Chapter 91
Chapter 91:
The intimacy of the gesture was a physical blow. It felt like a hand reaching into Skye’s chest and squeezing her lungs until they collapsed.
Liam looked up and finally saw her. His eyes widened, taking in the black dress, the exposed skin. For a second, there was heat in his gaze, raw, unbidden desire. Then it hardened into confusion and defensiveness.
“You’re late,” Liam snapped, his voice echoing off the marble walls. He sounded breathless, his bravado thin. “And what are you wearing? You look like a widow p>
“Prophetic, isn’t it?” Skye replied, her voice smooth and cool.
Seraphina let out a small, theatrical gasp. She took a step toward Skye, her face twisting into a mask of concern.
“Skye, please,” Seraphina said, reaching out. “Don’t cause a scene. Liam has been so stressed p>
As she reached for Skye, Seraphina’s foot seemed to catch on the edge of the rug. It was a clumsy, calculated stumble. She threw her weight backward, her arms flailing.
Liam moved with the reflexes of a man terrified of losing his prize. He caught Seraphina around the waist, pulling her flush against his chest. He glared at Skye, his jaw tight.
“Watch where you’re going!” Liam shouted. “You almost pushed her p>
The accusation hung in the air, heavy and absurd. Skye hadn’t moved. She hadn’t twitched a muscle. She stood perfectly still, a statue of ice in a room rapidly heating up.
“I didn’t touch her, Liam,” Skye said. She lifted her hand, holding her champagne flute. The liquid inside didn’t even ripple. “And there are cameras. Everywhere p>
She gestured vaguely to the ceiling corners.
Matriarch Beatrice Kensington emerged from the ballroom, her cane tapping a sharp rhythm on the floor. She took one look at the tableau, Liam clutching the white-clad mistress, Skye standing alone in black, and her face turned the color of ash.
“Liam!” Beatrice barked. “I told you she was to stay in the car. Have you lost your mind p>
𝗦𝘵o𝗋і𝖾𝘴 t𝗁а𝘁 𝘸𝘪l𝗹 𝗁𝗈𝗈k уo𝘶 о𝘯 𝗯elո𝗼𝘷𝘦𝘭ѕ.𝘤оm
Liam didn’t let go. If anything, he held Seraphina tighter. “She was feeling faint, Grandmother. And Skye just pushed her p>
“I saw everything,” Beatrice hissed, moving closer. “Skye did not move. You are making a spectacle of yourself. Security! Escort Miss Miller to the exit immediately p>
“This is my private life,” Liam argued, his voice rising. The guests in the ballroom were turning, whispering. “I can support who I want p>
Skye watched him. She watched the man she had loved for five years, the man she had died for in another life, stand there and lie to protect a woman who was bleeding his company dry.
Something inside her finally snapped.
It was not a loud break. It was the quiet, final click of a lock turning.
She set her champagne glass down on a passing waiter’s tray.
“You’re right, Liam,” Skye said. Her voice was so soft, but it carried a weight that made him flinch. “It is your private life. And I no longer wish to be a part of it p>
She pulled her phone from her clutch. She didn’t look at him as she dialed.