Chapter 4

AURORA BRUCE POV:

My phone, miraculously still clutched in my hand, vibrated with an insistent urgency. It was ringing. Kassandra, still basking in her triumph, gestured to one of her bodyguards. "Take that from her. Don't let her call anyone."

The bodyguard moved to snatch it, but I gripped it tighter. My eyes, now devoid of tears, were fixed on Kassandra. "You'll want to hear this, Kassandra," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Trust me."

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of unease replacing her swagger. "Oh, really? And who could possibly be calling you that would interest me?"

"Just answer it," I commanded, my tone brooking no argument. My gaze dared her to refuse.

She hesitated for a split second, then, with a dismissive shrug, she snatched the phone from my hand. "Fine. Let's see what pathetic attempt you're making now." She glanced at the caller ID, then scoffed. "Oh, him? Your grandfather? How quaint. You think your senile old relative can save you?"

She answered, putting it on speaker, a smirk playing on her lips. "Hello, Mr. Tyler," she purred, her voice oozing contempt. "To what do we owe the... displeasure?"

Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence on the other end of the line. Then, a distinct, shattering sound, like glass breaking, followed by a muffled roar. Kassandra flinched, her smirk vanishing.

A voice, deep and resonant, filled the lobby, vibrating through the speaker. It wasn't senile. It was a voice accustomed to commanding armies, to toppling empires. It was the voice of Harrison Tyler, my grandfather.

"Who... is this?" His voice was low, dangerous.

Kassandra, clearly rattled but trying to regain her composure, scoffed. "This is Kassandra Dixon, Mr. Tyler. Josh Palmer's fiancée. You just called my number, or rather, Aurora's number, since she seems to think she still has some claim on him." She glanced at me, a defiant challenge in her eyes. "I'm afraid your granddaughter has a rather... romanticized view of her importance in his life. But in a few months, I'll be Mrs. Palmer, First Lady of the Senate. Perhaps you'd like to reconsider who you're calling."

Another beat of silence. Then, my grandfather's voice, colder than the Arctic wind, cut through the air. "Where is Aurora?"

Kassandra shrugged, feigning indifference. "Oh, she's right here. Having a bit of a meltdown, to be honest. It's rather pathetic. She seems to think she can disrupt our evening, but really, she's just making a fool of herself."

"What did you do to her?" My grandfather' s voice was a low growl, laced with such menace that even Kassandra seemed to shrink slightly.

She chuckled, a forced, brittle sound. "Nothing much. Just reminded her of her place. She tried to assert some kind of... 'Tyler' authority, which was quite amusing, considering she's just a bitter ex-girlfriend. Maybe I scratched her cheek a little, or perhaps her bodyguards got a bit rough. She probably deserved it, clinging to a man who clearly doesn't want her."

Another crash from the other end of the line, louder this time, like furniture being splintered. Then, a ragged, furious breath.

"Give the phone to Aurora," Harrison commanded, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Kassandra' s eyes widened slightly. She looked at the phone, then at me. Her expression was still defiant, but a tremor of fear was starting to show. "Why? So she can complain to her dear old grandpa? She's clearly delusional." But she extended the phone towards me, grudgingly. "Here, your fan club is calling."

I took the phone. It was warm from her grip, tainted by her touch. My grandfather's voice, though still seething, softened almost imperceptibly as he heard my breath.

"Aurora. Are you alright? What did she do to you?"

My gaze swept over the scattered, ruined pages of my mother's journal, then to the defiant, yet now slightly pale, face of Kassandra. "She... destroyed Mom's journal, Grandpa," I whispered, the words tearing from my throat. "She ripped it to shreds. Stomped on it."

A guttural roar erupted from the phone, a sound so primal, so full of unadulterated fury, that Kassandra actually stumbled back, her eyes wide with genuine terror. The entire lobby, which had been buzzing with hushed whispers, fell completely silent.

"That... bitch," my grandfather rasped, his voice raw with a pain that mirrored my own. "That... unforgivable bitch."

"Grandpa," I said, my voice gaining strength, hardening with a new resolve. "The seven-year pact is over. Josh Palmer has chosen unwisely. He has discarded his partner, his strategist, and his love. He has chosen a public spectacle over loyalty. And Kassandra Dixon... she has desecrated my mother's memory."

Another deafening crash sounded from the phone, then a rapid series of commands, barked in a language I didn't fully understand, but the tone was unmistakable: absolute, unyielding retribution.

"Aurora," my grandfather said, his voice now terrifyingly calm, a predator sharpening its claws. "Is there anything you want from him? Anything you want to keep?"

I looked at Kassandra, who was now visibly trembling, her triumphant façade completely shattered. I looked at the bewildered, silent bodyguards. And then, at the shattered remnants of my past.

"No, Grandpa," I said, my voice a cold, steady blade. "Nothing. Burn it all down."

My grandfather let out a long, shuddering sigh, a sound that was both relief and terrifying acceptance. "Consider it done, my dear. And as for the woman who laid hands on you, and dared to touch your mother' s memory... she will learn what it means to cross a Tyler. I' m on my way. And Aurora... stay exactly where you are. Tell them... tell them the King is coming for his Queen."

He hung up, the line going dead. Kassandra stared at the phone in my hand as if it were a venomous snake. Her face was ashen.

"The King is coming for his Queen," I repeated, my gaze chillingly direct. "And he's not alone."