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Chapter 338
Chapter 338:
The broker swallowed hard. His fingers trembled slightly as he tapped a hidden folder on his tablet.
The massive screen lit up with a breathtaking aerial photograph.
“We call this ‘The Crown of Poseidon,’” the broker whispered reverently.
It was a sprawling, historic stone manor sitting on a private peninsula, with three hundred and sixty degrees of unobstructed ocean views, a vast private beach, and a deep-water dock capable of housing a superyacht. It was a fortress of absolute luxury.
Old Mrs. Compton’s eyes gleamed with deep satisfaction. She studied the impenetrable walls of the estate. It was perfect.
“We will take it,” Old Mrs. Compton said, her voice entirely casual, as though she were ordering a cup of coffee.
The broker’s face flushed. The commission on this single sale would secure his retirement.
𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘯
“Excellent, Madam,” the broker stammered, frantically pulling up the electronic purchase agreement on his tablet. “I just need a digital signature to lock the escrow account p>
June looked at the vast, beautiful fortress on the screen. A strange, heavy emotion settled in her chest. She was about to own a castle, entirely independent of Cole.
Old Mrs. Compton reached over and gently patted June’s hand. “May your future be as vast and free as that ocean, my child. No one will ever cage you again p>
June’s eyes burned. She squeezed the old woman’s hand and whispered a sincere, choked “Thank you p>
The broker stepped forward, holding the glowing tablet out toward June.
Just as she raised her hand to take the stylus, the broker’s private cell phone erupted in a shrill, aggressive ringtone.
He apologized quickly and stepped back to answer it.
He lifted the phone to his ear and listened for exactly three seconds.
Instantly, all color drained from the broker’s face. His skin turned the shade of wet ash. His eyes widened in visceral terror, and the expensive tablet in his hand began to shake.
The luxurious VIP room fell into a sudden, suffocating silence.
The senior broker slowly lowered his cell phone. His hand was trembling so violently that the tablet in his other hand rattled against his gold watch. A thick layer of cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
Old Mrs. Compton’s eyes narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits. She recognized the scent of fear.
“What is the problem?” the old woman demanded, her voice dropping to a low, lethal register.
The broker swallowed hard. His throat clicked audibly in the quiet room. He looked at the matriarch as though she were a loaded gun pointed directly at his chest.
“I… I am so profoundly sorry, Mrs. Compton,” the broker stammered, his voice cracking with panic. “The ‘Crown of Poseidon’ property — it has just been frozen in our system p>
Old Mrs. Compton’s grip on her wooden cane tightened. Her knuckles turned white.
“Frozen?” she repeated, the word slicing through the air like a razor. “Explain yourself. Now p>