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Chapter 583
Chapter 583:
“June, staying at Apex Bio will make you very wealthy,” he said, dropping his voice. “But the ceiling of commercial capital is too low for a mind like yours p>
June placed her hands quietly in her lap and gave him her complete attention.
Dr. Zhang reached into his worn leather briefcase and produced a thick manila folder. Stamped across the front in bold red letters were the words: TOP SECRET.
He slid it across the white tablecloth until it rested at the edge of her plate.
“The National Institutes of Health is launching a classified project on central nervous system regeneration,” he said. “It reports directly to the White House. Unlimited funding. Level-1 security clearance.” He looked at her directly. “I want you as my lead researcher p>
June stared at the red lettering.
Her lungs forgot their function for a moment.
This was not simply a position. It was an impenetrable shield of federal authority. As a classified national asset, a Wall Street billionaire like Cole Compton would not be able to so much as approach her without triggering a federal investigation. The Compton family’s shadow, which had been pressing down on her for four years, would become legally irrelevant.
Brogan exhaled sharply from across the table. He understood exactly what was happening.
June steadied her hands and looked up at Dr. Zhang, her eyes burning with a gratitude she could barely contain.
“Professor,” she said, her voice thick with it. “This is the greatest honor of my life. Give me three days to dispose of some personal matters. Then I am entirely yours p>
𝖨𝗻𝘁еnsе 𝘳𝗈𝘮𝗮n𝘤𝘦 o𝗻.сo𝗺
Dr. Zhang smiled and nodded once.
The dinner ended in a state of quiet, electric triumph. As June rose from the table, she felt genuinely lighter than she had in four years. The suffocating weight of the Compton family’s reach was finally, visibly, beginning to break apart.
June, Brogan, and Dr. Zhang made their way out through the winding, carpeted corridor separating the private dining rooms from the front of the house. They emerged into the open expanse of the main lobby.
A sound hit June’s ears.
Loud, grating, entirely without restraint — a shriek of laughter that cut through the refined atmosphere of the restaurant like something dropped from a great height.
June turned toward it.
Standing in the center of the lobby, wearing a blinding pink sequined gown that scattered light in every direction like a disco ball, was Susan Beasley. She was gripping Richard’s arm with one hand and pointing the other directly into the face of a visibly terrified maître d p>
The lobby of Le Bernardin was a space engineered for hushed voices and discreet movement.
Susan’s voice tore through it like a blade.
“Are you blind?!” she shrieked, waving her diamond-encrusted clutch dangerously close to the maître d’s face. “You seated us directly next to the kitchen doors! I can smell the dishwater from my chair! Do you have any idea who we are p>