Chapter 193
Chapter 193:
The car door opened. A large black umbrella unfolded.
Alistair Thorne stepped out. He was dry, warm, and impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit. He walked over to the gate, looking at Liam with a mixture of amusement and disgust.
“You look like a drowned rat, Kensington,” Alistair said.
“Go to hell,” Liam chattered. “I’m not leaving p>
“No, you’re not leaving,” Alistair agreed. “You’re trespassing. And you’re embarrassing yourself p>
“I love her!” Liam shouted, his voice cracking. “You don’t understand! I love her p>
“You love possessing her,” Alistair corrected calmly. “There’s a difference p>
He signaled to the gate. It buzzed open. Alistair walked through, leaving Liam outside.
“Wait!” Liam grabbed the bars with his good hand. “Let me in! I need to talk to her p>
Another set of headlights appeared—an ambulance, followed by a limousine. Beatrice Kensington stepped out of the limo, leaning on a cane. She looked frail but furious. A discreet ankle monitor, hidden beneath her stockings, peeked out when she stepped onto the wet gravel, a condition of her bail.
She saw Liam shivering at the gate and let out a shriek.
“Liam! Look at you! You are the head of Kensington Global! Get in the car this instant p>
“No,” Liam wheezed. He was starting to feel dizzy. The world tilted.
“You fool!” Beatrice raised her cane and struck him on the shoulder. “She is destroying us, and you are begging like a dog p>
The front door of the manor opened. Skye walked out onto the porch, flanked by Alistair. She stayed under the overhang, dry and untouchable.
“If you want him to live, Beatrice,” Skye called over the rain, “make him sign p>
She held up a clipboard. The divorce papers. Again.
𝗢𝗳𝗳𝘪𝖼𝗶𝖺𝗹 𝗌𝗼𝘂𝘳сe 𝗼f 𝘵𝗵і𝘀 𝘯o𝗏е𝗹 оn bе𝘭𝘯o𝘷𝗲lѕ.𝘤𝗈𝗺
Beatrice looked at Liam. He was swaying, his eyes rolling back in his head. He was moments from collapse.
“Sign it!” Beatrice screamed at Liam, grabbing his hand. “Sign the damn papers so we can take you to the hospital! Do you want to die for this woman p>
“I…” Liam looked at Skye. She stood beside Alistair. They looked like a king and queen.
He looked like a beggar.
He realized then, with crushing weight, that he had lost. Truly lost.
“Fine,” Liam whispered.
A lawyer rushed forward with a pen, holding the clipboard up against the wet bars of the gate.
Liam took the pen. His hand was shaking so badly he could barely form the letters. He signed his name.
Liam Kensington.
The moment the pen lifted from the paper, his legs gave out.
He collapsed into the mud.
“Get him in the ambulance!” Beatrice shouted.