Chapter 291:
She typed back: I have a war to manage, Elias. Sebastian is cornered, and cornered rats bite.
The reply was instantaneous.
Elias: The war will wait. You need to breathe. And we need to finalize the terms of our… engagement.
Across the city, in a vault-like room at the most exclusive jeweler, Elias Thorne was not looking at a ring. He was inspecting a heavy platinum cuff, inlaid with diamonds that looked like shards of ice. It was brutal, beautiful, and unbreakable.
“The mechanism,” Elias said, his voice low and devoid of warmth. “It must be seamless. It cannot pinch, but it must not be loose. It is a bond, not a decoration.”
The jeweler, sweating profusely, nodded. “It is perfect, Mr. Thorne. A custom locking mechanism. Only the keyholder can remove it.”
Elias took the cuff, weighing it in his hand. It was a shackle for a queen who refused to be ruled. “Good.”
In a luxury spa downtown, Serena Blaire—a socialite known more for her aggressive climbing than her lineage—was scrolling through her phone. She wasn’t looking at flowers; she was looking at a leaked photo of Elias’s car entering the Van Der Hoven Estate.
“He’s there,” she whispered to her masseuse. “Elias is at the Lake House estate. And with Vivian out of the picture, the spot at his side is wide open.”
She sat up, the cucumber slices falling from her eyes. “Cancel the rest. I need to get to the lake. If I can just get past the gate, I know he’ll listen. We have history. Well, we met once at a gala three years ago. That counts.”
She grabbed her phone, her eyes gleaming with delusion. “I’m coming, Elias.”
The afternoon sun began to dip, casting long shadows over the highway leading out of the city. The digital world was buzzing, not with romance rumors, but with speculation about the Kensington power struggle.
Lₐtᴇst chαptɘrs in g𝒶lnovels.𝗰𝓞𝗺
Sebastian, frustrated by the legal team’s slow progress, decided to take matters into his own hands. He needed to rattle her. He needed to remind Aurora that even with Julian awake, he was still the predator.
He opened Twitter, his thumb hovering over the draft button. He didn’t sub-tweet about rose petals. He went for the throat.
@SebKensington: Interesting how some ‘artists’ build their careers on stolen family resources. Intellectual property theft is a serious crime. The truth comes out at the Gala. #JusticeForKensington
He smirked as the likes began to roll in. It was a warning shot. He was going to publicly strip her of the Phoenix title at the Celestial Art Gala tomorrow.
Aurora, however, was already on the move. She had changed out of her tactical gear into a simple, severe black slip dress that skimmed her body like oil. She threw a trench coat over it, grabbed her keys, and headed for the garage.
She didn’t take a sedan. She climbed into her custom armored SUV, the heavy door thudding shut with the sound of a bank vault closing. She merged onto the highway, the engine purring with restrained power.
As the city skyline retreated, the traffic thinned. Aurora checked her rearview mirror. A silver sports car was weaving through traffic, closing the distance aggressively. She recognized the aggressive driving style before she saw the plate: KENSINGTON 1.
Sebastian.
He pulled up alongside her SUV, his convertible top down. The wind whipped his hair as he screamed something, his face twisted in a sneer. He swerved toward her, feigning a collision to force her into the breakdown lane. He was trying to drive her off the road, a petty display of dominance from a man losing control.
.
.
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