Chapter 111
Chapter 111:
Liam froze.
The blood drained from his face. He looked at Lee, who was frantically checking data on his tablet, his face pale. Lee nodded slowly. She was right. They had been outmaneuvered weeks ago, while Liam was unconscious in the ICU.
“Who is he?” Liam whispered, his voice losing volume but gaining intensity. “Who is Morgan p>
Skye let out a short, soft laugh. Even through the modulator, the cadence was specific—a laugh of genuine amusement, mixed with a hint of pity.
For a second, Liam’s eyes widened. That rhythm. He knew that rhythm. It triggered a memory in the back of his mind—a memory of a woman laughing at a joke he’d made five years ago, before the marriage turned into a cold war.
But the voice was wrong. The gender was wrong. His logical brain dismissed it instantly.
“He is the future, Mr. Kensington,” Skye said. “And you are becoming the past p>
Click.
The dial tone hummed in the silent office. It was a final, dismissive sound that seemed to echo off the wood paneling.
Liam stood there, staring at the phone as if it had bitten him. He felt a sensation he hadn’t felt since childhood—the feeling of being small, of being in a room where the adults were talking and he didn’t understand the language.
“Get out,” Liam said to Lee.
Lee didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted.
Liam walked to the window. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass. He needed to know who this Morgan was. He needed a face to attach to his hatred.
In the Oracle office, Skye set the receiver down gently. She turned off the modulator.
“Harper,” she called out.
Harper Quinn walked in from the adjoining room, carrying a stack of heavy, cream-colored envelopes embossed with gold leaf.
а𝖽𝘥і𝘤𝘁𝘪𝘷e ո𝘰v𝖾𝘭𝗌 о𝗇 𝖻𝗲.𝖼om
“Was that him?” Harper asked, a wicked grin on her face.
“That was him,” Skye said. She picked up one of the envelopes. It was an invitation to the Oracle Masquerade Gala—the debut event for her new empire.
“Are we really inviting him?” Harper asked, sitting on the edge of the desk. “He looked ready to murder someone on the news yesterday p>
“We have to,” Skye said. She picked up a fountain pen.
She didn’t sign it with her own name. She signed it with a flourish: M.
“He needs a target,” Skye said, her eyes cold. “If he’s chasing a ghost named Morgan, he won’t be looking for Skye Sterling. And while he’s busy hunting the hunter, I’ll be dismantling his company brick by brick p>
She handed the envelope to Harper.
“Send it by courier. Make sure it smells like expensive cologne and arrogance p>
Harper laughed. “You’re enjoying this too much p>
Skye turned back to the window. She touched the glass, looking toward the spot where Liam was likely standing.
“I’m not enjoying it, Harper,” she said softly. “I’m just finishing what he started p>
The ballroom of the Grand Hotel was a sea of black ties and designer silk. It was the annual Kensington Global Charity Dinner, an event that used to be the highlight of the social season. Tonight, however, the air was thick with tension. The guests were more interested in the gossip than the cause.