Chapter 115
Chapter 115:
“Did you forget, Cole, that the only reason you sit in that CEO chair is because I hold thirty percent of the proxy votes on the board?” she said, her voice carrying the absolute authority of someone who had built the empire he merely inhabited. “You believed your power was absolute. I gave it to you. And I can dissolve it before you leave this room p>
She held his gaze and delivered the final blow.
“I do not care what you have to do,” Eleanor said, her voice falling to a soft, lethal command. “You will fix this. You will keep June in this marriage p>
Cole shook his head, his voice desperate. “She hates me. She filed the papers. The SEC freeze is the only thing keeping her here p>
Eleanor’s eyes did not soften by a single degree.
“That,” she said quietly, “is your problem. Because if you allow that girl to walk out of this family, I will freeze your trust fund the same day. I will convene the board and strip your voting rights. You will be left with nothing p>
Cole stared at her in undisguised horror.
She was not bluffing. She would dismantle him without hesitation to keep June. He had always known that about her, and he had chosen not to believe it until now.
𝖭е𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝗄𝗅y 𝘤𝗵aр𝘁𝘦𝗋s o𝗇
The study fell into a suffocating silence.
Cole stood there, the crumpled photograph of his wife in another man’s arms pressed in his fist. His arrogant fortress had been razed to the foundation. He had no power. He had no leverage. He was backed into a corner with a single, impossible path forward — crawl through the fire he had started, and beg the woman he had broken to pull him out of it.
The morning sun pierced through the heavy storm clouds over the Hamptons Estate.
Inside the grand study, the air was cold and still. Eleanor Compton sat rigid in her leather wheelchair behind the massive mahogany desk, her face a mask of absolute, terrifying authority. She held a gold fountain pen and pressed its nib to a thick stack of legal documents. With three sharp, deliberate strokes, she signed her name.
Mrs. Lynch stood perfectly still beside the desk, white-gloved hands folded. She reached out and took the documents the instant Eleanor lifted the pen.
“It is done,” Eleanor said, her voice like grinding stone. “That is a comprehensive blacklist order against the Beasley family.” Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “As long as there is breath in my lungs, Alycia Beasley will never see a single cent of the Compton family trust. She will never set foot on my properties again p>
“I will execute the order immediately, Madam,” Mrs. Lynch said.
She turned on her heel, crossed to the fax machine and secure terminal, and within seconds the blacklist order had been scanned and transmitted through the encrypted internal system to every core executive in the Compton Group.
Miles away, in a luxury apartment on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, Alycia sat at her vanity mirror, carefully applying a layer of expensive foundation.
Her phone buzzed on the glass table. A text from a junior analyst she had bribed inside Compton HR.
Eleanor just issued a total financial ban on your family. You are locked out of the trust.
The color drained from Alycia’s face instantly. Her blood turned to ice.