Chapter 150
Chapter 150:
She was shivering. Her coat was thin, and the dampness from her wet pant legs was seeping up her calves.
A car slowed down in front of her. For a second, her heart leaped. Liam?
The window rolled down. It wasn’t Liam. It was her mother.
Alice looked worse than usual. Her face was gaunt, her eyes darting around with the frantic energy of an addict looking for a fix.
“Get in,” Alice hissed.
“I don’t have any money, Mom,” Seraphina said, stepping back. “I told you. Liam cut me off p>
“You have a job now,” Alice said, her gaze dropping to Seraphina’s uniform. “Janitor? Really? That’s the best you could do p>
“It’s temporary,” Seraphina snapped. “Drive me to the motel p>
“I need five hundred,” Alice said, not unlocking the doors. “The guys from the casino… they aren’t asking nicely anymore, Sarah p>
“Don’t call me Sarah!” Seraphina shrieked, looking around wildly to see if anyone heard. “My name is Seraphina p>
“Your name is whatever pays the bills,” Alice spat. “Get me the money by tomorrow, or I’ll come to that warehouse and scream your real name until everyone knows who you really are p>
The car screeched away, leaving Seraphina standing in a puddle of dirty rainwater.
Flash.
A blinding white light went off in her face. Seraphina blinked, stunned. A paparazzi photographer lowered his camera from across the street. He had captured it all: the uniform, the screaming mother, the squalor.
“Great shot, Ms. Miller!” the photographer yelled. “Love the new look! Very chic p>
Seraphina covered her face with her hands and ran toward the bus stop, her sobs lost in the sound of traffic.
Twenty minutes later, a red Ferrari turned into the long, winding driveway of the Kensington Manor. The engine purred with a deep, throaty growl that disturbed the quiet dignity of the estate. Skye shifted gears, feeling the power of the machine respond to her touch.
𝖩𝘰i𝘯 𝘵𝘩o𝘶ѕа𝗇𝘥𝗌 𝗈𝘧 𝗋е𝗮𝖽е𝘳s 𝗈𝗻 𝘣𝗲𝗅ո𝗼𝗏𝖾ls.𝖼оm
She pulled up to the front entrance. Another car was already there—Liam’s black sedan.
He was standing by the trunk, looking at his phone. He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were bruises against his pale skin. He looked up as the Ferrari engine cut.
Skye opened the door and stepped out.
She wasn’t wearing black. She wasn’t wearing grey. She was wearing a blood-red dress—structured, sharp, with a neckline that plunged just enough to be dangerous and a slit up the leg that showed the muscle tone she had built in the gym. She wore the silver hawk brooch on her lapel.
Liam stared at her. His phone slid from his hand and clattered on the gravel. He didn’t even look down to see if it was broken.
“Skye,” he breathed. He took a step toward her, his hand reaching out instinctively. “You came back p>
Skye slammed the car door shut. She locked it with a beep.