Chapter 224
Chapter 224:
“You are safe now,” Beatrice said.
She didn’t offer comfort; she stated a fact.
“You are carrying a Kensington. That makes you valuable. But do not think for a second I have forgotten your failures. You are here because I need a shield p>
Beatrice reached into a velvet box on the table beside her. She pulled out a necklace—heavy, archaic, dripping with sapphires and diamonds.
It was the Kensington bridal necklace.
The one Skye had never been allowed to wear.
“This belongs to the mother of the future CEO,” Beatrice said.
Seraphina’s eyes widened. The greed in them was naked, raw.
She stepped closer, presenting her neck.
Beatrice fastened the heavy clasp. The cold metal bit into Seraphina’s skin. It looked less like jewelry and more like a collar.
“Do not mistake this for affection, girl,” Beatrice whispered into Seraphina’s ear. “You are here because I need a weapon against Skye Sterling. You will play the victim. You will cry on camera. You will make the world hate her for putting a pregnant woman in a cage p>
Seraphina touched the diamonds. They felt like power. They felt like victory.
But beneath the greed, a darker thought coiled in her mind.
She still had the insurance policy. The secrets she had hinted at in prison. The location of the body that could destroy the Thorne legacy.
If Beatrice tried to discard her after the baby was born, Seraphina would burn the whole house down.
“I will destroy her,” Seraphina promised.
Beatrice leaned back.
“See that you do. Because if you fail me, prison will seem like a vacation compared to what I will do to you p>
The “Kensington Resilience Gala” was a hastily organized affair, held not at the Met, but in the grand ballroom of Kensington Manor itself. After the scandal at the film premiere, no public venue would host them. It was a desperate attempt to rally the remaining loyalists and display a united front.
𝘕o 𝘮𝗶𝘴s𝗂n𝗴 с𝗵𝖺𝗽𝘵𝗲𝘳ѕ 𝘰𝗻 𝗯е.𝘤о𝗆
Liam Kensington stood by the entrance, his tuxedo feeling like a straitjacket. He adjusted his cuffs, feeling the phantom pain in his broken arm—healed, but still aching in the damp night air.
“Smile, Liam,” Beatrice hissed from her seated position nearby. “The livestream is on p>
Liam forced the corners of his mouth up. It felt like stretching old rubber. He looked around the room. It was half-empty. The city’s elite had stayed away, fearing the contagion of the Kensington name. Only the second-tier socialites and those who owed Beatrice money had shown up.
“They love us,” Seraphina whispered, clutching Liam’s arm. She wore white, a flowing Grecian gown that emphasized the swell of her belly. “Don’t look so constipated, Liam p>
“I’m looking for the exit,” Liam muttered.
“She won’t come,” Seraphina said dismissively, following his gaze. “She knows she’s won. Why would she bother p>