Chapter 228
Chapter 228:
“She killed a boy, El,” Edward said softly.
“It was an accident!”
“It was arrogance,” Edward said. He looked up, his eyes hollow. “And we let it happen. We raised her to think she was untouchable. Well… she touched the fire.”
Eleanor stared at him, betrayed. “You’re taking her side?” She pointed at Aurora. “The stray?”
“Her name is Aurora,” Edward said. “And she saved Vivian’s life. If she hadn’t clamped that artery, we’d be planning a funeral today.”
Aurora turned from the window. “I don’t need your defense, Edward. I just need you to sign the release forms for my trust. I want my portion separated. Completely.”
“You’re leaving?” Eleanor sneered. “Running back to the gutter?”
“I’m going back to my penthouse,” Aurora said coldly. “Which I bought with my own money. Something you wouldn’t understand.”
She walked over to the desk. “Grandmother,” she said, using the title formally, without warmth. “I am taking Grandpa Arthur with me. He needs peace, not this… circus.”
The Matriarch nodded. “He is welcome here, Aurora. But I understand.”
Eleanor stepped in front of her. Desperation rolled off her in waves. “You have connections,” she hissed. “That doctor… the one you used for Elias. The Chinese medicine. Use it on Vivian. Fix her.”
Aurora looked at her. “My needles are for healing, Eleanor. Not for fixing the consequences of malice.”
“I order you!” Eleanor raised her hand to slap her.
It was slow. Predictable.
Aurora caught her wrist in mid-air. Her grip was firm, unyielding.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
She didn’t push her. She didn’t twist her arm. She just held it there, letting Eleanor feel the difference in their strength. The difference between earned power and inherited delusion.
Aurora released her. Eleanor stumbled back, rubbing her wrist, looking terrified.
“Arthur,” the Matriarch said to Edward. “Sign the papers.”
Edward put down his glass. He picked up the pen. He signed Vivian’s financial death warrant without a tremor.
Transfer failed, Aurora imagined Vivian’s phone notification saying in that sterile hospital room.
She walked out of the library. The air in the hallway was cooler, cleaner. She signaled to Jones, who was waiting by the door.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Grandpa is waiting.”
“I miss the noise,” Grandpa Arthur said, his voice barely audible over the thumping rhythm of the rotors. They were strapped into the leather seats of a Phoenix Logistics executive helicopter, banking sharply over the Hudson River. “It’s too quiet out there in the country. Too many trees. Not enough honking.”
Aurora smiled, adjusting the headset over his ears. “We’ll be landing at the West 30th Street Heliport in ten minutes, Gramps. You’ll be breathing city smog before you know it.”
The helicopter cut through the grey sky, a sleek black insect against the sprawling metropolis. She looked down at the grid of Manhattan. From up here, the Kensington estate felt like a distant, bad dream. Flying via helicopter was the only way to move Arthur comfortably without the grueling drive, and it was a perk of owning the logistics company that transported half the city’s high-value cargo.