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Chapter 414
Chapter 414:
It was his final, desperate threat. The ultimate tantrum of a broken tyrant.
June looked at his screaming, red face. The anger drained from her chest, leaving nothing behind but a cold, empty silence.
She shook her head slowly.
“Take your money, Cole,” she said, her voice completely dead. “Take your threats. And take the child you are having with that lying snake p>
She picked up her crutch, walked around the desk, and moved past him without so much as a glance.
“Go to hell,” June said.
The words go to hell echoed in Cole’s skull in a continuous, deafening loop.
Hours later, after a silent and agonizing drive back from the coast, he stood perfectly still in the center of the Compton Manor study. The air was heavy and suffocating. He was a statue carved from pure ice, the violent rejection he had just suffered still burning like acid in his veins.
The heavy mahogany doors creaked open.
Eleanor Compton walked in. Mrs. Lynch held her elbow, guiding her slowly across the thick Persian rug.
𝘑𝘰𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝘩𝗲 c𝗈𝘮𝗆u𝗇𝗶ty at
The sharp scent of expensive whiskey and raw, undeniable failure rolled off Cole’s body, filling the room instantly.
Eleanor stopped. She leaned her weight onto her silver cane and looked at her grandson.
There was no pity in her eyes. Only a freezing, bottomless disappointment.
“Starting tonight,” Eleanor said, her voice perfectly calm but carrying the crushing weight of an absolute decree, “until the divorce agreement between you and June is finalized, you are forbidden from seeing that Beasley woman p>
Cole’s jaw locked. The muscles in his neck strained against his collar.
“This is to preserve the last shred of decency this family has left,” Eleanor added, her eyes narrowing. “And it is for your own good p>
Cole slowly lifted his head. His eyes were completely bloodshot. He opened his mouth — he was already in hell, June had sent him there, and what was one more command, one more chain? A surge of raw, directionless rage rose in him, seeking a target, his grandmother right there in front of him. But the sheer, terrifying gravity of her presence crushed the words in his throat. He snapped his mouth shut.
A sharp electronic buzz shattered the silence.
His private cell phone lit up in his hand. The name Alycia flashed on the screen.
His thumb moved immediately toward the red decline button.
“Answer it,” Eleanor commanded, her voice carrying a short, utterly dismissive note. “I want to hear what kind of theater she has prepared for tonight p>
A hot flush of humiliation crawled up Cole’s neck. His fingers trembled slightly as he pressed the green button and hit the speaker icon.
“Cole…” Alycia’s voice filled the quiet study.
It was weak and thick with tears, calibrated to project absolute helplessness.
“I feel so sick,” she sobbed softly. “I just threw up again. My entire stomach is cramping so badly — I can’t breathe p>