Chapter 385
Chapter 385:
On the balcony, Liam reached out. His hand hovered over Skye’s shoulder. He touched her.
Through the binoculars, Alistair saw Skye stiffen. She recoiled sharply, putting distance between them. She said something sharp.
“Good girl,” Alistair whispered.
Liam tried again. He stepped closer, invading her space, his body language aggressive in its pleading.
Alistair dropped the binoculars. He grabbed the radio handset.
“Felix,” he barked. “Get the flare gun p>
“Boss p>
“If he touches her again, I’m putting a flare through the window p>
Back on the balcony, Skye wrapped her arms around herself.
“I feel like I’m finally seeing you,” Liam was saying, his voice carried away by the wind. “For the first time p>
“You’re seeing a ghost, Liam,” Skye replied. “The Skye you want is dead. You killed her p>
She turned and went inside, locking the door with a definitive click. She pulled the curtains shut.
Liam stayed outside. He leaned against the railing, watching the smoke from his fireworks drift away into nothingness.
Alistair watched Liam through the scope. He saw the defeat in the man’s posture.
“One wrong move, Kensington,” Alistair whispered, “and you go overboard p>
Felix wiped his mouth again. “Boss, the director is radioing us. They’re picking up our transponder p>
Alistair took the radio.
“Unidentified vessel,” Director Gordon’s voice crackled, sounding angry. “You are in a restricted filming zone. Identify yourself p>
Alistair pressed the transmit button. He put a handkerchief over the mic to distort his voice.
“Just a humble fisherman,” he drawled, affecting a rough accent. “Engine trouble. Drifting p>
“Well, drift somewhere else!” Gordon yelled.
Alistair cut the feed. He looked at the captain.
Dіscо𝗏𝗲𝗿 𝘯е𝘄 s𝗍𝗼𝗿іе𝗌 o𝘯 bel𝗻𝗈𝘃е𝘭ѕ.с𝗼𝗆
“Drop anchor here,” Alistair said. “We’re staying for the show p>
The sun rose with a vengeance, baking the island in heat.
Day 3. Challenge: “Island Survival p>
The producers gathered the cast on the beach. They looked gleeful.
“Today, we strip away the luxury,” the host announced. “Watches, jewelry—into the bag p>
Liam hesitated before handing over his platinum credit cards. He looked naked without them.
“Task One,” the host shouted. “Procure lunch from the local village. You have no money. You must barter p>
Skye smirked. This was going to be good.
They walked to the village. It was a collection of colorful shacks selling fruit and fish.
Liam walked confidently up to a vendor selling grilled skewers. “I am Liam Kensington,” he announced, flashing his CEO smile. “I would like four skewers. Put it on my tab. My assistant will wire you the funds p>
The vendor, an old woman with a face like tanned leather, stared at him blankly.
“Cash,” she said.
“I don’t have cash,” Liam explained slowly, as if talking to a child. “I own Kensington Global. I own the bank you probably use p>
The woman waved a fly swatter at him. “No cash, no food p>
Liam stood there, baffled. He had never been refused in his life. The concept of his name having no currency was alien to him.