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Chapter 623
Chapter 623:
“Take your things and go. Before I call the police and tell them you’re trespassing in my home p>
Richard gathered his clothes. He gathered what little remained of his dignity. He walked out of the room that had been theirs for twenty-three years, and he did not look back.
Susan locked the door behind him.
She lay on the bed — their bed, now hers alone — stared at the ceiling, and smiled.
She had forgotten what power felt like.
𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗴𝗲𝗺𝘀 𝗼𝗻
She would not forget again.
June sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse, staring at Archer’s confirmation text on her phone. Her eyes were ice-cold, no trace of emotion left in their depths.
The elevator chimed sharply, shattering the silence.
Sloane strode in on stiletto heels and tossed a thick envelope embossed with the Astor family’s gold crest onto the glass coffee table. June picked it up, her fingertips brushing the custom wax seal concealing the hundred-thousand-dollar charity gala ticket inside.
Sloane poured herself a glass of bourbon and swirled the amber liquid. “Just so you know — the Astor patriarch has a pathological hatred of scandal. Any hint of impropriety and he’ll cut ties faster than you can blink p>
A cold smile tugged at June’s lips. “That’s exactly why I chose his gala as their grave p>
Sloane shivered involuntarily at that smile.
The elevator chimed again.
Easton walked in, dressed in a flawlessly tailored dark gray suit. His gaze locked onto June instantly, a flicker of something unhinged burning beneath his perfectly composed exterior. He stepped to the coffee table, picked up the second ticket — her plus-one — and slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket as if it belonged there.
“Look at you,” Sloane said, raising an eyebrow at her cousin. “Wall Street’s most expensive litigator, willing to wade into this mess for a girl p>
Easton ignored the jab, his eyes never leaving June. “Are you ready to detonate the nuke p>
June stood and walked to a blueprint of the Pierre Hotel’s underground parking garage spread across the wall. She took a red marker and drew a sharp X over an isolated corner on level B2.
Easton stepped behind her, his photographic memory confirming what he already knew. “No security cameras. Perfect blind spot.” He paused, his voice dropping. “But it’s also a dead end. Extremely dangerous p>
“Dead ends are for prey with nowhere to run,” June replied.
Sloane pulled a set of keys with a vintage leather fob from her Hermès bag and tossed them across the room. June caught them cleanly, her eyes settling on the Aston Martin crest.
“1964 DBS,” Sloane said. “All-steel body. No modern electronics, no dash cams, no GPS. Completely untraceable p>
June’s fingers tightened around the keys.
Easton reached out and wrapped his hand firmly around hers. His grip was unyielding.
“Physical impact is unpredictable,” he said, his voice low and careful. “Let one of my men handle it. You don’t have to get your hands dirty p>
June pulled her hand away. “The Beasley blood debt is mine to collect. No one else p>