Chapter 72
Chapter 72:
Vivian let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. “A tech empire? Really, Professor? We have the best neurologists in the world. We don’t need some startup CEO who dabbles in witchcraft p>
Yinn turned her head slowly. Her gaze was sharp enough to cut glass.
“This ‘witchcraft’ saved my life, Vivian. And she could save your aunt’s p>
The Matriarch sat up, ignoring the pain. Her eyes locked onto Yinn.
“Bring her here. Pay her whatever she wants p>
“She cannot be bought,” Yinn said. “She told me she only answers when fate requires it. But there is a connection… she mentioned the mountains. She knows our history p>
Vivian felt a cold drop of sweat slide down her spine. A businesswoman in NY? A tech company? It sounded too specific. Too close to the rumors she had heard about Sterling Thorne’s ex-wife causing trouble.
“If she won’t come to us,” Victoria said, her voice gaining a sudden, fierce strength. “Then we go to her p>
“What?” Vivian gasped. “Auntie, you can’t travel! The gala is in two days p>
“Prepare the jet,” Victoria ordered Alfred. “We are going to New York. If this girl can stop the pain, I will fly to the moon to see her p>
Vivian exchanged a panicked glance with her reflection in the mirror. If the Matriarch went to New York, she would be in Sterling Thorne’s territory. She might hear things. She might see things.
Vivian excused herself, claiming she needed to pack. She ran to her room and locked the door. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out a burner phone.
She dialed a number.
“It’s me,” Vivian whispered. “I need a full background check on Aurora Vance. Now. And find out if she knows Professor Yinn p>
𝖁𝖎𝖊𝖜 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖖𝖚𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉: g⍺𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧽ⅽ𝗈𝗺
Downstairs, Yinn walked out of the room. She pulled out her phone and sent a text to a number she had saved from the contract.
A patient needs you. High profile. Intense pain.
The reply came back in seconds.
I don’t do house calls unless it’s fate. Or unless they come to me.
Yinn looked at the message and smiled. “She is coming to you,” she whispered.
The sidewalk outside the Pierre Hotel was a war zone of flashbulbs. Two separate red carpets had been rolled out, separated by velvet ropes, creating a physical divide between the two social events of the season.
On the left: The Sterling Thorne Engagement Party.
On the right: The Yates Debutante Ball.
Sterling stood at the entrance of his carpet. He checked his watch for the fiftieth time. He was sweating, despite the cool evening air.
Isabella stood beside him, dressed in a white gown that looked suspiciously bridal. She was smiling at the cameras, but her eyes were darting around nervously.
“Why are there so many press over there?” Isabella whispered, gesturing to the Yates side.
“Because the Yates family is old news,” Sterling lied. “They are just curious p>
A hush fell over the crowd. The kind of silence that precedes a natural disaster.