Chapter 239
Chapter 239:
She knew Cole’s psychological architecture better than anyone. He was an arrogant tyrant, but beneath all of it lived a fatal, obsessive sense of ownership. If he believed he was responsible for the death of his child and the near-death of his wife, the guilt would consume him entirely. He would become relentless. He would discard his pride, his wealth, and everything else in a single-minded pursuit of June’s forgiveness.
And if Cole dedicated himself to redemption — where did that leave Alycia?
The fake pregnancy. The carefully constructed role of the wronged innocent. The entire campaign to become Mrs. Compton. All of it would be vaporized in an instant. He would throw her aside without a backward glance to make room for June.
Alycia didn’t go to her appointment.
She turned and walked rapidly down the hallway, then broke into a sprint. She shoved the exit doors open and ran into the parking garage, throwing herself into the driver’s seat of her red Porsche. Her hands shook so violently she could barely find the ignition button.
She floored the accelerator. The car screamed out of the garage. She ran two red lights and cut through traffic with her chest heaving, swallowed by a suffocating, all-consuming terror.
She skidded to a stop in front of the massive iron gates of Beasley Manor, ran up the front steps, and burst through the heavy oak doors.
“Mom!” Alycia’s voice cracked with hysteria.
Susan Beasley was seated in the opulent living room, calmly sipping Earl Grey from a fine bone china cup.
𝖳𝗵e 𝖻е𝘀𝘁 r𝘦a𝗱𝗂ո𝘨 𝘦xpеr𝗶𝘦ոсe o𝗇
Alycia threw herself onto the Persian rug and buried her face in her mother’s lap.
“It’s over! It’s all over!” she sobbed. “Cole knows about the miscarriage! He knows she almost died! He was kneeling on the hospital floor begging her p>
Susan’s hand went still. The teacup rattled against the saucer.
“Stop screaming and look at me,” Susan said, her voice sharp and commanding. She took Alycia’s chin and forced her daughter’s face upward.
“Mom, you don’t understand!” Alycia wept, mascara streaking down her cheeks. “If June uses his guilt against him — if she offers to take him back and give him a real heir to replace the one he lost — Cole will drop me without a second thought. He’ll give her everything p>
The word heir landed in the room like a stone dropped into still water.
A chilling silence fell over the living room.
Susan set the teacup down slowly and deliberately on the table. A deeply sinister smile crept across her aging lips.
“If a child is the only thing that can bind Cole to that woman,” Susan whispered, her voice low and smooth as a blade drawn from its sheath, “then we simply make certain that June Erickson can never, ever have one p>
The heavy velvet curtains in the study of Beasley Manor were drawn tightly shut, sealing out the morning sun. The room sat in deep, conspiratorial shadow.
Susan Beasley crossed to a large oil painting on the wall, swung the frame aside, and revealed a heavy steel safe behind it. She punched in the code with practiced speed. The door clicked open. She reached to the very back and withdrew a small, completely unlabeled black glass vial.
She carried it to the mahogany desk and set it on the polished surface.