Chapter 47
Chapter 47:
“Apex Bio?” Susan murmured, her tone drenched in practiced disdain. “Please. They are practically bankrupt. A desperate little vanity project.” She adjusted her posture to ensure the light caught the hardware on her Birkin. “Richard finalized a thirty-million-dollar exclusive contract with Compton Medical just this afternoon. That is the only kind of industry power worth acknowledging p>
The socialites nodded politely, their tight smiles concealing the mockery they exchanged behind her back. They could smell new money from across a room.
Feeling parched from her own performance, Susan rose and walked toward the oyster bar in the back corner of the ballroom.
As she turned the corner around a massive ice sculpture, she walked directly into someone.
It was June, who had finished reviewing the data and was heading toward the restroom.
Susan stumbled back. She blinked in the dim light. When she recognized June, a nasty, exaggerated sneer twisted her face. She looked her up and down, taking inventory of the plain black dress.
𝗪𝘦e𝗄𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝖾𝗅е𝗮𝘀𝖾𝘀 𝗈𝗇
“Well, well, well,” Susan announced, pitching her voice to carry over the jazz. “If it isn’t the discarded Mrs. Compton p>
June stopped. Her face remained completely still. She looked at Susan with eyes as cold as liquid nitrogen and said nothing.
Susan read the silence as submission. She stepped closer and swung her heavy Birkin bag deliberately so that the metal hardware struck June’s forearm.
“What are you doing here?” Susan continued, her voice rising enough for the surrounding tables to hear. “Looking for a free meal? Or are you already shopping for a new billionaire now that Cole threw you out p>
Nearby guests stopped talking. Heads turned.
Susan pointed a manicured finger across the room toward the VIP tables. “Look at Cole and my Alycia. They are perfect together. Do you know how much jewelry he bought her today? Do you know he gave my husband a thirty-million-dollar contract just to make her smile p>
The whispers around them grew louder. Eyes turned to June, filled with pity and morbid curiosity.
Across the room, Alycia noticed the disturbance near the oyster bar. She tugged on Cole’s sleeve and pointed, arranging her expression into something that resembled concern.
Cole turned. His eyes found the black velvet dress. His heart contracted.
Seeing June encircled by a whispering crowd, his brow hardened in anger and he pushed back his chair, striding toward the back of the room.
Susan saw him coming and mistook it for rescue. Her ego swelled to the point of breaking. She stepped directly into June’s personal space and thrust her face forward.
“You are a pathetic jinx,” Susan spat, her voice soaked in venom. “A woman who can’t even keep her own baby alive deserves to be thrown out on the street p>
The word baby hung in the air, sharp and toxic.
The surrounding crowd fell completely silent. The clinking of silverware stopped.
June’s breath hitched. The phantom pain in her abdomen flared — a brutal reminder of blood pooling on a bathroom floor, a cold hospital bed, the empty space that had been left inside her.
The cold, impenetrable stillness in her eyes did not dissolve into tears. It crystallized into something far more dangerous.
She did not cry. She did not shrink back.