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Chapter 317

Chapter 317:

Skye sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside the bed. Gabriel Ross lay still, tubes running in and out of his body. His face was pale; bruises from the car accident—orchestrated by Dominic’s men—were still fading into sickly yellow and purple across his skin. He had not woken up since the crash.

“I did it, Gabriel,” Skye whispered, taking his limp hand in hers. “I exposed them. Seraphina is in jail. Liam is ruining himself. But it doesn’t feel like winning when you’re not here to see it p>

She gently brushed a lock of sandy hair from his forehead. Gabriel had been her shield when she was weak. He had taken the hit meant for her.

The door opened, and Felix Carter stepped in. He was a large man—silent and imposing—Alistair’s most trusted lieutenant.

“Ms. Sterling,” Felix said softly. “Alistair is asking for you. We have a situation with Vance Media p>

Skye didn’t look away from Gabriel. “What situation p>

“The transfer of debt is complete,” Felix said. “You technically own the building now. But Julian Vance is refusing to vacate. He’s locked himself in his office and is shredding documents p>

Skye’s eyes hardened. She squeezed Gabriel’s hand one last time, drawing strength from his silence.

“Let him shred,” Skye said, standing and smoothing her skirt. “Paper doesn’t matter when I own the servers. Let’s go, Felix. It’s time to collect my property p>

“And Mr. Kensington?” Felix asked. “He’s been calling the main line at Oracle every five minutes p>

“Let it ring,” Skye said, walking to the door. “He’s Beatrice’s problem now p>

Dominic Thorne stood in the center of the cramped visitation cell, his immaculate suit replaced by the drab orange of the remand center. The air was stale and recycled, thick with the scent of despair. He wasn’t pacing a lawyer’s office; he was pacing a cage.

On the other side of the thick glass partition sat his counsel, a man named Evans, who looked terrified.

“The bail hearing was a disaster,” Evans stammered into the intercom phone. “The judge cited the recording from the gala. Kidnapping, extortion… they’re holding you without bond, Mr. Thorne p>

Dominic slammed his fist against the glass. The sound was dull, absorbed by the bulletproof material. “I don’t pay you to tell me bad news, Evans. I pay you to fix it p>

N𝖺𝘷𝗂𝘨а𝗍𝗲 𝗲а𝗌𝗂𝘭у 𝗼𝘯 b𝗲.𝖼𝘰𝗺

“We’re trying, sir, but p>

“Shut up and listen,” Dominic hissed, leaning closer, his breath fogging the glass. “Liam has been neutralized. He’s useless to me now. But Skye… she’s moving too fast. She’s consolidating power while I sit in here p>

“What do you want us to do p>

“Get me the file on the Sinclair merger,” Dominic ordered, his eyes cold and predatory. “The one I kept on my private encrypted drive p>

“Sir?” Evans blinked. “The Sinclair deal was Liam’s lifeline. Why do we care p>

“Because,” Dominic said, smiling like a shark scenting blood even from behind bars, “the Sinclair Group is conservative. Old money. They hate scandal. If I can prove that Oracle Holdings—and by extension, Skye—is funding her acquisition with ‘dirty’ money from the Thorne family… they might block her from bidding on the Kensington assets p>

“But… the money is from the Thorne family,” Evans pointed out nervously. “From your brother, Alistair p>

“Exactly,” Dominic smirked. “And Alistair’s money has always been… colorful. Leak the rumors. Link Skye to the underground casinos. Paint her not as a businesswoman, but as a mobster’s girlfriend. Use my contacts. Do it today p>

Meanwhile, at the Obsidian private club, the air was thick with cigar smoke and tension.