Chapter 580
Chapter 579:
“Turn around,” Justin said, his voice cold and hollow. “Take us to the Upper East Side p>
Lee didn’t ask questions. He cut the heavy SUV through traffic without hesitation.
Twenty minutes later, the Cadillac idled two blocks from a high-end boutique. Justin stared at the live street camera feed on the SUV’s internal monitor.
Carmen stood on the sidewalk in a beige trench coat and dark sunglasses, glancing around nervously.
A sleek black Mercedes S-Class pulled up to the curb in front of her.
𝘔𝗼𝗿𝘦 𝗇o𝗏е𝘭𝗌 𝗼𝘯
Justin’s breathing stopped.
The driver’s window rolled down. A man in a sharp suit. Justin recognized the profile immediately. Davis. The criminal investigator. The man she was meeting in secret.
Carmen quickly opened the passenger door and slid inside.
A burning, toxic acid flooded Justin’s chest. His hands curled into fists on his lap. Why is she getting into his car? If it is just a case, why aren’t they meeting at his office?
“Follow them,” Justin said. “Do not lose them p>
The Cadillac trailed the Mercedes through the winding streets of the Upper East Side until it pulled up to a discreet, unmarked black door set into a brick wall.
Justin knew the place. It was a hyper-exclusive, members-only private café — notorious for absolute discretion. No cameras inside. One-way glass on the windows. The kind of establishment where politicians conducted deals they couldn’t afford to have witnessed, and where the elite went when they needed to disappear entirely.
Carmen and Davis stepped out of the car and walked to the door together. Davis reached out and placed his hand lightly on the small of Carmen’s back to guide her inside.
The sight of another man’s hand on his wife snapped the last frayed thread of Justin’s self-control.
A red, violent haze descended over his vision. He didn’t think. He simply moved.
Justin shoved the heavy SUV door open and stepped out into the street.
“Senator, wait!” Lee shouted, jumping out after him.
Justin didn’t hear him. He moved toward the black door with terrifying, mechanical purpose.
At the entrance, a massive bouncer in a suit stepped into his path. “Sir, this is a private p>
Justin reached into his pocket and pressed his gold Senate security pin directly against the man’s face. The bouncer hesitated for a fraction of a second. Justin used his shoulder to drive past him and stormed into the dimly lit interior.
The café was quiet — plush velvet booths, heavy curtains, conversations held just above a whisper. Justin’s eyes swept the room.
He spotted a VIP booth in the far corner. The velvet curtain was partially drawn.
Through the gap, he saw Carmen on the sofa. She was crying. Davis leaned toward her, his hands covering hers on the table.
It was a gesture of comfort. But to Justin’s traumatized, paranoid mind, the image collapsed into the memory of Carmen’s face in the freezing rain — her voice cold and absolute as she shattered his world. The past and the present folded into a single, unbearable moment.