Chapter 154:

“Atticus!” she screamed. “Don’t you dare!”

He ignored her. He ran to the stairwell, kicking the door open. He took the stairs two at a time, his lungs burning.

He burst onto the roof.

The guards were looking confused, holding their earpieces as the PA system blared commands in their ears.

Aurora stood in the rain, calm, unmoving. She watched Atticus emerge.

“They wouldn’t let me in,” she said simply.

Atticus walked up to the lead guard. He didn’t yell. He didn’t hit him. He just looked at him with the full weight of the Kensington name.

“Open the door,” Atticus said. “Or I will have you fired, blacklisted, and evicted from your home by morning.”

The guard looked at Atticus, then at Aurora. He swallowed. He stepped aside and swiped his keycard.

The light turned green.

Atticus held the door open. He was soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead.

“My apologies, Ms. Vance,” he said.

Aurora walked past him. She didn’t say thank you. She just stepped into the warmth of the stairwell.

“Lead the way,” she said.

The click of Aurora’s heels on the linoleum floor was the only sound in the VIP waiting area. It was a rhythmic, confident sound that announced her arrival better than any herald.

Atticus walked beside her, a protective shadow.

The entire family turned.

Vivian sneered, ready to unleash a torrent of abuse about Aurora’s age, her clothes, her background. She opened her mouth.

Aurora stepped into the pool of light beneath the main chandelier.

Edward Kensington stood up slowly from his chair. His face went slack. His eyes widened until they were perfectly round discs of disbelief.

He stumbled back, his hand grasping for the wall to steady himself.

“Edward?” his wife, Catherine, asked, reaching for him. She looked where he was looking. She gasped. Her purse slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Aurora stopped. She looked at the man staring at her. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Who… who are you?” Edward whispered. His voice was barely a breath.

Aurora frowned. She was used to skepticism. She was used to hostility. She wasn’t used to… this. This raw, naked recognition.

“I am the specialist you hired,” Aurora said. Her voice was professional, creating a wall between them. “I’m here for the patient.”

Edward shook his head. “No. Your eyes. You have… you have the Kensington eyes.”

Vivian felt a spike of terror so sharp it nearly pierced her heart. She looked at Aurora. She looked at her uncle Edward. The resemblance, now that they were standing ten feet apart, was undeniable. The shape of the brow. The peculiar, heterochromatic flecks of gold in the green irises.

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