Chapter 112
Chapter 112:
“She is pathetic,” Serena agreed. “Trying to claw her way back in p>
“Elias would never touch trash,” Brenda declared. “He has standards p>
On the jet, Elias sneezed.
He looked at the photo on his screen. It was a candid shot he had taken of Aurora sleeping on his shoulder in the car. He zoomed in on her face. The way her lashes cast shadows on her cheek.
He realized she looked exactly like the Phoenix avatar. The same nose. The same fierce set of the jaw.
He closed the laptop.
He picked up his phone. He called his assistant.
“Graves,” Elias said. “The Global Tech Summit next week. I need a plus-one invitation p>
“For whom, sir?” Graves asked. “Miss Veronica p>
“No,” Elias said. “For Ms. Aurora Vance p>
“Sir… the family… Brenda will be there. Sterling will be there p>
“I know,” Elias said. “Send her the invite. And send a stylist to the Obsidian Tower. I want her to wear red p>
“Red, sir p>
“Yes,” Elias said, looking at the clouds. “The color of danger p>
Brenda called Sterling from the spa dressing room.
“Sterling, darling,” she cooed. “Tell me the truth. Did Elias hit you p>
Sterling, nursing a jaw that was swollen to the size of a grapefruit, lied through his teeth.
“No, Mother,” he mumbled. “It wasn’t Elias. It was… a thug. A random mugger. Elias just happened to be there p>
He couldn’t admit it. He couldn’t admit that his uncle—the head of the family, the man he feared most—had beaten him for Aurora.
“I knew it,” Brenda sighed in relief. “That woman is dangerous. Stay away from her p>
“I will,” Sterling lied again.
He hung up. He looked at the mirror.
“I’m going to kill him,” Sterling whispered. “I’m going to kill them both p>
The web of lies was tight. The stage was set. And Elias Thorne had just lit the fuse.
The rhythmic tapping of the Montblanc pen against the mahogany table was the only sound in the room, a metronome counting down to an execution. Elias Thorne sat at the head of the table, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on the panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. The glass reflected his face—impassive, a mask of indifference that terrified his subordinates more than any shout ever could.
“The quarterly projections for the Asian market are… optimistic,” the CFO stammered, flipping through a slide deck that Elias hadn’t looked at in ten minutes. “If we account for the currency fluctuation in Sector 4 p>
Elias stopped tapping.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. It pressed against the eardrums of the twelve board members sitting around the table. The air conditioning hummed, a low drone that sounded like a warning siren.
“Sector 4 is irrelevant if the foundational logistics aren’t solidified,” Elias said, his voice low, devoid of warmth. He didn’t turn his head. “Next p>