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Chapter 513
Chapter 513:
“This is a mistake! It’s a misunderstanding!” Susan screeched, her nails scraping uselessly against the cold metal as she struggled. She twisted her head, wild eyes locking onto June, still standing silently behind Easton. “It’s her! She filed a false police report! She’s lying p>
The lead officer ignored the screaming. He pulled out a small card and began reading in a loud, unhurried monotone. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law p>
Richard stopped struggling. He realized the public spectacle was obliterating whatever remained of his reputation. He forced a condescending sneer onto his face, attempting to reclaim some semblance of control.
“Listen to me, officer,” Richard said, panting heavily. “This is a massive misunderstanding — a ridiculous civil dispute over a pet. My lawyers will have this cleared up in an hour. You are making a serious mistake p>
A low, dark chuckle cut through the cold air.
Easton stepped out from the protective stance he had taken in front of June and reached into the inner pocket of his cashmere sweater. He withdrew a thick, sealed manila envelope, holding it between his fingers with the casual ease of a man who had been planning this moment for a very long time.
“A civil dispute,” Easton repeated softly. The words sounded like a death sentence.
𝘙𝘦с𝗼m𝗺𝖾𝗇d 𝘁о уo𝘂𝗋 𝗳𝗿i𝗲n𝗱s
He walked over and handed the envelope to the lead detective. “Detective, I believe this documentation will clarify the exact nature of the stolen property p>
The detective tore the envelope open and pulled out a stack of heavy, crisp papers. He scanned the first page. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. He let out a low whistle and looked at the Beasleys as though they had lost their minds.
Easton turned slowly to face Richard and Susan. He straightened his cuffs — a gesture of absolute, unhurried control.
“You thought you had targeted a common house pet,” Easton said, his voice carrying smoothly over the noise of the street. “You thought you were being clever p>
He reached out and tapped the first document in the detective’s hand.
“That Angora rabbit, Snowball, is a purebred Star of Lyon from a world-renowned European breeder. My contacts expedited the official pedigree and valuation paperwork without difficulty,” Easton continued, his eyes fixed on the couple. “That is a certificate of pedigree, verified by the European Rabbit Breeders Association, certifying her as a direct descendant of a champion line p>
Susan stopped screaming. Her jaw went slack. Richard’s eyes bulged.
Easton tapped the second document.
“And that,” he said, his voice dropping to a quiet, lethal register, “is an official certified valuation from the head of luxury collectibles at Sotheby’s New York. Factoring in her genetic lineage and exclusive breeding rights, the current market value of that animal is exactly five hundred thousand dollars p>
The number hung in the freezing air like a detonated charge.
“Five… five hundred thousand?” Richard choked out. Every last trace of color abandoned his face. His knees buckled. He looked as though he might be sick.
Easton smiled. It was a terrifying, predatory smile.