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Chapter 475
Chapter 475:
Easton pulled the car to a stop in front of her apartment building and shifted into park. He did not push her. He simply let the weight of the alternative settle over them both.
“You do not have to answer me right now,” he said softly, offering her the illusion of choice. “Think about it. Think about whether you want to keep fighting a ghost in the shadows, or step into the light and force his hand. But remember — I am always on your side p>
June unbuckled her seatbelt and looked at his handsome, reassuring face. Her heart beat hard against her ribs. She was so desperate for real freedom that the offer looked terrifyingly irresistible.
“I will think about it,” she whispered.
She stepped out of the car. Easton watched her cross the lobby and disappear through the glass doors. A slow, quiet smile spread across his face.
𝖱𝗈𝗺аnce novе𝗹s 𝘰n
The trap was set. She was already stepping inside.
The massive penthouse apartment was completely dark. The only illumination came from the cold neon glow of the Manhattan skyline bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Cole sat alone on the edge of the custom Italian leather sofa, still wearing the black suit from the hospital. The jacket lay discarded on the floor. His tie had been ripped away, and the top three buttons of his shirt were torn open.
The heavy glass coffee table in front of him was a disaster. Three empty bottles of Macallan 25-year-old single malt whiskey lay on their sides. The air in the room was thick and suffocating, saturated with expensive alcohol and absolute despair.
Cole’s mind was misfiring. The whiskey was supposed to numb the pain — instead it was acting like a magnifying glass, searing the image of the hospital hallway deeper into his skull with every passing minute.
He saw Easton’s hand on June’s waist. He saw the way she looked at Easton — with trust, with ease. He saw the freezing, absolute hatred in her eyes when she had looked at him.
A violent tremor ripped through his frame.
He could not breathe. His chest felt as though it had been cracked open with a crowbar.
Driven by pure, toxic desperation and the blinding haze of the whiskey, Cole lunged forward and grabbed his cell phone from the table. His fingers were shaking so badly he dropped it twice before managing to unlock the screen.
He scrolled to June’s name. He pressed call.
He didn’t know what he was going to say. He only knew he needed to hear her voice. He needed to scream at her to stay away from that lawyer. He needed to demand she come home.
He pressed the phone to his ear. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Instead of a ringing tone, a cold, automated voice filled the silence.
“We’re sorry, the number you have reached has restricted incoming calls p>
Cole went completely still. The message repeated itself.
The phone slipped from his fingers and landed on the carpet.