Chapter 175
Chapter 175:
“Don’t worry,” Vivian sneered. “If you get confused by the forks, just watch me. I’ll guide you p>
Aurora turned her head slightly. “I’ll manage p>
She walked out of the room, her phone buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out in the hallway. It was a text from Jones, her head of security.
Subject: Gate Disturbance. Identity: Dominic Russo. Status: Demanding entry with press.
Aurora stared at the screen. Her eyes narrowed. Russo. The slumlord who had evicted them in the dead of winter five years ago because Arthur refused to pay an illegal rent hike. He was a vulture.
She deleted the message and slid the phone back into her pocket.
She didn’t run to hide. She didn’t panic. She adjusted her cuffs and walked toward the front of the house.
Let them come.
The rusted sedan rattled down the driveway, its muffler dragging slightly on the asphalt, sending up sparks. It wasn’t alone. Behind it was a van marked with the logo of a notorious tabloid outlet.
Inside the sedan, Dominic Russo adjusted his greasy tie in the rearview mirror. He was a thick-set man with a face like a bulldog and eyes that gleamed with greed.
“You got the papers?” he barked at the passenger, a nervous young lawyer he’d hired on contingency.
“I have the fabricated lease agreements and the damage reports,” the lawyer said, sweating. “But Mr. Russo, are you sure? She’s a Kensington now. She has resources p>
“She’s a rat from the Bronx,” Russo spat. “And rats always pay to keep their secrets hidden. She owes me back rent. Interest. Emotional damages. We’re gonna squeeze her dry p>
The car turned off the main road and approached the massive, wrought-iron gates of the Kensington Estate. Stone lions guarded the entrance. Cameras swiveled silently on the pillars. The sedan screeched to a halt.
𝖁𝖎𝖊𝖜 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖈𝖊: ⳑ𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘀․𝗰𝗼𝗺
Jones, Aurora’s head of security, stepped out of the guard booth. He looked like a mountain carved from granite. He crossed his arms, his expression unimpressed.
“Private property,” Jones said, his voice a low rumble. “Turn around p>
Russo rolled down the window. “I’m here to see Aurora Vance! Or Kensington! Whatever she calls herself! She owes me fifty grand p>
Behind him, the tabloid crew jumped out, cameras flashing.
“Scandal at Kensington Manor!” a reporter shouted. “Is the new heiress a fraud p>
Inside the estate, in the main security room, the feed played on a high-definition monitor.
Grandpa Vance watched the screen from his wheelchair, having been moved from the medical wing for fresh air. His face twisted in disgust. “Russo. That filth. I should have broken his nose years ago p>
Aurora stood beside him. She was peeling an apple with a small paring knife. The skin came off in one long, unbroken red ribbon. Her hands were perfectly steady.
“Do you want me to have them removed?” Jones’s voice crackled over the intercom. “The police can be here in five minutes p>
Aurora sliced a piece of apple and ate it. “No p>
“No?” Grandpa Vance looked up, surprised.