Chapter 91
Chapter 91:
“Fix it!” Sterling slammed his hand on the desk. “I don’t care how. Hack them back! DO something p>
He sank into his chair, running his hand through his hair. He was losing. On every front.
Back in the Bentley, the car came to a stop outside the Obsidian Tower. The sudden lack of motion woke Aurora.
She sat up quickly, disoriented. She saw the wet patch on Elias’s shoulder. Her eyes widened in horror.
“Oh my god,” she gasped. “I… I drooled on you. I am so sorry. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning p>
Elias looked at the spot. He touched it with his finger. “It is… acceptable,” he said. His voice was husky. “Consider it a deposit p>
“A deposit?” Aurora asked, confused.
“For the ride,” Elias said, his logic failing him completely.
The driver opened the door. Aurora stepped out into the lobby light. She waved.
Elias watched her until the elevator doors closed. He touched his shoulder again.
“Home,” he told the driver. “And do not clean this suit p>
JFK International Airport was a chaotic hive of activity, but the VIP arrival gate was an island of controlled tension.
Vivian Kensington stood near the barrier, holding a bouquet of white lilies so large it looked like a funeral arrangement. Eleanor stood beside her, picking lint off Vivian’s coat.
“Stand up straight,” Eleanor hissed. “Here they come p>
The frosted glass doors slid open. A phalanx of bodyguards stepped out, clearing a path. Behind them came the Vane entourage.
Matriarch Vane sat in a motorized wheelchair, looking frail but regal. Her daughter, Aunt Sylvia, walked beside her, wearing sunglasses and a scowl that could curdle milk.
Read all updates at gⱯlnσvℯls․com
Vivian took a deep breath. She plastered a dazzling, tearful smile onto her face.
“Grandmother!” she cried out, her voice pitching up into a performative squeal. She rushed forward, ignoring the velvet rope. “Oh, you must be exhausted p>
She reached out to hug the Matriarch.
A large hand blocked her path. One of the Vane bodyguards stepped in front of her, immovable as a wall.
Vivian stumbled, her lilies rustling violently. “Excuse me p>
Aunt Sylvia stopped. She lowered her sunglasses slowly. Her eyes were cold, assessing Vivian like a piece of cheap jewelry.
“Ms. Kensington, I presume?” Sylvia said. Her voice was dry and sharp.
“Yes! I’m Vivian. Your niece… well, cousin…” Vivian stammered, trying to peer around the bodyguard.
“My mother is not your grandmother,” Sylvia said. “And we do not require a welcome committee. Please observe personal boundaries p>
The rejection was public. Travelers paused to watch. Vivian’s face flushed a deep, ugly red.
“I… I was just trying to be family,” Vivian said, her voice trembling with real anger now.
Behind the bodyguards, Matriarch Kensington appeared. She had arrived separately, insisting on meeting her old friend at the gate. She wheeled herself forward.