Chapter 362
Chapter 362:
Skye stood up. “No. Absolutely not p>
“Hear me out,” Julian raised a hand. “It’s the highest-rated format right now. Ex-Files: Reunited. It puts former couples in a house for a week to ‘resolve their issues.’ It broadcasts live p>
“You want me to live in a house with Liam?” Skye asked, her voice rising. “Are you insane? He’s unstable p>
“I want you to dominate him on national television,” Julian corrected. “Graves watches this show. He’s an investor in the network. If you go on there, and you show the world that you are cold, calculating, and beautiful… Graves will come to you p>
He leaned forward slightly, eyes bright.
“He loves a challenge p>
Skye walked to the window, looking at her reflection.
She saw the tiredness in her eyes.
“It’s a circus,” she whispered.
“It’s a battlefield,” Julian said behind her. “And you’re the best soldier I know p>
Skye closed her eyes.
She thought of her parents. She thought of the car crash. She thought of the justice she still hadn’t gotten.
“Fine,” she said, turning back to him. “But I want editorial control over my confessionals p>
“Done,” Julian said. He tried to adjust his position, grimacing in pain. “I’ll set it up p>
He motioned for the nurse to wheel him out.
Skye picked up her phone and dialed Alistair.
He answered on the first ring.
“Hey,” his voice was deep, grounding. “I heard about Catherine’s little visit. Are you okay p>
“She’s fine. I’m fine,” Skye said. “Alistair… I did something p>
Silence on the other end.
He knew that tone.
“What did you do, Skye p>
“I signed with Julian. I’m going on a reality show. With Liam p>
𝗧𝗵𝘪ѕ cо𝗇t𝖾𝗻𝗍 𝘪𝗌 𝘢u𝗍hе𝗇tі𝗰 𝖿𝗋𝘰𝗺 b𝘦.𝗰о𝘮
The silence stretched.
It was heavy, loaded with unsaid words.
“To get to Graves?” he asked finally. His voice was tight, controlled.
“Yes. It’s the fastest way to get invited to his table p>
“I’m coming to pick you up,” Alistair said. “We need to talk. Not over the phone p>
“Alistair p>
“Be downstairs in ten minutes p>
The line clicked dead.
Skye looked in the mirror again.
She practiced a smile.
It was dazzling. It was fake. It was perfect.
The wind whipped Skye’s hair across her face as she stood on the curb outside Oracle Holdings.
Alistair’s black SUV screeched to a halt in front of her, the tires mounting the sidewalk slightly. It was an aggressive arrival.
She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. The interior smelled of leather and Alistair’s sandalwood cologne, but there was an underlying scent of something metallic: tension.
Alistair didn’t look at her. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. His jaw was set in a hard line, a muscle ticking rhythmically in his cheek.
“Drive,” Skye said softly.