Chapter 1058
Skye clutched the edge of the wooden box and pulled it tight against her chest. The tears finally came—silent and hot, dripping onto the polished wood.
You idiot, she thought, her heart breaking for the man who had loved her in the only way he knew how. Through strategy and sacrifice.
Liam watched her cry from the window, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He felt a profound, bitter ache in his chest. He couldn’t be jealous of a dead man, but he was humbled by the sheer magnitude of Julian’s devotion.
Julian had given her an empire. Liam had only given her scars.
Suddenly, the harsh buzz of a cell phone shattered the quiet.
Liam pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen flashed: Kensington Legal — URGENT.
He answered, pressing the phone to his ear. “Speak.”
He listened for thirty seconds. His posture stiffened, the exhaustion draining from his face, replaced by the cold, hard edge of a CEO preparing for war.
“Delay the vote. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Liam hung up and looked at Skye.
“The Kensington board is panicking,” Liam said, his voice flat and professional. “Bastian’s disappearance has leaked. He leveraged Bastian’s crimes to oust a few key directors and secure temporary control, but the stock is still hovering at rock bottom and the opposition is actively regrouping. They’re calling an emergency meeting to strip me of my CEO title and liquidate the assets.”
Skye wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The grief was still there, a heavy stone in her chest, but the fire was returning to her eyes.
“Go,” Skye said, her voice raspy but firm. “Don’t let them tear apart what you bled to save. Finish Bastian’s rot.”
Liam walked to the bed. He hesitated for a moment, then leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. His beard scratched her skin, but his lips were warm.
“Rest,” Liam whispered. “I’ll come back when the blood is cleaned up.”
He turned and strode out of the room—a soldier heading back to the front lines.
Alistair pulled up a chair and sat heavily beside the bed. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m your shadow until you can walk out of here.”
Skye offered him a weak, grateful smile.
She looked back into the black wooden box. Her fingers brushed the velvet lining at the very bottom, and she felt a small, hard lump hidden beneath the fabric.
She peeled back the velvet.
Sitting in the hidden compartment was a single, carved ivory chess piece.
The Queen.
Skye picked it up, rolling the smooth ivory between her fingers. A small, sad smile touched her lips.
Julian had conceded the game. He had acknowledged her as the ultimate victor on the board.
The King was dead. Long live the Queen.
Two weeks later.
The glass doors of Oracle Holdings headquarters slid open with a soft hiss.
The morning lobby chatter died instantly.