Chapter 163:
On the island counter sat a heavy cream-colored envelope that had been delivered by a private courier only twenty minutes after they arrived. The embossed gold lettering of the Kensington crest caught the dim light.
“They work fast,” Elias said, nodding at the envelope. “They tracked you down before the ink on the medical charts was dry.”
“Money buys speed,” Aurora replied, picking up the card. “Matriarch Kensington requests the honor of Dr. Vance’s presence. Dinner. Tonight.”
“It’s not a request,” Elias noted, taking the glass of amber liquid she offered him. “It’s a summons. The old lioness wakes up and immediately starts hunting.”
“She saw me,” Aurora said quietly. “In the hospital room. She didn’t just see a doctor, Elias. She recognized the eyes. And Edward… Edward looked at me like I was a resurrection.”
“Fixation is dangerous,” Elias warned. He set the glass down and moved toward her. “You walk in there, and you’re walking into a shark tank. Eleanor will be looking for poison. Vivian will be looking for scandal. Edward… Edward will be looking for a ghost.”
Aurora traced the gold edge of the invitation. “I can handle the Kensingtons. I have the leverage. I saved her life.”
“You have the leverage of a savior, yes. But if they suspect who you really are…” Elias stopped in front of her. He reached out, his fingers grazing the silk of her sleeve. “They will tear you apart to protect the inheritance.”
“Let them try,” Aurora said, her green eyes flashing with a cold, calculated light. “I’m not the little girl they threw away anymore. I’m the Phoenix.”
“I know,” Elias murmured. His gaze dropped to her arm, where the sleeve covered her skin. “But even the Phoenix needs a guard dog. I’m driving you.”
“I have my own security, Elias. My SUV is armored.”
“Your team is good. Mine is better,” Elias countered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And frankly, I want to see Eleanor’s face when I walk in holding your arm. It will confuse their targeting systems.”
𝗦𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵: 𝖌𝖆𝗅𝗇𝗈𝖛𝖊𝗅𝘀﹒ⅽ𝗈𝗆
Aurora let out a small, resigned sigh. “Fine. But you behave. No threatening the butler.”
“No promises.”
Meanwhile, at Kensington Manor, the atmosphere was toxic.
Eleanor paced the library, the Persian rug muffling her frantic steps. “She asked for the girl with Edward’s eyes, Vivian! Do you understand what that means?”
Vivian was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. “It means Grandma is senile. Edward has green eyes. Lots of people have green eyes. It’s a recessive gene, not a fingerprint.”
“It’s the gold flecks,” Eleanor hissed. “That specific mutation. It’s rare. And that doctor… that Vance woman… I saw her eyes in the ICU. They were identical.”
Vivian sat up, frowning. “So? Maybe she’s a distant cousin. Or maybe Edward had a fling we don’t know about.”
“Or maybe she’s the one,” Eleanor whispered, the horror of the thought making her voice tremble. “The legitimate heir. If she is… the trust fund, the estate, the controlling shares… everything goes to her. You get nothing. We get nothing.”
Vivian’s face hardened. The boredom vanished, replaced by a vicious survival instinct. “Then we make sure she isn’t. Or we make sure she wishes she wasn’t.”
“Tonight,” Eleanor planned, staring into the fire. “We need a sample. A glass. A hair. We run the DNA ourselves. If it matches, we bury the results. And then we bury her reputation.”
The Kensington dining hall was a mausoleum dedicated to excess. A twenty-foot table of polished mahogany stretched down the center of the room, set with crystal that caught the chandelier light and silver that gleamed like weaponry.
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