Chapter 283:

“Then ask your fathers,” Elias said, checking his watch. “Or I can have my auditors look into their companies tomorrow morning. I’m sure their tax returns are interesting.”

The color drained from their faces. They scrambled for their phones, terrified.

Aurora looked up at Elias. “I didn’t need your help with them.”

“I know,” Elias murmured, leaning down so only she could hear. “Consider it a birthday present. I like watching them squirm.”

Sir Alistair approached them. He shook Elias’s hand. “Good taste, Thorne,” Alistair said, nodding at Aurora. “She’s sharper than you.”

“I am aware,” Elias said, a hint of pride in his voice.

Suddenly, the head butler of the Kensington estate appeared at Eleanor’s side. He looked grave.

“Mrs. Kensington,” the butler said. “The Matriarch wishes to see you in the library. Immediately.”

Eleanor looked like a dead woman walking. She cast one last, hateful glance at Aurora, then followed the butler.

Aurora handed the diamond box to the stunned foundation representative.

“Make sure it’s cataloged,” she said.

She felt a hand on the small of her back. Warm. Solid.

“Let’s get out of here,” Elias said. “I promised you a burger.”

“You promised me victory,” Aurora said.

“You have both,” Elias replied.

He offered his arm. Aurora took it.

They walked out of the ballroom together. The cameras flashed, but this time, the light didn’t feel like an attack. It felt like a coronation.

Lаtєst chαptєrs in gɐlnovєls.ϲοm

The library of Kensington Manor was a room designed to intimidate. The ceilings were twenty feet high, lost in shadow. The walls were lined with books that hadn’t been opened in a century.

Matriarch Margaret Kensington sat in a high-backed leather chair behind a massive oak desk. She looked like a judge presiding over a sentencing.

A large screen on the wall showed a stock ticker.

KENSINGTON ENTERPRISES: -8%

Eleanor stood before the desk. She was trembling.

“You have cost this family dignity,” Margaret said. Her voice was quiet, brittle like dry leaves, but it carried the weight of absolute authority. “And more importantly, you have cost us money.”

“It was Vivian!” Eleanor cried, tears streaming down her face. “She’s young! She was confused! I tried to stop her!”

Margaret picked up a file folder and threw it across the desk. It slid off the edge and scattered photos across the floor. Photos of Eleanor meeting with the PR firm. Photos of Eleanor paying the bot farm.

“You orchestrated it,” Margaret said. “You built the stage for her execution.”

The butler stepped forward from the shadows. He handed Eleanor a document.

It was a single sheet of heavy, cream paper.

NOTICE OF EVICTION.

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