Chapter 73
Chapter 73:
She reached out. Her finger hovered over the red decline button. But that wasn’t enough. Declining was a pause. She needed a stop.
She swiped the screen open. She tapped the contact info. Her thumb hovered over the option at the bottom.
Block Caller.
She pressed it.
The buzzing stopped instantly. The screen went dark. The room was silent again, save for the hum of the refrigerator. Skye let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding for five years. Her shoulders dropped two inches.
Alistair’s lips quirked upward. It wasn’t a smile, exactly. It was a flicker of approval. He picked up a glass of water and handed it to her.
“Hydrate,” he said. “You have a war to fight today. The driver is ready to take you to the Manor whenever you wish to collect your final documents p>
Across the city, in the glass-walled office of Kensington Global, Liam Kensington stood frozen.
He held the receiver to his ear, listening to the abrupt, hollow tone of a disconnected line. He dialed again.
The number you have dialed is not accepting calls at this time.
Blocked.
She had blocked him.
The realization hit him like a physical blow to the gut. It was not sadness. It was shock. Skye didn’t block him. Skye waited by the phone. Skye answered on the first ring. Skye existed to be available to him.
A roar built up in his throat, a primal sound of frustration. He pulled the phone away from his ear and hurled it across the room.
CRASH.
The device hit the floor-to-ceiling window, spiderwebbing the reinforced glass before falling to the carpet, a broken mess of plastic and wire.
Secretary Lee opened the door, a stack of files in his hand. He took one look at the shattered glass and the heaving chest of his boss, and he stepped back.
𝗗і𝘀с𝘰𝗏e𝗋 𝗇𝖾w s𝘵о𝘳𝗂𝖾𝘴 𝗈𝗻 𝗯𝗲.𝘤𝗼𝗆
“Get out!” Liam screamed, his voice cracking. “Get out p>
The door clicked shut.
Liam ran a hand through his hair, gripping the roots until it hurt. He needed to find her. He needed to make her understand that she couldn’t just walk away. She was his wife. She belonged in the Manor.
He grabbed his car keys. He wasn’t going to the office meeting. He was going to the one place she had to return to eventually, to sign the release forms for her mother’s trust.
The Kensington Manor loomed against the gray sky, a monument to old money and cold hearts.
Skye stepped out of the black sedan Alistair had arranged. She thanked the driver, Felix, and instructed him to wait. She stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the house that had been her prison. She was not here to stay. She was here to end it.
She walked up the steps. She pushed open the heavy oak doors.
The air inside was stale, recycled, heavy with the scent of beeswax and the lingering smoke from the bonfires she had ordered days ago.