Chapter 380
Chapter 380:
The maid who opened the door looked downcast, her uniform slightly rumpled. The staff knew the ship was sinking.
“They’re in the drawing room, Ms. Sterling,” the maid murmured, stepping aside.
Skye walked down the hallway. Her heels clicked on the parquet floor, a sharp, confident rhythm that contrasted with the house’s shuffling silence.
She entered the drawing room. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in a gloom that smelled of dust and lavender. Beatrice sat in her wheelchair by the unlit fireplace. Her posture was rigid, her hands gripping the armrests like claws.
“You have some nerve coming back here,” Beatrice spat, not turning her head.
“I’m here for my books, Beatrice,” Skye said calmly. “And the jewelry box my mother gave me. Then I’m gone p>
Beatrice laughed, a harsh, dry sound. She reached for a manila envelope on the side table and slid it across the polished wood toward Skye.
“You are a disgrace,” Beatrice hissed. “A whore parading as a businesswoman p>
Skye frowned. She picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside were printed copies of the paparazzi photos—the ones showing Alistair’s hand on her back.
“I’m a free woman, Beatrice,” Skye said, tossing the photos back onto the table. “Who I see is none of your business p>
“It is my business when you violate the morality clause of the prenuptial agreement!” Beatrice screamed. Her face turned a mottled purple. “You are damaging the Kensington brand p>
She snatched a delicate porcelain teacup from the tray. With a sudden, violent motion, she hurled it at Skye.
Skye didn’t flinch. She watched the cup fly through the air. It smashed at her feet, shards of expensive china exploding across the rug. Tea splashed onto Skye’s shoes.
“Get out!” Beatrice shrieked. “You filth p>
The door behind Skye opened. Liam stood there.
He leaned heavily on a cane, his face pale and drawn from his injuries at the docks. He looked from the shattered cup to Skye, then to his grandmother.
“What is going on?” Liam asked, his voice weak but edged with irritation.
“She is flaunting her lovers in our house!” Beatrice jabbed a shaking finger at the photos.
Liam limped to the table. He looked down at the grainy image. He saw the hand on Skye’s back. He saw the way Skye leaned into the touch.
𝖤𝘯𝗃oу 𝗿𝗲a𝖽і𝗇𝘨 𝗅𝗲ga𝗹𝗹y 𝗼ո 𝖻𝘦.со𝗺
A hot, sharp spike of jealousy pierced his chest. It twisted in his gut, making him nauseous. Who is he?
But then he looked up at Skye. She looked tired. She looked hunted. And she was standing amid broken porcelain, just as she had stood amid the wreckage of their marriage for five years.
Liam reached out and grabbed the photos. With a slow, deliberate motion, he tore them in half.
Beatrice gasped. “Liam! What are you doing p>
“Enough, Mother,” Liam said. His voice was low, stripped of the usual deference he showed her. “We are divorced. She can do what she wants p>
Skye lifted an eyebrow, surprised. The Liam she knew would have demanded answers. He would have raged.
“I don’t need your defense, Liam,” Skye said coldly.
“I’m not doing it for you,” Liam muttered, dropping the torn paper into the trash. “I’m doing it because I’m tired of the screaming p>
He turned to Beatrice. “Let her get her things. Let her go p>
Beatrice looked at her grandson as if he’d slapped her. “You are weak. Just like your father p>
Skye stepped forward. Her heel crunched down on a large shard of porcelain, grinding it into the expensive rug. The sound was satisfying.
“Section 4, Paragraph 2 of the Kensington Family Trust NDA,” Skye recited, her voice cutting through the tension. “Any public slander regarding the ex-spouse that results in stock volatility allows the ex-spouse to sue for damages up to fifty percent of the liquid assets p>
Message from Noa: Sometimes time flies by, dear ones! Have an excellent Tuesday. God loves you and Noa wishes you all the best. (๑˃̵ᴗ p>