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Chapter 396
Chapter 396:
“Are you absolutely sure it’s the right file?” June asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Positive,” Abbie confirmed. “It’s the exact copy of your post-surgery evaluation from Mount Sinai. The one clearly stating the severe damage to your fallopian tube and the diagnosis of Premature Ovarian Failure p>
It was the ultimate, lethal trap.
Months ago, when Cole had neglected her after her ectopic pregnancy surgery, the physical trauma and severe depression had caused massive damage to her reproductive system. The medical report stating she was highly unlikely to ever conceive was one hundred percent real. And because it was real, it would hold up to any background check the Beasleys tried to run.
June had deliberately used Abbie to leak this specific, highly confidential file to Alycia’s spies at the hospital.
She knew exactly how the greedy, desperate minds of the Beasley family worked. She knew they would view her “infertility” as the ultimate weapon to destroy her standing with the Compton family board.
“Excellent,” June said, her voice settling into dark satisfaction. “Tell the inside contact to keep her head down and watch their next move p>
𝖱e𝘢d 𝘧𝗋𝘦е nоv𝗲𝗅𝘀 on ѕ.сo𝗺
She ended the call.
She looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The woman staring back at her was not a victim. She was a calculating hunter who had just locked the cage door on her prey.
She changed quickly into the black silk dress, smoothed her features into a soft, polite mask, and walked back out into the hallway.
Brogan was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. He looked at her in the black dress, and his breath caught in his throat.
June offered him a warm smile.
“Everything okay?” Brogan asked gently.
“Everything is perfect,” June replied.
The air inside the heavy oak-paneled study of the Beasley mansion in Greenwich was thick with the smell of expensive cigars and manic, greedy excitement.
Richard and Martha Beasley paced the floor like caged animals.
The heavy double doors suddenly burst open.
Alycia stormed into the room. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide and glowing with a sick, twisted euphoria.
She slammed a thick brown manila envelope onto the center of Richard’s mahogany desk.
“I got it!” Alycia shrieked, her voice cracking with excitement. “My contact at Mount Sinai finally pulled the restricted file p>
Richard lunged forward. He ripped the envelope open, his hands shaking violently, and pulled out the stack of medical papers.
A red “TOP SECRET” stamp glared at the top of the page, right next to the name: June Erickson.
Richard’s eyes scanned the dense medical jargon, skipping down to the final diagnostic conclusion at the bottom of the page. He read it aloud, his voice trembling.
“Patient suffered severe trauma from ectopic pregnancy… resulting in the removal of the right fallopian tube… severe adhesions on the left… diagnosis of irreversible Premature Ovarian Failure.” He looked up, his face splitting into a grotesque grin. “Conclusion: Severe Infertility p>
The study went dead silent for exactly three seconds.
Then Martha Beasley threw her head back and let out a shrill, piercing laugh.