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Chapter 450
Chapter 450:
Six contractors rushed in. It took three men on each side to physically separate the two men — Crawford had his hands locked around Cole’s throat, and Cole was actively trying to gouge Crawford’s eye.
They were hauled to their feet, both chests heaving violently.
Cole’s left eye was already swelling shut, darkening to an ugly purple. He spat blood onto the asphalt, his gaze still fixed on Crawford with pure, undiminished hatred.
Crawford’s nose was bleeding heavily. He was laughing — a dark, breathless sound that mocked Cole’s complete loss of control.
Julian turned to the crowd, took one look at the sea of raised cameras, and felt his blood pressure spike to a dangerous level.
𝘠𝗼𝗎𝘳 ո𝗲𝘹𝘁 𝘧а𝘷o𝘳it𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗮𝗱 𝗂𝘴 o𝘯 𝗀𝗮lո𝗼vе𝗹ѕ.с𝗼𝘮
“Block the sightlines — form a perimeter and identify everyone with a camera,” Julian barked at his men. “Approach them individually, offer cash for deletion on the spot, but do not use force. Our legal team handles the rest p>
He spun to face Cole and Crawford, pointing at two separate Range Rovers.
“Get in the cars,” Julian said, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. “Both of you. Right now, before the NYPD arrives and you spend the night in a holding cell p>
The bodyguards practically shoved their respective bosses into the back seats. The doors slammed shut.
The convoy accelerated away, leaving behind a destroyed Aston Martin and a dark smear of billionaire blood in the gutter of Fifth Avenue.
The three Range Rovers bypassed the main streets and descended into a subterranean parking garage in Soho.
Julian led Cole and Crawford through a reinforced steel door and into his private underground club — a facility designed for politicians and celebrities who needed to disappear from the world on short notice.
They entered a massive, soundproofed private room. The air inside was thick and suffocating.
Cole sat at the far left end of a long, curved leather sofa, holding a plastic bag of crushed ice against his swelling eye. The flesh around it had already turned a grotesque, deep purple. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding.
Crawford sat at the far right end, pressing a white towel against his bloody nose, his lower lip split and swelling, dried blood caked into the stubble along his jaw. He didn’t look at Cole. He stared at the marble coffee table with eyes like dead ash.
A private concierge doctor cleaned their cuts, applied butterfly stitches to Crawford’s lip, and fled the room as quickly as professionally possible.
Julian stood in the center, walked to the wet bar, grabbed a bottle of Grey Goose, and poured a heavy measure into a crystal glass. He drained it in one swallow.
He slammed the glass down and turned to Cole.
“Are you completely out of your mind?” Julian said, pointing a shaking finger at him. “A street brawl on Fifth Avenue? If I hadn’t been three blocks away, the footage would be on CNN right now. Compton Group stock would drop twenty percent by noon p>
Cole slowly lowered the ice pack. His good eye fixed on Julian. “He touched my wife p>
Crawford let out a sharp, mocking scoff and pulled the bloody towel from his face. “Ex-wife. You pathetic, delusional tyrant p>
Message from Noa: Lovely readers, hope you liked today’s chapters, have a beautiful morning. God loves you and Noa wishes you all the best.( p>