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Chapter 567
Chapter 567:
As the premier fixer for New York’s elite — and a childhood friend to both Cole and Crawford — his private line had been ringing without pause for six hours. At present, an elderly investment bank chairman of considerable power was standing on the other side of his desk, driving his cane against the floor with each word.
“You have to stop these two lunatics, Julian!” the chairman thundered, his face a deep, alarming red. “They are draining the liquidity out of the entire Manhattan ecosystem! What in God’s name are they even fighting over p>
Julian offered the tightest, most miserable smile he could manage. He couldn’t very well explain to the titans of global finance that the stock market was unraveling because two grown men were in the middle of a catastrophic rivalry over a woman currently sitting peacefully in California.
After finally ushering the chairman out, Julian accepted the inevitable. He couldn’t hide any longer. He had to defuse both bombs before morning.
He picked up his encrypted landline and dialed Cole’s direct number.
It rang ten times before Cole answered.
“If you’re calling to tell me to stop,” Cole said, his voice a ragged, exhausted growl, “I’ll hang up and ruin you as well p>
Julian had no patience left for diplomacy.
“Cole, I just got off the phone with my father. He’s been contacted by the three independent board members who hold your swing votes. They’ve already reached a consensus and are preparing an emergency meeting to have you suspended. I can buy you one night to fix this,” Julian said, his voice flat and cold. “Tonight. Eight o’clock. The Century Club. It’s the only opportunity you’re going to get p>
He hung up.
𝘓a𝗍𝗲𝗌𝘵 𝖼𝘩ар𝗍e𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝘯
He dialed Crawford next.
“Julian, stay out of this,” Crawford answered immediately, his tone carrying the quiet, absolute certainty of a man who has decided where the line is.
Julian exhaled. He reached for the only weapon that could penetrate Crawford’s armor.
“Crawford,” he said quietly. “If June ever finds out that her existence caused ten thousand innocent employees to lose their jobs and their retirement savings — how do you think she’s going to look at you? Do you honestly believe she’ll come anywhere near you again p>
The line went completely silent.
Julian could almost hear the calculation running its course on the other end — the cold, dawning recognition of an outcome Crawford had not fully considered.
“Eight o’clock. I’ll be there,” Crawford said, and the line went dead.
Julian slumped back in his leather chair and stared at the ceiling.
At 7:50 PM, the Century Club — one of Manhattan’s most exclusive and least visible private establishments — was cleared of its regular members entirely. The security presence was extraordinary. Every dimly lit, velvet-lined corridor was occupied by large, silent men in dark suits, eyes moving constantly, hands never far from their sides.
Cole’s bulletproof Maybach screeched to the front entrance. He stepped out and walked through the lobby radiating a cold, concentrated violence that made the staff give him a wide berth.
Seconds later, Crawford’s Aston Martin pulled to the side entrance. He entered the main hall with his face arranged into a mask of total, unreadable composure.
The two men found each other across the room beneath the massive crystal chandelier.