Chapter 193:
Elias’s hand tightened around his glass. The crystal groaned under the pressure. A hairline fracture appeared in the glass.
“Excuse me,” Elias said to the investors. His voice was devoid of all warmth.
He signaled to Graves, who was standing by the wall like a statue.
Graves approached immediately. “Sir?”
“Sebastian Kensington,” Elias said, his voice low and dangerous. “Find out what leverages him. Gambling debts, mistresses, hidden accounts. I want to know where he bleeds. Tonight.”
“Understood,” Graves said, disappearing into the crowd.
Elias looked at Aurora. She was composing herself, smiling at Harper, pretending it didn’t happen.
You are strong, Elias thought. But you shouldn’t have to be.
He crushed the ice in his glass, the sound sharp and violent.
Aurora turned to Harper. “Let him think what he wants. I’ll prove him wrong. I’ll prove them all wrong.”
Vivian watched from across the room, sipping her wine. She thought she had won. She thought she had turned the heir against the intruder.
Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through the music.
It wasn’t a social scream. It wasn’t laughter. It was a primal, terrified shriek.
“Help! Someone help him!”
The sound came from the garden entrance.
The music stopped. The chatter died.
Aurora turned toward the sound. The social drama evaporated. The soldier in her woke up.
Your imagination takes flight on gⱯlnσν𝓮ℓs․com
“That’s a mother,” Aurora said.
She dropped her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and ran toward the door.
The scream had come from Monica Reed. She was kneeling on the cold marble floor near the fountain, clutching the limp body of her seven-year-old son, Noah Reed. The boy was small, pale, and motionless.
A crowd formed instantly, a chaotic circle of useless, gasping socialites. They stared with morbid curiosity, clutching their pearls, but no one moved to help.
“He just collapsed!” Monica screamed, shaking the boy. “Noah! Noah, wake up!”
Aurora pushed through the crowd. She didn’t say “excuse me.” She used her elbows. She broke the circle and dropped to her knees beside the boy.
Instinct took over. The ballroom disappeared. The music disappeared. There was only the patient.
She placed two fingers on his carotid artery. No pulse. She checked his nail beds. They were turning a dusky blue.
“Cyanosis,” Aurora muttered. “Acute cardiac insufficiency. He’s not breathing.”
She ripped open the boy’s expensive dress shirt, buttons popping and skittering across the floor.
“What are you doing?” Monica shrieked, trying to push Aurora away. “You’re hurting him!”
“He’s dying, Monica!” Aurora snapped, her voice commanding. “His heart has stopped. I need space!”
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