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Chapter 587
Chapter 587:
Alycia crossed the lobby at a run, her Chanel heels slipping on the polished marble.
She grabbed Susan by the arm and hauled her off the floor.
“Mom — stop. Stop talking. Right now,” Alycia said, her voice cracking under the weight of barely contained panic.
She seized the back of Susan’s neck with one hand and Richard’s shoulder with the other, and with brutal, desperate force, bent them both into a deep, humiliating bow before Dr. Zhang.
“Dr. Zhang. Ms. Erickson.” Alycia’s voice broke entirely. Tears ran freely down her face. “I am so sorry. They’ve been drinking. They don’t know what they’re saying. Please — I beg you — forgive them p>
Dr. Zhang looked down at the three trembling figures for a long, silent moment.
“I do not accept apologies from those who lack a soul,” he said quietly.
He turned to June.
“Let us go. The air here has become unpleasant p>
June didn’t look at Alycia. She didn’t look at Susan on the floor or Richard against the pillar. She stepped over Susan’s dropped clutch bag as though it were something she had almost stepped in by accident.
She offered Dr. Zhang her arm.
M𝗼𝘀t 𝗿𝘦𝗮𝘥 t𝗁𝗂ѕ 𝗐e𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝗻
With Brogan walking close behind, the three of them moved through the glass doors and out into the cool New York night — leaving the Beasley family collapsed on the marble floor of the finest restaurant in Manhattan, utterly dismantled by the weight of something they had never been equipped to understand.
The heavy glass doors of Le Bernardin closed behind them, cutting off the muffled sounds of the Beasley family’s collapse as cleanly as a curtain dropping.
The cool Manhattan night air met June’s face. It felt extraordinarily clean.
A sleek black Maybach was already idling at the curb. Brogan’s driver stepped out and opened the rear door without being asked. June guided Dr. Zhang into the backseat and slid in beside him. Brogan took the front.
The car pulled away from the curb smoothly and left the entire circus behind.
Inside, the silence was soft and settled. A mournful cello played at low volume through the speakers, the notes barely audible above the hum of the engine.
June leaned her head back against the leather headrest and closed her eyes. She lifted her right hand and pressed her thumb slowly into her palm. The skin was hot and faintly numb, the nerves still vibrating from the force of the slap.
Dr. Zhang sat beside her, watching her pale, exhausted profile in the dim light.
He let out a long, heavy breath.
“The Compton family is a toxic swamp, June,” he said, his voice quiet and absolute. “Remaining in this city, dealing with those people — it will drain everything that makes you extraordinary. They are parasites, and parasites do not stop on their own p>
June opened her eyes. The flatness in them had not shifted.
She turned to look at him. “I am so sorry, Professor. You should never have been subjected to that tonight p>