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Chapter 339
Chapter 339:
The broker took a terrified step backward. “Less than five minutes ago, our legal department received a Level-One override directive from the Compton Group’s corporate legal team. They invoked a Priority Review clause. All sales activity on this specific estate must be halted immediately until Mr. Cole Compton completes his personal inspection p>
The moment Cole’s name left the broker’s mouth, the temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero.
June’s spine locked into a rigid line. The faint warmth in her chest instantly evaporated, replaced by a familiar, toxic wave of freezing apathy.
Old Mrs. Compton’s face turned into a mask of pure, terrifying wrath. She slammed the rubber tip of her cane against the hardwood floor.
T𝘩e 𝘮o𝘴𝘵 𝗉𝗼𝘱𝗎𝗅a𝗋 𝘯𝘰v𝖾l𝘀 оո
“The Compton Group’s Priority Review clause is strictly designed for commercial real estate acquisitions to prevent corporate espionage!” the old woman roared, her voice shaking the glass walls. “Since when does my grandson have the authority to weaponize corporate bylaws to intercept a residential purchase funded by my private trust p>
The broker flinched, looking as though he were about to be sick from the stress. He had no answer. He was a pawn caught in a war between billionaires.
Before he could formulate an apology, the heavy mahogany doors of the VIP room were pushed open.
A high-pitched, sickeningly sweet laugh echoed into the room.
Cole walked through the doorway in a flawless dark charcoal suit, radiating an aura of arrogant dominance. He tossed a thick manila dossier onto the nearby glass table — a detailed surveillance report of his grandmother’s recent private trust liquidations.
Clinging to his left arm was Alycia Beasley.
She was dressed in a stunning, custom-fitted white designer dress that looked suspiciously like a modern bridal gown. She leaned her head against Cole’s shoulder, her left hand resting prominently on his chest and displaying a massive, blindingly bright diamond engagement ring.
Trailing closely behind them were Richard and Martha Beasley, their faces plastered with greasy, sycophantic smiles.
Alycia’s eyes immediately locked onto the massive digital screen displaying the “Crown of Poseidon” estate.
She let out a theatrical gasp of delight.
“Oh, Cole, darling!” Alycia cooed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “It is absolutely perfect! I adore the private dock. It will be the ideal place to moor the new yacht you promised me p>
Cole looked down at her and raised his hand, gently tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“Anything you want, Alycia,” Cole murmured, his voice soft and indulgent.
Only after this grotesque display of affection did Cole slowly turn his head, as though he had only just noticed the other occupants in the room.
His dark eyes swept over June. He took in the black medical sling and the walking boot. A microscopic twitch of guilt crossed his jaw, but he buried it instantly beneath a thick layer of cold, calculated cruelty before shifting his gaze to his grandmother.
“Grandma,” Cole said, his tone completely flat and devoid of any warmth. “What a coincidence finding you here p>
Old Mrs. Compton’s chest heaved with violent, suppressed rage. She rose to her feet, leaning heavily on her cane, her eyes burning with hellfire.
“Cole,” she spat, the name tasting like poison in her mouth. “What is the meaning of this stunt p>