Chapter 95
Chapter 95:
He laughed. It was a dry, incredulous sound. “Is this what tonight was about? A tantrum? You disappear for an hour and come back with paperwork p>
“I almost died tonight, Liam,” Skye said, her voice devoid of emotion.
Liam rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop being dramatic. You drive too fast. You always have p>
“My brake lines were cut p>
Liam froze. The glass halted halfway to his mouth. “What p>
“Someone cut my brake lines. I have the car in a secure location. I have photos p>
“That’s impossible,” Liam said, setting the glass down. “Who would do that? Did you cut them yourself to frame me p>
The accusation hit her like a physical slap. He didn’t ask if she was okay. He asked if she was framing him.
“You are pathetic,” Skye whispered.
Liam stood up, anger flushing his cheeks. He walked around the table, closing the distance between them.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I am your husband p>
He reached out to grab her arm, a reflex to control her.
Skye didn’t flinch. As his hand closed around her wrist, she moved. She twisted her arm outward, breaking his grip against the thumb—a simple Krav Maga technique she had learned in her months of preparation. In the same motion, she shoved him in the chest.
It wasn’t a hard shove, but it was precise.
Liam stumbled back, his heel catching on the peeling linoleum. He caught himself on the sofa, staring at her in shock.
“Don’t touch me,” Skye said. “Not ever again p>
“Since when do you…” Liam trailed off, looking at her hands. They were steady now.
“Sign the papers, Liam. Give me the shares. Or I go to the police about the car. And I let them investigate every member of this family p>
“You have no proof,” Liam sneered, though his voice wavered.
𝗔𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗳𝗮𝘷o𝗋і𝗍e 𝘨eո𝘳𝖾ѕ 𝘰𝗇 𝘣e𝗅𝘯𝗈𝗏𝘦𝘭ѕ.co𝗺
“I will find it,” Skye promised. “And when I do, I won’t just divorce you. I will bury you p>
She turned and left the apartment, the buzzing of the cheap light fixture the only sound following her out. She didn’t look back.
She went to the car and drove to the Sterling Estate.
Uncle Arthur was awake, pacing in his living room. He looked up when Skye entered, his face gray.
“Where is Victor?” Skye asked.
“I don’t know,” Arthur stammered. “He left the gala early p>
Skye pulled out her phone. She showed him a photo she had taken under the car. Then she showed him a timestamped log from the garage security cameras she had hacked on the way over. It showed a figure that looked suspiciously like Victor entering the garage minutes before she left.
“He cut my brakes, Arthur,” Skye said. “Attempted murder p>
Arthur collapsed onto the sofa. “No. No, he wouldn’t. He was drunk. He was angry about the trust fund p>