Chapter 367
Chapter 367:
Then she thought about the gun range.
@TheOracleSkye: The past is dead, Liam. And so is the girl in that photo. Don’t mistake a contract for a second chance.
She hit send.
Within seconds, the internet exploded.
@User1: Omg the SHADE.
@User2: Queen Skye chose violence today.
@User3: Liam is cooked.
Felix called a minute later. “Boss, that tweet? Genius. Engagement is up 400%. The producers are popping champagne. They want to move the start date up. Tomorrow p>
“Tomorrow?” Skye asked. “I’m not ready p>
“You’re ready,” Felix said. “Also… we have a problem. A specific kind of problem p>
“What p>
“There’s a bot farm attacking your account. Negative comments. Calling you a gold digger. Tracing the IP… it’s coming from a server in Russia. But the payment trail leads back to an offshore account linked to Dominic Thorne p>
“Of course,” Skye sighed. “Dominic is petty p>
“Ignore it,” Felix advised. “The real fans are drowning them out p>
She hung up.
Alistair was watching her, his expression unreadable.
His own phone rang. A distinct, old-fashioned ringtone.
He froze.
He looked at the screen, and his posture shifted. He stood straighter, his face hardening into a mask of deference Skye had rarely seen.
“Grandfather,” he answered.
Silas Thorne. The patriarch. The man even Dominic feared.
Skye watched Alistair listen. He didn’t say much. Just “Yes, sir,” and “I understand p>
He hung up and looked at her.
𝖩𝗼𝗂n 𝗍hе со𝗺𝗺𝘂𝘯𝘪tу 𝘢𝘁 𝘣𝖾.𝖼𝗈m
“Get dressed. Something conservative. We’re going to the Ancestral Estate p>
“Now?” Skye asked. “Why p>
“Because Silas saw the news,” Alistair said grimly. “And he wants to meet the woman who is dragging the Thorne name into a reality TV circus p>
“He’s angry p>
“Silas doesn’t get angry,” Alistair said, walking toward the bedroom. “He gets disappointed. And that is infinitely worse p>
An hour later, they were driving deep into the mountains north of the city. The landscape here was ancient—towering redwoods, mist clinging to the road, and a silence that felt heavy.
The Thorne Ancestral Estate made Kensington Manor look like a dollhouse.
It was a gothic castle built of dark stone, perched on a cliff overlooking a ravine. It looked like the setting of a vampire novel.
They pulled up to the iron gates.
They opened automatically.
Servants lined the steps. They weren’t wearing the modern uniforms of the city staff. They wore traditional black and white, standing like statues.
A butler opened Alistair’s door.
He ignored Skye’s.
Alistair didn’t move. He sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the butler until the man flinched.