Chapter 748
Chapter 748:
“The access codes have been changed, Beatrice,” Skye said. Her voice was low and calm, the terrifying stillness of the eye of a storm. “Your pass doesn’t work. Neither does Arthur’s. Though considering Arthur is currently sitting in a federal holding cell awaiting arraignment, I doubt he’ll be needing his p>
Beatrice spun around. Her face was a map of wrinkles, deepened by rage and, perhaps, a flicker of genuine fear.
“You… you vulture. My grandson is dead, and you are here rearranging the furniture p>
“I am here ensuring there is a company left for him to come back to,” Skye replied, her expression unreadable. “Unlike you, who tried to lock him away to save your stock portfolio p>
A murmur went through the onlookers. Phones were out. Livestreams were running.
The Widow vs. The Matriarch.
“He was sick!” Beatrice spat, shaking her cane at Skye. “He was unstable! I was protecting him p>
“You were protecting your dividends,” Skye corrected. She took a step closer, invading the older woman’s personal space. “Go home, Beatrice. Feed your cats. Count your jewelry. But do not come back here. The era of the Kensington matriarchy is over p>
Beatrice’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish. She raised her cane, a reflex of violence born of impotence.
The security guards tensed.
Vroom.
The low, guttural growl of a twelve-cylinder engine vibrated through the glass doors, silencing the lobby. A sleek black town car with tinted windows pulled up to the curb, disregarding the “No Parking” zone with the arrogance only true predators possessed.
The driver’s door opened. A man in a sharp suit—Celeste’s lead defense attorney—stepped out and opened the rear door.
𝗥𝘦s𝗽е𝗰𝗍 𝗍𝘩е 𝗼𝗋𝗶𝗴і𝘯а𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍eոt 𝗳𝗋𝗼𝗺 𝖻𝗲lոo𝗏𝖾𝗅𝘀.c𝘰m
Celeste Cain emerged. She wore a trench coat that looked like it was made of liquid obsidian, cinched tight at the waist. She removed her sunglasses slowly, her eyes sweeping the lobby with bored amusement. There were no shackles, no police escorts, and certainly no monitoring devices. She moved with the terrifying freedom of someone who owned the law.
She walked through the revolving doors, the air seeming to part around her. She didn’t look at the security guards. She didn’t look at the employees. And she certainly didn’t look at Beatrice.
She walked straight to Skye.
“Cute show,” Celeste drawled, her voice a smoky purr. “Very… Shakespeare in the Park p>
Beatrice bristled, sensing a rival who outclassed her in every way. “Who are you? You should be in prison! I saw the news! You were arrested for terrorism p>
Celeste didn’t even turn her head. She simply raised a gloved hand and flicked her fingers, as if brushing away a fly.
“Terrorism requires intent, Beatrice. My lawyers successfully argued that my employees were acting rogue. A few shredded documents, a generous donation to the Police Benevolent Fund, and a lack of concrete evidence linking me directly to the scene… well, justice is blind, but she isn’t deaf to the sound of money p>