Chapter 915
He gave a single nod to the massive bodyguard stationed by the exit.
The man drew a gun.
The gun leveled at Alistair’s chest.
Skye froze. She was ten feet away, holding a broken champagne bottle. She couldn’t reach him in time.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened again.
“Put it down,” a voice commanded. Smooth. Bored. Dangerous.
Liam Kensington walked out. He wasn’t alone. Behind him stood a phalanx of lawyers in grey suits, and behind them, a private security team armed with assault rifles.
The bodyguard with the gun hesitated.
“I said,” Liam walked straight up to the barrel, pushed it aside with one finger, and looked the man in the eye, “put it down.”
𝗕𝖾 th𝘦 𝗳𝗶𝘳ѕ𝘁 to r𝖾𝖺d 𝗈𝘯 𝘨𝗮𝘭𝗇𝗼𝘃𝘦𝗹ѕ.𝖼оm
The man lowered the weapon. Liam Kensington had an aura that made armed men feel underdressed.
“Mr. Kensington,” Silas said, his composure cracking for the first time. “This is a Thorne family matter.”
“Actually,” Liam turned to face the room, “it’s a shareholder matter.”
He snapped his fingers. One of the grey-suited lawyers stepped forward and handed him a file.
“As of this morning,” Liam announced, his voice carrying effortlessly over the shaken crowd, “Kensington Global has acquired five percent of Thorne Group’s floating stock.”
Beatrice scoffed. “Five percent? That’s nothing. We have the majority.”
“Five percent gives me a seat at this table,” Liam said. He looked at Alistair. “And it gives me the right to call for a quorum count.”
Alistair wiped blood from his lip. He grinned — a feral, terrifying expression. “And with my twenty percent…”
“Still not enough,” Silas interrupted. “Beatrice controls forty percent.”
“Does she?” Skye stepped forward. She reached into her clutch and drew out a small, wrinkled envelope. It smelled of old paper and peppermint — Grandpa Thorne’s scent.
“Grandpa gave this to me before the party started,” she said. It had actually been mailed to her three days ago, a contingency plan he had set in motion months earlier, knowing Beatrice was circling. “It’s a transfer of voting rights. Ten percent of his personal shares, gifted to Skye Sterling.”
Beatrice’s face went the color of curdled milk. “He… he wouldn’t.”
“He knew what you were, Beatrice,” Alistair said. “He protected his legacy.”
“Twenty plus five plus ten,” Liam said aloud. “Thirty-five percent.”
“We have thirty percent,” Silas countered. “And Beatrice holds the remaining thirty.”
“Actually,” Liam tapped the screen where the bank transfer still glowed, “since Beatrice used embezzled funds to facilitate your buy-in, those shares are currently under SEC investigation. They’re frozen. Which means…”
“Your effective voting power is only Silas’s twenty percent,” Skye finished. “Thirty-five beats twenty.”
Silence stretched across the rooftop.
Silas looked at Liam, then at Skye. Slowly, he began to clap — a measured, mocking rhythm.
“Well played,” he said. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Is that it?”
“Something like that,” Liam said. “Now get out of my building. I bought the Onyx Lounge this morning as well. You’re trespassing.”