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Chapter 589
Chapter 589:
“I will sign it,” she said, her eyes steady as stone. “But not tonight. I will not leave this city like a fugitive. I will walk out on my own terms — after I have settled every account p>
Dr. Zhang studied her face. He saw the scientist. He also saw the warrior. After a long moment, he nodded slowly, something between pride and deep respect moving quietly in his expression.
The Maybach curved into the circular driveway of the Waldorf Astoria. The uniformed doorman moved immediately to the rear door.
Dr. Zhang stepped out into the night air, then turned back to look at her one final time.
“I will expect you in Washington, Dr. Erickson,” he said. “Don’t be late p>
June watched her mentor pass through the revolving doors until he disappeared.
The car door closed. The soft silence returned, leaving only June and Brogan in the dim interior.
Brogan looked at her. His expression held something layered and complex — deep admiration, a sharp edge of loss, and something that looked very much like relief.
He smiled quietly, almost to himself.
“So that’s the plan,” he said softly. “You’re going to burn it all down first p>
Midnight.
𝘑oi𝗇 o𝘂r 𝘤𝗼𝗆𝘮𝘶ո𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝗈𝘯 ѕ.𝘤𝗈𝗺
The storm over the Hamptons estate was ferocious. Black Atlantic waves detonated against the jagged rocks below with a force that shook the ground, the sound rolling through the darkness like sustained artillery.
A private helicopter descended through the heavy rain and struck the concrete helipad hard. The side door slid open before the rotors had fully slowed.
Cole dropped out into the downpour. He was wearing a dark suit with no tie, smelling of stale whiskey and the particular sweat of a man who had spent days in a war room running on adrenaline and rage. He had received a frantic call from Mrs. Lynch — Eleanor’s heart was giving her trouble — and he had left his trading floor without a word to anyone.
He sprinted across the wet grass and burst through the back doors of the mansion, taking the grand staircase two steps at a time. He strode the length of the empty hallway and pushed open the heavy mahogany double doors of Eleanor’s master suite.
The room was almost entirely dark. A single dim wall sconce cast a low amber light across the space.
Eleanor was propped against a stack of velvet pillows on the massive bed, her face the color of ash. Her breathing appeared steady. Cole slowed, scanning the room for the medical team. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that a degree of theatrical crisis was the only reliable method his grandmother had ever found to guarantee his immediate return.
Her eyes were open. They were entirely, disconcertingly sharp.
Cole crossed to the bed, jaw clenched.
“Where is the doctor?” he demanded, his voice rough with adrenaline. “I pay that man a considerable sum to keep you stable p>
Eleanor raised one frail, trembling hand and pointed a single bony finger at the wooden nightstand.
Cole stopped.