Chapter 458
Chapter 458:
Dominic’s head snapped up. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Declined?” he repeated, his voice dangerously quiet. “I am Dominic Thorne. I don’t get declined p>
“They say the risk profile is too high,” Wayne whispered. “But p>
He trailed off, letting the silence hang. It was a calculated pause. Wayne knew his role, the mole, the plant, the hand of Skye Sterling inside the enemy’s fortress.
Dominic narrowed his eyes. “But what p>
“There is a rumor,” Wayne said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “A private equity firm operating out of the Caymans. They specialize in distressed assets. High risk, high reward p>
Dominic straightened. Desperation was a powerful drug. It made the impossible sound plausible.
“What is the name?” Dominic asked.
“Stone Capital,” Wayne said. “Run by a recluse named Morgan Stone. They say he has liquid reserves in the billions. But he is expensive p>
Dominic let out a harsh laugh. “Expensive is fine. I can pay expensive. I just need the cash flow to crush Alistair and that bitch Skye. Once the merger with Kensington goes through, I’ll have access to their legacy trust funds. I can pay back whatever this Stone character wants p>
A notification chimed on Wayne’s phone. He checked it.
“Thorne Corp shares just dipped another five percent, sir. The margin call is coming p>
The color drained from Dominic’s face. A margin call would wipe him out. It would expose the fact that he had been leveraging company stock to pay for his personal debts.
“Get him on the line,” Dominic ordered, pointing a trembling finger at Wayne. “Get Morgan Stone. Now p>
Meanwhile, at the Kensington Estate, the air smelled of stale whiskey and sickness.
Liam Kensington sat in his wheelchair by the fireplace in his study. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. He wasn’t looking at business reports. He was staring at his hands.
They were shaking.
Not a subtle tremor, but a violent, rhythmic spasm he couldn’t control. Sweat beaded on his forehead, cold and clammy, soaking the collar of his shirt. It had been forty-eight hours since he smashed the bottle of pills his mother called “vitamins.” Forty-eight hours since the chemical fog had begun to lift, replaced by the screaming agony of withdrawal.
His skin felt like it was two sizes too tight. Every sound, the ticking clock, the distant hum of the refrigerator, was amplified to a painful volume. Nausea rolled through his stomach in cramping waves, threatening to purge whatever little water he had managed to sip.
A𝗹 𝗳r𝖾𝖾 o𝘯 𝗯𝖾𝘭𝗇o𝗏𝘦𝘭ѕ.𝖼𝗈𝗆
He gripped the armrests of his chair, his knuckles white, fighting the urge to crawl out of his own skin. His body was screaming for the sedatives, for the compliance cocktail that had kept him docile and numb for months. But his mind, his mind was finally, terrifyingly awake.
The door opened. Beatrice Kensington swept in, holding a garment bag.
“Liam, darling, your suit for the engagement party is here,” she chirped, oblivious to, or ignoring, the sheen of sweat on his gray face.
Liam looked up. His vision blurred for a second, then sharpened. He saw her not as his mother, but as his jailer.
“Leave it,” he rasped. His voice sounded like grinding glass.
Beatrice frowned, stepping closer. “You look terrible. Are you feverish? I told Sienna to make sure you took your medicine p>
“I’m fine,” Liam lied, forcing his jaw to unclench. The effort cost him a spasm of pain that shot down his spine.
“You need to rest,” Beatrice said, reaching out to touch his forehead. “We can’t have you looking like a corpse tomorrow. The press will be there p>
Liam jerked his head away from her touch. “I said I’m fine p>