Chapter 274
Chapter 274:
A shadow detached itself from the hallway. Crawford’s personal assistant moved in with the silence of a ghost and leaned close to his ear.
“Sir,” the assistant murmured. “Our personnel embedded in the hotel’s internal network just flagged an activity pattern. Ms. Erickson placed an emergency room-service order and immediately canceled it. Shortly after, the front desk received a call from her suite inquiring about sourcing clothing at this hour. Given the condition of her garments after the altercation, she has nothing to wear and the hotel cannot source her size until morning p>
Crawford’s eyes narrowed. He raised a single finger, dismissing the assistant.
Across the room, Cole had clearly caught fragments of the whispered report. His thumb was already moving across his phone screen, ready to wake up every store manager in the city with a blank check.
Crawford stood.
“Put your phone away, Compton,” he said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
Cole stopped and glared.
“You can throw every dollar you own at this problem,” Crawford said, a cool, contemptuous smile forming on his lips. “It won’t help you. Because you don’t even know her measurements p>
The words landed like a fist in Cole’s throat. His thumb froze over the screen. A hollow, sickening sensation expanded in his chest.
Crawford was right. In three years of marriage, Cole had never once bothered to learn her dress size, her shoe size, or anything about the clothes she wore.
𝖠𝗱𝖽𝗂сt𝗂𝘷𝗲 𝘯𝗈𝘷𝖾𝗹𝘴 𝘰𝗇 𝘨𝘢ln𝘰vе𝗅ѕ.cо𝘮
Crawford didn’t give him a second to recover. He picked up his car keys and walked out the door.
Thirty minutes later, Crawford’s Range Rover pulled up to a discreet, unmarked storefront in the heart of Boston’s luxury district — an exclusive twenty-four-hour private buyer boutique accessible only to a handful of clients worldwide.
Crawford pushed the glass door open. The boutique assistant behind the counter rose immediately, her eyes widening at the quiet, overwhelming authority radiating from the man who had just walked in.
“I need a complete wardrobe,” Crawford said, his voice calm and absolute.
He didn’t glance at a single tag. He already knew precisely what to look for. Months earlier, when he had first decided to pursue the Apex Bio partnership, his meticulous nature had demanded exhaustive profiles on every key executive. His intelligence team had compiled them with terrifying thoroughness. He had memorized her data long before they had ever shaken hands.
He looked at the assistant and recited a precise sequence of numbers — her exact European sizing in the Italian luxury labels she favored, her waist measurement, her shoulder width, and her shoe size — with flawless, unhesitating accuracy.
The assistant’s mouth opened slightly. She grabbed a notepad and began writing quickly.
Crawford moved through the racks with sharp, decisive eyes. He pulled a stunning, minimalist Loro Piana cashmere dress in deep charcoal and a crisp, tailored silk blouse. Then he crossed to the intimate apparel section.
He didn’t hesitate. He selected a set of La Perla black lace lingerie.