Chapter 856
“I didn’t have to,” Skye said. “You carried the evidence with you. We simply picked it up.” She let the words land. “We gave everything to the SEC ten minutes ago.”
The color drained from Celeste’s face.
“You bitch,” she hissed.
“I prefer ‘CEO,’” Skye said calmly. “I move to remove Celeste Cain from all positions immediately and to freeze her assets pending a federal investigation.”
“Seconded,” Lucian said.
“All in favor?” Skye asked.
Every hand in the room went up.
“Motion carried,” Skye said. “Get out of my chair.”
Celeste looked around the room. She was cornered. Her eyes darted to the window, then to the door.
Two federal agents stepped into the room. “Ms. Cain? You’re under arrest for corporate fraud and embezzlement.”
Celeste straightened her jacket with deliberate composure. She fixed her gaze on Skye, and what lived in her eyes was pure, distilled hatred.
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“You think you’ve won?” she whispered as the agents cuffed her. “The Mastermind doesn’t lose. He just changes the board. And your friends are still rotting in a cage.”
“Who is the Mastermind?” Skye demanded.
Celeste smiled. “Ask Liam.” She tilted her head. “Oh, wait — he’s dying, isn’t he?”
She was still laughing as they dragged her out.
The boardroom cleared out quickly, leaving Skye, Alistair, and Lucian alone in the silence of victory.
“It felt too easy,” Alistair said, frowning. “She gave up too fast.”
“She didn’t have a choice,” Lucian said. “We had her on everything.”
The elevator doors pinged.
Beatrice Kensington was wheeled in by a nurse. She looked frail — her iron-gray hair thinner than Skye remembered — but her eyes were still sharp as ever.
“You did it,” Beatrice rasped.
Skye looked at the woman who had made her life hell for years. “We saved the company, Beatrice. Not for you. For Liam.”
Beatrice nodded slowly. “I know. I was wrong about you, Skye. You have the Sterling steel.”
“Save the compliments,” Skye said. “Where is Liam?”
“He’s awake,” Beatrice said. “He wants to see you.”
The building shook.
A massive boom rolled through the tower. The floor lurched beneath their feet and the windows rattled violently in their frames.
“What the hell?” Alistair shouted, sprinting to the window.
Down on the street, a plume of black smoke was rising from a convoy of black SUVs.
“The federal transport,” Lucian said, his face grim. “They just hit the convoy carrying Celeste.”
Skye ran to the window. The street below was a war zone — burning metal, shattered glass, sirens already wailing in the distance.
“That wasn’t a car bomb,” Alistair said, pointing to the sky where a drone was buzzing away into the gray. “That was a precision strike. A Hellfire missile.”
“Plan B,” Skye whispered, Celeste’s parting taunt echoing in her mind. “The Mastermind — he’s cleaning up loose ends.”
“She was going to talk,” Alistair said. “He couldn’t risk it.”
A wave of nausea moved through Skye. Celeste had been evil, but she had also been their last living link to the prison. And now she was ash.