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Chapter 363
Chapter 363:
Alycia was standing in the hallway. She had not come here by accident. Driven by toxic paranoia, she had secretly bribed a junior dispatcher at the Compton private car service to track the GPS coordinates of June’s town car. Knowing June was heading to Mt. Sinai, Alycia had booked a fake, last-minute OB-GYN appointment in the adjacent wing as cover. Flashing a forged consulting physician ID she had acquired for precisely such occasions, she slipped past the nurses’ station, found a shadowy alcove with a clear view of the VIP suite, and waited.
Alycia stared through the glass. She saw the intimate whispering between Brogan and June. She saw the old man press the priceless sapphire heirloom into June’s hands.
Unable to hear a single word of the exchange, Alycia’s mind instantly leapt to the most toxic, enraging conclusion it could construct.
She just got rid of Cole, and she’s already marrying into the Clements family p>
A wave of pure, psychotic jealousy crashed over her.
а𝖽dic𝘵𝗂𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝘵𝘰𝗿і𝖾s 𝗈n
Alycia’s hands shook violently. Her face twisted into a mask of cold, consuming hatred.
The heavy, faded blue velvet box rested in the center of June’s right palm — the only hand she had available while her left arm was securely strapped to her chest in a dark, restrictive medical sling.
It felt incredibly hot against her skin, burning like a piece of iron pulled straight from a forge. Inside that box was a priceless sapphire brooch, a legendary artifact of the Clements family.
June stared at the box. Her stomach twisted into a tight, uncomfortable knot. Her right foot, encased in a bulky, rigid medical walking boot, throbbed with a dull ache, forcing her to lean heavily on her sleek carbon-fiber crutch.
She slowly turned her head and looked at Brogan. Her calm eyes were filled with a silent, desperate plea. She needed him to intervene — to stop this massive misunderstanding before it went any further.
Brogan stood beside the hospital bed. He saw the panic in her eyes.
He offered her a deeply apologetic, entirely helpless smile and gave a microscopic shake of his head, gesturing toward the heart monitor attached to his grandfather. The machine beeped steadily, but the old man’s blood pressure was dangerously high.
June dragged a sharp breath of sterile hospital air into her lungs.
She knew she could not reject a dying man to his face. The shock could literally kill him.
She forced her stiff facial muscles to relax and curled her fingers around the velvet box, her movements careful and deliberate as she shifted her weight on the crutch.
“Thank you, Mr. Clements,” June said, her voice soft but strained. “I will keep it completely safe p>
Old Mr. Clements let out a loud, joyous laugh.
He reached out and grabbed her hand with his frail, trembling fingers, looking at her as though she were the greatest prize in the world. He immediately began to brag, his voice thick with pride, telling her stories about how he had built his empire as a young man on Wall Street.
June stood by the bed and listened patiently. She nodded at the right moments and offered gentle, polite smiles. The quiet elegance she carried in her bones made the old man like her more with every passing second.
Brogan stood a few feet away.