missed her by an inch.
The McLaren skidded to a halt. The driver’s door opened.
A young man stepped out. He was devastatingly handsome in a chaotic, messy way—tousled hair, designer sunglasses, chewing gum. He wore a leather jacket over a T-shirt that cost more than a Honda.
Ethan Vance. The playboy brother of the Vance family patriarch.
𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦.𝘤𝘰𝘮
Ethan took off his sunglasses, looking at Skye. He whistled low.
“Nice moves, sweetheart,” Ethan called out, grinning. “Reflexes like a cat p>
Skye paused at the top of the stairs, her hand pressing discreetly against her side to stabilize her throbbing ribs. She looked down at him. She didn’t smile. She didn’t blush.
“Park somewhere else,” she said flatly, her voice tight with suppressed pain. “You’re blocking the fire lane p>
She pushed the heavy doors open and vanished inside.
Ethan Vance laughed, tossing his keys to a gaping student. “I think I’m going to like this class p>
Liam watched from a distance, his hands curling into fists. He didn’t like the way Vance looked at her. He didn’t like any of this.
The lecture theater was a vast amphitheater of silence. Two hundred desks were spaced with military precision. The air smelled of graphite and anxiety.
Skye found her seat—Row G, Seat 12. She sat down, placing her pens and ID card on the desk. She closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself.
This was her battlefield. This was where she began to build the arsenal that would destroy Kensington Global.