Chapter 225
Chapter 225:
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the bar. A man in a velvet tuxedo was laughing loudly, drawing the attention of the cameras.
It was Gabriel Ross, the actor who had been set to star in Victoria’s now-canceled film.
“Resilience?” Gabriel’s voice projected effortlessly, honed by years of stage work. He raised a glass, his eyes mocking. “Is that what we’re calling desperation these days? I thought this was a wake for the stock price p>
A ripple of uneasy laughter went through the crowd. Beatrice stiffened, her grip tightening on her cane.
“Who let that fool in?” she snapped at a security guard.
“He’s on the guest list, ma’am. He brought a significant donation,” the guard stammered.
Before Beatrice could order his removal, the murmur of the crowd died completely.
It wasn’t a gradual hush. It was instantaneous—a vacuum of sound that sucked the air out of the ballroom.
The heavy oak doors swung open.
Skye Sterling stepped in.
She wasn’t wearing gold this time. She was wearing red. Deep, dark, violent crimson. The dress was structured like armor, with sharp shoulders and a bodice that looked like it was made of shattered rubies. It flowed down into a train that looked like a pool of blood trailing behind her.
She didn’t wave. She didn’t smile. She stood at the top of the short staircase leading into the sunken ballroom and looked down at the masses as if she intended to buy the building and burn it down.
The flashbulbs erupted. It was a blinding, stroboscopic assault.
“Skye! Skye! Over here p>
“Look at the camera, Skye p>
Liam felt a physical blow to his chest.
ո𝘰 𝘪𝗇𝘵𝗿𝗎𝘴𝗂𝘷𝖾 𝗮𝗱s o𝗻 𝗯𝘦.𝘤𝗈𝗺
She looked magnificent. She looked terrifying. She looked nothing like the woman who used to beg him to come home for dinner.
He took a step toward her, drawn by a gravitational pull he couldn’t name. Regret? Lust? Ownership?
“Don’t,” Seraphina hissed, digging her nails into his arm. “Stay on script p>
Skye began to descend the stairs. She passed Liam and Seraphina as if they were invisible. She didn’t even blink. The scent of her perfume—something cold and floral, like snowdrops—drifted past him.
She walked straight to the center of the room, where a group of nervous investors were huddled. Gabriel Ross immediately stepped aside, bowing slightly to her as if she were royalty—a gesture the cameras caught perfectly.
“Gentlemen,” Skye said, her voice carrying over the silence. “I assume you’re here to discuss the liquidation of your assets before the SEC freezes them p>
A ripple of panic went through the group.
“Attention p>
The shrill voice cut through the murmur of the crowd.
Beatrice Kensington stood, leaning heavily on her cane. Beside her, clutching her arm, was Seraphina.