Chapter 175
Chapter 175:
She raised both hands and pressed her palms flat against his chest, pushing him back. “Don’t touch me,” June said. Her voice was a quiet, absolute command. “Abbie will take me p>
Cole’s arms froze in midair.
The public refusal hit him like a blow to the stomach. Every member of Manhattan’s elite circle was watching his wife turn away his help. The humiliation burned through him.
Crawford stepped forward, his tone entirely final. “My car is outside. I am taking her to the Manhattan private hospital p>
Cole turned on him, closing the distance in one step. His chest pressed against Crawford’s. Two billionaires. Two men who yielded to nothing. Standing toe-to-toe in the center of the gala, the air between them dense with barely contained fury.
Alycia pushed through the silent crowd and grabbed Cole’s arm, arranging her expression into something soft and urgent. “Cole, please don’t do this,” she whispered loudly. “Everyone is looking at us p>
Cole removed her hand from his arm without a glance. “Not now, Alycia.” The words came out low and controlled — somehow more frightening than a shout.
𝘗о𝗽𝗎𝗅a𝘳 𝗌𝘵or𝗶е𝗌 оո ѕ.𝖼𝘰𝗺
Alycia recoiled as though she’d been struck. Her face went pale, then flooded dark red with humiliation.
Cole turned his back on Crawford. He turned his back on Alycia.
He leaned down, ignored June’s resisting hands entirely, and drove his arms beneath her knees and behind her back, lifting her against his chest with brute, unyielding strength.
June gasped as the movement jarred her ankle. She glared at him, but she didn’t have the strength to fight a man his size.
Cole held her firmly against his chest, turned his head, and fixed Crawford with a look of cold, absolute warning. Then he carried his wife out of the ballroom, his footsteps falling heavy and steady in the ringing silence.
The freezing night air hit Cole’s face as he carried June through the hotel lobby and out to the curb.
His black Maybach was idling at the entrance. He kicked the rear door open with his shoe and maneuvered June into the back seat. He was not gentle — he was running entirely on adrenaline.
June’s injured ankle caught the edge of the leather seat. A sharp gasp tore from her throat, and she turned on him with eyes burning with pure hatred.
Cole climbed in behind her and slammed the door with a deafening thud.
“To the hospital,” he barked at the driver. “Partition up. Now p>
The thick, soundproof partition rose slowly and sealed the back seat into a dark, suffocatingly private space.
Cole reached up and wrenched his silk tie loose from his collar. His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths. The enclosed air was thick with his cologne and barely contained fury.
He turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto June with the focus of a predator.
June didn’t shrink back. She met his gaze with a cold, mocking stare.
“Have you completely lost your mind, Mr. Compton?” she said, her voice laced with contempt. “Your ‘pregnant’ mistress is still inside waiting for you to play house p>