Chapter 182
Chapter 182:
“No,” Liam whispered.
He reached out with a trembling hand and took the bag. He clutched it to his chest, curling around it as if to protect it from the rain, as if his body heat could bring the owner back.
“No, no, no, no p>
The denial turned into a moan—a low, guttural sound of pure agony that tore through his throat. He fell forward, his forehead resting on the wet sand, the bag pressed against his heart.
She was gone.
The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. The finality of it. He would never hear her voice again. He would never see her roll her eyes at his jokes. He would never get the chance to fix this, to tell her he was sorry, to tell her he loved her more than the company, more than the legacy, more than anything.
“Boss,” Lee said softly, placing a hand on Liam’s heaving shoulder. “We have to go. Beatrice called. She… she has convened an emergency board meeting. She’s moving to take control of the narrative p>
Liam snapped.
He stood up, swaying slightly, his eyes burning with a terrifying light. He clutched the shoe in one hand, the other curled into a fist so tight his fingernails drew blood from his palm.
“Tell Beatrice,” Liam snarled, his voice raspy and broken, “that if she speaks to the press, I will burn that manor to the ground with her inside it p>
He turned and walked toward the waiting cars, clutching the dead woman’s shoe like it was a holy relic. He didn’t look back at the ocean. He couldn’t.
High above the beach, on a cliff overlooking the scene, a black drone hovered silently in the storm, its camera lens zooming in on Liam’s devastating grief.
Miles away, in the penthouse office of Oracle Holdings—a location unknown to the Kensington family—Skye stood in front of a massive wall of monitors. She watched the live feed from the drone. She saw Liam fall to his knees. She saw him cradle the shoe she had instructed Alistair to plant in the rocks.
She took a sip of red wine. The liquid was rich and complex, tasting of dark fruit and oak.
𝖢o𝗆рl𝗲t𝘦 𝗰ha𝗉𝘵е𝗿ѕ 𝗼𝘯 𝗯𝘦.𝘤о𝘮
“He looks destroyed,” Gabriel Ross said from behind her. The actor leaned against the doorframe, watching the screen with a mixture of awe and fear. “Does that satisfy the objective p>
Skye watched Liam stumble toward the car. She remembered the cold water filling her lungs. She remembered the years of neglect. She remembered him choosing Seraphina over her, time and time again.
“Pain is a currency, Gabriel,” Skye said, turning away from the screen. “He’s just making his first deposit p>
She walked to her desk and picked up her phone.
“Prepare the package from the vault,” she ordered. “The crimson one. I wore it once in Paris, years ago, when I thought life could be beautiful p>
And, Gabriel p>
“Yes, Ms. S p>
“Make sure it’s pressed. It needs to look like fresh arterial blood p>
The headline on the Financial Times was stark and unforgiving: HEIRESS LOST AT SEA: SKYE KENSINGTON PRESUMED DEAD. Beneath it, a smaller, more vicious tabloid headline screamed: KENSINGTON CURSE? STOCK PLUMMETS AMID DRUG SCANDAL AND TRAGEDY.