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Chapter 69
Chapter 69:
“Read it!” Beatrice screamed.
Liam caught a few photos. He looked at them.
They were photos of Seraphina. But not at the library. She was at a club—a low-end gambling den in the neighboring city. She sat on the lap of a man old enough to be her father. She held a stack of chips.
Another document: a debt-collection notice for $200,000 in gambling debts, under the name Maria Miller—Seraphina’s mother.
“She isn’t a poor student,” Beatrice spat. “She comes from a family of grifters. Her mother runs an illegal poker ring. That girl has been funneling your scholarship money to pay off loan sharks p>
Liam stared at the photos. He looked at Seraphina.
“Is this true?” Liam asked. His voice was barely a whisper.
Seraphina started hyperventilating. “No! It’s fake! Skye made it up! She’s trying to frame me p>
“These are from my private investigator,” Beatrice said coldly. “Skye has nothing to do with it. Though she was smart enough to leave before the stench of this trash suffocated her p>
Beatrice pointed her cane at the door. “Get her out. Now. Or I cut you out of the will, Liam. Every cent p>
Liam looked at Seraphina. She was sobbing, but her eyes darted around, calculating.
“I can’t move her yet,” Liam said weakly. “Her leg p>
“Fine,” Beatrice said. “Keep her. But know this: you have lost your wife. And soon, you will lose your fortune p>
Beatrice turned and marched out.
Liam stood there, the photos in his hand. He looked at Seraphina. The illusion of the innocent, sweet girl was cracking, revealing the rot underneath.
He needed a drink.
𝖱𝗲𝗮𝘥 𝘄i𝗍hou𝗍 𝗶𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝘂𝗽𝗍𝗂o𝗻𝗌 𝗈n 𝖻𝗲𝗅𝘯𝘰vе𝗹𝘀.𝖼𝗼𝗺
Skye was not crying. She was celebrating.
She was at The Vault, the most exclusive nightclub in Sea City. She sat in the VIP booth, wearing a silver sequin minidress that shimmered like liquid mercury. Harper sat beside her, pouring tequila.
“To freedom!” Harper shouted, clinking glasses.
“To the trash taking itself out,” Skye corrected, downing the shot. The burn was electric.
There were no male models, no childish displays. Just Skye, Harper, and Alistair Thorne, who sat in the corner of the booth like a king watching his court.
Skye’s phone rang. It was Liam. Again.
She looked at the screen. She didn’t answer. She simply placed the phone on the table, face up.
“Persistent,” Alistair noted, eyeing the vibrating device.
“Desperate,” Skye corrected.
Liam called again. And again.
Finally, Alistair reached out. His large hand covered the phone.
“Allow me,” Alistair said.
