Chapter 972
She walked to the head of the table and stood over him, close enough to smell his expensive cologne — lavender and something underneath it, something rotten.
“Get out of my chair,” she whispered.
Arthur looked at the board members. He looked at the documents. He looked at Liam and Alistair standing in the doorway like executioners awaiting a signal.
He stood. His movements were jerky, uncoordinated. He gathered his briefcase, his dignity shredding with every second of silence.
“This isn’t over, Skye,” he hissed as he brushed past her. “You think winning the battle means you won the war? You have no idea what you’ve awakened. The family is growing.”
“I know exactly what I’m dealing with,” Skye said, sitting down. “A parasite.”
Arthur stormed out. The heavy doors swung shut behind him.
Skye looked at the remaining board members. The Vice President, Henderson, who had been urging the asset sale, was sweating through his collar.
“Ms. Sterling,” Henderson stammered. “It was a misunderstanding. Arthur presented evidence—”
“I don’t listen to misunderstandings,” Skye said, picking up the fountain pen Arthur had left behind and turning it slowly in her fingers. “Resign by the end of the day, Henderson, or I hand that file to the district attorney. I won’t have traitors at my table.”
𝘙e𝘢𝘥 w𝘪𝗍𝗁o𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝖾𝘳𝗿𝘶p𝘁𝗶оns 𝗈ո 𝘨𝘢l𝗻о𝘃еl𝘴.𝖼𝗈𝗺
Henderson swallowed. He nodded, stood, and fled. Two others followed.
Skye watched them go. The adrenaline was fading now, leaving a hollow space in her chest. The room began to tilt. The edges of her vision blurred.
She gripped the table, knuckles turning white.
“Skye?” Liam’s voice was sharp.
She waved a hand, but her arm felt like lead. “I’m fine. Just need a minute.”
A mechanical whirring came from the doorway. Julian Vance rolled into the room in his wheelchair — pale, his skin almost translucent, but his eyes were sharp. He had been coordinating the legal defense from the ground while they were in the air.
“Impressive counter-attack,” Julian said, his voice raspy. “But you look like you’re about to collapse.”
“I can’t rest,” Skye said, forcing her eyes to focus. “Arthur wouldn’t be this bold unless he had backup. He’s a coward. He needs a shield. And that comment about the family growing—”
“He has more than a shield,” Julian said. He wheeled himself closer and placed a folded newspaper on the table. “He found a sword.”
Skye looked down. The headline was bold, black ink that seemed to scream at her.
STERLING HEIR RETURNS: THE LOST DAUGHTER FOUND.
Below the headline was a grainy photo. A silhouette. A young woman.
A chill moved through Skye that had nothing to do with her wet clothes. It began in her stomach and radiated outward, freezing her blood.
“That’s impossible,” Skye whispered. “The Sterling child died. I am the only one left.”
She closed her eyes — and suddenly she wasn’t in the boardroom. She was small. The smell of smoke. The sound of a music box playing a distorted tune. A doll with a scorched face.
A sharp pain lanced through her skull, blinding and white-hot. Skye gasped, clutching her head.
.