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Chapter 449
Chapter 449:
“You are wrong, Cole,” Crawford said quietly. His voice was perfectly controlled, designed to cut through the street noise and drive straight into Cole’s skull. “She did not betray you. She wasn’t even in my car last night p>
Cole’s eyes narrowed slightly. His brain scrambled to process it, but his ego refused to accept the information.
Crawford didn’t stop. He twisted the knife.
“But you were right about one thing p>
His eyes locked onto Cole’s. “I am pursuing her. I am hunting her with every resource I have. I will lie, I will scheme, and I will burn this city to the ground just to make her look at me p>
The absolute, unhinged honesty in Crawford’s voice hit Cole like a physical blow. It shattered the fragile illusion he had constructed — the illusion that June was the one initiating the betrayal.
“And she will be mine,” Crawford added, his voice dropping to a freezing register, “because you are a pathetic, abusive coward who never deserved to breathe the same air as her p>
That sentence struck the absolute core of Cole’s deepest, most festering guilt. It found the rotting wound of what he had done to her in the hospital and pressed directly into it.
𝗠о𝗋𝗲 𝘯o𝗏els o𝘯
Cole let out a guttural, feral roar.
He didn’t think. He didn’t care about the cameras. He threw a brutal, sweeping right hook.
His knuckles connected solidly with Crawford’s cheekbone. The crack of bone on bone rang out across the street.
Crawford stumbled backward, his head snapping to the side. A thick line of dark red blood split his lip instantly, running down his chin.
He stopped. He raised his thumb slowly and wiped the blood from his mouth. He looked at the red smear on his skin.
Then a terrifying, genuinely unhinged smile stretched across his face.
Crawford lunged.
He tackled Cole around the waist and drove him violently into the asphalt.
Two billionaires — men who controlled global markets and commanded wealth beyond ordinary comprehension — shed their humanity entirely. They rolled in the filthy gutter of Fifth Avenue, trading brutal punches like feral animals fighting over the same piece of territory.
Cole’s custom suit tore at the shoulder. Crawford’s white shirt was instantly soaked with street grime and his own blood. Cole landed a heavy blow to Crawford’s ribs. Crawford retaliated with a vicious elbow to Cole’s jaw, snapping his head back against the pavement.
The bodyguards from both sides stood frozen in stunned silence. Their operational protocols had no framework for this. Intervening risked federal charges. Pulling their own boss away risked termination. They formed a tense, armed perimeter and screamed at the crowd to move back.
Dozens of cell phones were already raised, recording the spectacular, bloody downfall of New York’s elite.
The screech of heavy tires cut through the chaos.
Four black Range Rovers jumped the curb and formed a tight barricade around the brawl, blocking the pedestrians’ sightlines. The doors flew open. Julian stepped out, his face a shade of purple that suggested a genuine cardiac event was not out of the question. He was flanked by a dozen heavily armed private security contractors.
“Pull them apart!” Julian screamed, his voice cracking. “Right now p>