Chapter 313
Chapter 313:
“And Channel 4 News,” he continued, standing now, towering over the desk, his breathing erratic. “I spent three hundred million dollars of the emergency fund before breakfast, Skye. I killed the story. The replays of the gala are gone. I scrubbed the internet p>
He stopped a foot away from her. She could smell stale scotch on his breath and the underlying scent of fear.
“You… you drained the company’s emergency liquidity?” Skye whispered, horror dawning—not at his power, but at his stupidity. “To stop a video that went viral eight hours ago? Liam, you can’t buy the internet. You just bankrupted yourself for nothing p>
“It’s not for nothing!” he roared, slamming his fist on the desk. “It’s for the narrative! If I control the news, I control the truth! Seraphina was a mistake. A plant by Dominic Thorne. I was the victim! That’s the story p>
He reached out and grabbed her wrist. His grip was tight, desperate.
“Don’t you see?” he pleaded. “I’m doing this for us. I’m cleaning up the mess. Seraphina is in jail. I put her there. I cooperated with the police the moment the cameras turned off. It’s just us now. We can go back to how it was. Before the lies p>
He brought his other hand up to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed her skin.
Skye felt bile rise in her throat. The sheer delusion of it. He thought he could edit reality like a spreadsheet. He thought that because Seraphina was gone, the slate was wiped clean. He had forgotten the three years of neglect, the humiliation, the fact that Gabriel Ross was lying in a coma because of his negligence.
She didn’t slap him. That would have been passion.
Instead, she looked at him with pure, unadulterated disgust. Her expression twisted into something you wore after stepping in rot on the sidewalk.
“You make me sick,” she said clearly.
She yanked her wrist out of his grip. He was so shocked by the deadness in her eyes that his fingers went slack.
“You can buy every newspaper in the world, Liam,” she spat, backing toward the door. “You can burn every legal document. But you will never, ever rewrite what you did. You chose her. Over and over again. And now, you drown with her p>
She turned and walked out. She didn’t run. She walked with the rhythmic click-clack of her heels, each step sounding like nails in a coffin.
𝘙𝖾а𝖽 wit𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝗰𝘂t𝘀 𝗈n 𝖻𝗲.c𝗈𝗆
Behind her, she heard a sound—heavy, dull, like a body hitting a chair. Then wheezing breath.
Inside the office, Liam collapsed into his leather chair. He clutched his chest, his heart hammering an irregular rhythm against his ribs. The look on her face—the disgust—cut deeper than the knife Crystal had held to her throat months ago.
The door opened softly. Secretary Lee entered, holding a tablet. His face was pale.
“Sir,” Lee said tentatively. “The board is calling. And… the SEC is online in two. They’re asking about the three hundred million dollar transfer to the media groups. They’re calling it embezzlement p>
Liam stared at the wall. He saw the red line on the graph in his mind, falling, falling, falling.
The holding cells smelled of bleach, urine, and despair. It was a cold concrete box that seemed to suck the heat right out of your bones, a stark contrast to the plush velvet and champagne of the gala only twelve hours prior.
Seraphina Miller sat on the metal bench, shivering uncontrollably. The police had taken her stolen gown as evidence, leaving her in an oversized, rough gray jumpsuit that scratched her skin. Her face was a mask of smeared mascara and sheer terror.
“Call Liam!” she had screamed when they dragged her in. “Tell him it’s a mistake! Call Liam p>
But Liam hadn’t come. No one had come.