Chapter 197
Chapter 197:
She looked like a queen of the underworld.
“Announcing Ms. Skye Sterling, CEO of Oracle Holdings,” the doorman boomed.
Conversation stopped. Heads turned.
Skye descended the stairs alone. She didn’t look for approval. She looked for targets.
Outside the ballroom doors, Liam argued with security. He’d bought a ticket—Kensington Global was a donor, after all—but the guards were hesitant. Finally, they let him in, though they shadowed him closely.
He stood with a glass of water, his cast hidden beneath a specially tailored jacket sleeve. He looked better than he had at the funeral—cleaned up and shaved—but his eyes were still haunted. When he saw Skye, his jaw dropped.
“Skye,” he breathed.
She walked right past him without blinking.
Across the room, Alistair stood near the orchestra. Victoria Hayes clung to his arm like a barnacle. She wore a white dress that looked suspiciously like a wedding gown. She leaned close, whispering in his ear, laughing.
Alistair looked miserable. When he saw Skye, he straightened, trying to pull his arm away from Victoria.
Victoria saw Skye too. Her smile tightened. She leaned in closer, staking her claim.
Skye felt a stab of pain—but she turned it into fuel. She walked straight to the bar.
“Champagne,” she ordered. “The whole bottle p>
“Thirsty p>
Liam was beside her. He looked at her with a mix of longing and regret. “You look… incredible p>
“I know,” Skye said, taking a glass. “And I’m celebrating p>
“Celebrating what p>
“My freedom,” Skye said. She clinked her glass against his water. “And your impending bankruptcy. I heard the Harrison scandal cost you the Disney contract p>
𝘚𝗍𝗈𝘳𝗶𝖾𝘀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝘁 𝘸і𝘭𝘭 𝗁оo𝘬 𝗒оu оո be.cо𝗆
Liam winced. “Skye, can we not talk business? Can we just… talk? I miss you p>
“I don’t miss you,” Skye said breezily. “I don’t think about you at all p>
She turned her back on him and walked toward a group of elderly men—the board members of a tech startup she wanted to acquire. Within ten minutes, she’d charmed them, discussed valuation, and verbally agreed to a buyout.
She was in her element. She was powerful. She didn’t need Alistair.
“Well, well,” a high, cultured voice interrupted her victory lap. “The dead wife walks p>
Skye turned. Victoria Hayes stood there holding a martini. Up close, she was flawless—porcelain skin, icy blue eyes.
“And the desperate ex-girlfriend returns,” Skye countered smoothly. “Did you lose your luggage, or is that dress supposed to look like a napkin p>
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “Alistair told me about you. The charity case. The broken bird he felt sorry for p>
“Is that what he said?” Skye took a sip of champagne. “Funny. He didn’t mention you at all. I had to read about you in the tabloids. You must be very forgettable p>
Victoria flushed. Her hand lifted, maybe to throw her drink, but Alistair appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her wrist.