Chapter 112
Chapter 112:
Eleanor Compton sat in her high-backed leather wheelchair near the roaring fireplace, sipping her morning tea from a bone-china cup. She did not look up when they entered.
The oppressive, silent wealth of the room made the Beasleys shrink slightly, but their greed pushed them forward. Susan arranged her face into an expression of practiced, tragic concern.
“Mrs. Compton,” Susan said, her voice trembling with manufactured sorrow, “we are so sorry to bring this to you. But we could not stand by and allow June to destroy your family’s honor any longer p>
Richard stepped forward and shoved the brown envelope toward Mrs. Lynch, who put on a pair of white cotton gloves before accepting it. She carried it to Eleanor.
Eleanor set her teacup down and drew the high-resolution photograph from the envelope. Her sharp, aged eyes studied the image of June and Easton in the garage.
Richard rubbed his hands together, barely concealing his eagerness. “She is having an affair with a younger man. She is probably feeding him Compton corporate secrets. You have to trigger the morality clause and throw her out onto the street p>
Susan nodded vigorously. “Alycia is still waiting for Cole. She is pure. She would never do this to your family p>
The living room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Only the crackle of the fire remained.
Richard and Susan held their breath, waiting for the matriarch to erupt and order June’s destruction.
𝖩𝗈in 𝘁𝘩𝗈u𝗌𝖺ո𝗱ѕ 𝗈𝘧 𝘧а𝗻𝗌 oո.со𝗺
Eleanor slowly placed the photograph face-up on the mahogany table. She did not look angry. She looked at Richard and Susan the way one might look at cockroaches discovered on a clean rug.
“You bring me this pathetic, amateur optical illusion,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping to a freezing, lethal whisper, “and you expect to insult my intelligence p>
Richard’s victorious smile slid from his face. “W — what? It is a photograph. It is proof p>
Eleanor picked up her heavy wooden cane and brought the metal tip down directly onto the photo.
“Look at the veins in his forearm,” she said, pointing with the cane. “The tension in his grip. He is bearing her entire weight. He is catching her from a sudden fall. Do you think me so senile that I cannot distinguish a desperate catch from a romantic embrace p>
Susan turned pale and took a step back.
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Furthermore,” she continued, her voice thick with contempt, “I recognize that custom-built armored Range Rover. There are only three like it in this city, and one belongs to Easton Hahn — the most vicious corporate litigator on the East Coast.” She let out a short, mocking laugh. “Your idiot investigator did not simply take a false photograph. He committed corporate espionage against a man who will happily bankrupt your entire bloodline in court p>
“But she was with him at night!” Susan shrieked, clinging desperately to her story.
Eleanor’s hand shot out. She seized her teacup and hurled it across the room.
The bone china shattered against the stone fireplace with a sharp, explosive crack.
Susan screamed and covered her head.