Chapter 232
Chapter 232:
“So you traded lives for liquidity,” Skye said. “That’s who you are, Liam.”
“No!” Liam looked up, his eyes wet. “That’s not me! I’m a good man! I loved you!”
“You loved owning me,” Skye corrected. “And when I stopped being an asset, you tried to liquidate me.”
“I can fix this,” Liam said, reaching across the table. “Skye, listen. We can combine the companies. Sterling and Kensington. We can spin the accident as a contractor error. We can be a power couple again. Think about it. We were unstoppable.”
Skye looked at his hand. It was shaking.
“There is no ‘we,’ Liam,” she said. “There is me. And there is you, going to prison.”
“Liam!”
The shriek tore through the office’s hushed atmosphere like a chainsaw.
Seraphina Miller stood at the entrance. She had bypassed the receptionist. She wore a trench coat over her maternity dress, her hair wild, her face streaked with mascara.
“You’re meeting her?” Seraphina screamed, storming toward the table. “After everything? I’m carrying your child, and you’re having settlement talks with the woman who tried to destroy—”
The lawyers in the hallway stared through the glass walls. Liam stood up, panicked. “Seraphina, lower your voice. Go back to the car.”
“No!” Seraphina grabbed a glass of water from the table. “I hate you! I hate both of you!”
She threw the water.
It wasn’t aimed at Liam.
It was aimed at Skye.
Skye didn’t flinch. She grabbed the linen napkin from the tray and raised it in one fluid motion, catching the brunt of the icy water. A few drops splashed onto her cheek, but her suit remained pristine.
Seraphina stood there, panting, the empty glass in her hand.
Skye slowly lowered the napkin. She rose to her feet. She was taller than Seraphina in her heels.
“Are you done?” Skye asked calmly.
“You bitch!” Seraphina lunged forward, raising her hand to scratch.
Skye caught Seraphina’s wrist midair. Her grip was iron.
о𝘳𝗴𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝗲 𝗒𝗼𝘶𝗿 𝗋e𝖺𝖽𝘪𝘯𝗴 𝘭і𝗌𝘁 𝗈𝗇 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘯о𝘷e𝗹ѕ.𝘤𝗈𝘮
“I am done being polite,” Skye said.
She didn’t slap Seraphina. That was too emotional. Instead, she twisted Seraphina’s wrist, forcing her body to turn, and shoved her.
Seraphina stumbled back, collided with a rolling file cart, lost her balance, and fell hard onto the carpet.
Seraphina screamed as she hit the ground. “My baby! The stress! She’s hurting the baby!”
Liam rushed to her. “Seraphina! Are you okay?”
Skye looked down at them. The pathetic tableau: Liam kneeling, holding a woman who was faking a miscarriage to cover up a black-market adoption.
“She’s fine, Liam,” Skye said coldly. “The padding protected her.”
“Padding?” Liam looked up, confused.
“Ask her about the fifty thousand dollars sent to Minsk,” Skye whispered, leaning closer. “Ask her about the wire transfer to Eastern Europe last month.”
Seraphina stopped screaming instantly. Her eyes went wide with terror.
“What?” Liam asked, looking between them. “What wire transfer?”
“Ask her,” Skye repeated. “And ask her why she’s walking around in heels if she’s on medical parole for high-risk complications.”
Skye tossed a hundred-dollar bill onto the table. “For the cleaning bill.”