Chapter 258:
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” Aurora recited. Her voice was melodic, perfect. Then, she switched to flawless Italian. “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.”
Sawyer suppressed a chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand.
Madam Halloway closed the book with a soft thud. She placed it back on the table. She didn’t look at Vivian again.
“Perhaps you should rest, dear,” Madam Halloway said to Vivian, waving a hand dismissively. “You look strained. The injury must be affecting your cognitive functions.”
Vivian gasped. It was a dismissal. A total rejection.
She stood up, her cane slipping on the rug. She stumbled, flailing her arms. It was clumsy, ungraceful, and pathetic.
“Vivian!” Eleanor shrieked.
Vivian regained her balance, her face a mask of pure hatred. She glared at Aurora, then turned and limped out of the room, her physical pain exacerbated by the sting of humiliation.
Madam Halloway picked up her tea. She looked at Aurora.
“You have excellent Italian,” Madam Halloway said.
“I have excellent ears,” Aurora replied.
Sawyer caught Aurora’s eye across the room. He mouthed, I’m sorry.
Aurora just winked.
The tension in the drawing room had barely settled when the heavy oak doors creaked open again. The butler, Alfred, stood there, looking unusually flustered. His normally impassive face was pale, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
“Madam,” Alfred announced, his voice trembling slightly. “Mr. Victor King has arrived.”
The name hit the room like a thunderclap.
𝕋𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 g⍺𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘀․𝖼𝗈𝗺
Eleanor’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut into a greedy smile. She leaned toward the empty space where Vivian had been, then remembered her daughter was gone, and whispered loudly to the air.
“Victor King! The CEO of Pulse Interactive! The tech billionaire!” Eleanor hissed, her hands smoothing her skirt frantically. “He must be here to sponsor Vivian’s charity! I sent him an invite weeks ago!”
She stood up, practically vibrating with excitement. “Show him in! Immediately!”
Madam Halloway raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, taking a sip of her tea. “King? The man who turned a failing gaming company into a government contractor? Interesting.”
Sawyer stood up straighter, his gaze flickering to Aurora.
Aurora didn’t move. She was still sitting in the window seat, looking bored, tracing the rim of her teacup with a slender finger.
Victor King walked in.
He was a man who occupied space with aggressive confidence. He wore a sharp, Italian-cut navy suit that cost more than most cars. He didn’t walk; he strode. His eyes were dark, intelligent, and currently scanning the room with the precision of a predator looking for its pack leader.
Eleanor rushed forward, extending her hand, her smile stretching so wide it looked painful.
“Mr. King!” she gushed. “What an honor! I am Eleanor Kensington. We are so thrilled you could make it to discuss the foundation—”
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