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Chapter 397
Chapter 397:
She snatched the paper from Richard’s hands and stared at the words, her eyes burning with pure, toxic malice.
“That barren woman!” Martha spat, laughing so hard tears formed in her eyes. “The Compton board will never, ever let Cole stay married to someone who cannot produce an heir p>
Richard rushed to the antique crystal liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of vintage Dom Pérignon, and popped the cork. The loud sound echoed like a gunshot. He poured three glasses, the golden liquid spilling over the edges in his haste, and shoved one into Alycia’s hand.
“To the future Mrs. Cole Compton!” Richard declared, raising his glass.
Alycia took a long gulp of champagne. The alcohol burned down her throat, fueling the fire of her arrogance.
“I told you,” Alycia sneered, her eyes narrowing with vicious pride. “June is nothing. I am the only one who deserves to wear that family crown p>
Richard slammed his empty glass onto the desk. The celebration was over. It was time for the kill.
His eyes turned dark and ruthless. He looked directly at his daughter.
“Alycia,” Richard commanded, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “The timing has to be perfect. You need to be confirmed pregnant by the end of this month p>
Alycia nodded slowly. The gears in her twisted mind were already turning.
Martha stepped closer, gripping Alycia’s arm.
𝗝𝗈𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝘦 c𝗼𝗆𝗺𝘶n𝘪𝘁𝘺 аt
“Your father is right,” Martha hissed. “If you announce a pregnancy while June’s medical records are leaked to the board, it is a guaranteed checkmate. Old Mrs. Compton will have no choice but to force Cole to sign those divorce papers to legitimize the heir p>
It was a brilliant, utterly demonic plan to force a coup.
Richard walked behind his desk and pulled out a burner phone.
“I have a contact,” Richard said, his voice low and deliberate. “A former OB-GYN. He lost his medical license for altering records. For the right price, he will generate a flawless, verifiable lab report p>
Alycia’s eyes widened with pure delight.
“Within four weeks,” Alycia promised, her voice vibrating with certainty, “I will walk into the Compton Group headquarters and hand Eleanor Compton the ultrasound of her great-grandchild p>
The three of them raised their glasses again. The crystal clinked sharply in the quiet study. They threw their heads back and laughed, filling the dark room with the sound of their own undoing.
The morning sun hit the glass facade of the Apex Bio headquarters, but inside the building, the atmosphere was as cold and heavy as a morgue.
June walked through the electronic security gates. Her medical boot thudded heavily against the floor.
The moment she stepped onto the main research and development floor, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
The massive, open-plan laboratory — usually buzzing with the sound of centrifuges and heated scientific debate — was completely dead.
Dozens of junior technicians stood around their workstations, heads bowed, whispering in panicked, hushed tones. When they saw June, they immediately looked away, their eyes filled with fear.
June’s stomach tightened. A cold spike of dread pierced her chest.