Chapter 149
Chapter 149:
“You should care about this part,” Sloane said, leaning forward. “My mother plays bridge with Susan Beasley. The Beasleys are currently trying to acquire a real estate portfolio my family has been pursuing for months. If Alycia consolidates her position inside the Compton empire, she will have the capital to crush our bid.” She paused, letting the weight of what came next land cleanly. “Susan has been quietly circulating the Upper East Side asking for the names of discreet, private OB/GYNs. The kind who do not ask questions and are skilled at keeping secrets p>
June’s blood went cold. Her eyes narrowed into fine, dangerous slits.
She understood immediately. Alycia and her mother were cornered, and they were preparing to deploy the most vicious, desperate weapon available to them. The final and most toxic game was about to begin.
At three o’clock that afternoon, the heavy revolving glass doors of the Compton Group headquarters spun open.
Alycia Beasley marched into the marble-floored lobby in a conspicuous bright red Chanel suit, carrying a pristine white paper bag bearing the logo of the most exclusive, impossible-to-book French patisserie in Manhattan. Her smile was perfectly calibrated — warm, effortless, practiced — but her eyes were frantic. Since the disastrous charity auction, Cole had gone completely silent. Not a returned call. Not a single acknowledgment. She was being erased, and she could feel it happening in real time.
𝖳𝗁o𝘂𝘀𝗮ո𝗱s о𝖿 𝗿𝘦аd𝘦rѕ 𝗼𝗇
She bypassed the front desk entirely, swiped a VIP access card she had lifted from Cole’s penthouse months ago, and stepped into the private executive elevator.
The doors opened on the top floor.
She walked down the silent, heavily carpeted corridor toward the double mahogany doors of the CEO’s office.
Before she could reach the handle, Cole’s executive assistant stepped directly into her path. His expression was a wall of cold, professional stone.
“Ms. Beasley,” he said, his voice stripped of any warmth. “Mr. Compton is reviewing highly sensitive SEC documents. He has given strict orders not to be disturbed p>
Alycia’s smile flickered for a fraction of a second before she reassembled it. She held the paper bag forward. “I know he’s under enormous pressure,” she said, her voice dipping into practiced sympathy. “I stood in line for two hours to get his favorite raspberry macarons. Please — just let me slip inside and leave them on his desk p>
The assistant looked at the bag. He knew with absolute certainty that the patisserie offered a platinum delivery service to every billionaire in the city and that Alycia had not stood in any line. He did not bother pointing this out.
“I will take the bag, Ms. Beasley,” he said flatly, extending his hand. “You need to leave p>
Alycia’s fingers tightened around the handles. Her nails pressed into her palms.
Before she could respond, the mahogany doors behind the assistant were yanked open.
Cole stepped into the hallway. He had come directly from his confrontation at Hayes Pharmaceuticals — suit jacket unbuttoned, tie gone, face a dark and volatile storm cloud of rage and barely suppressed jealousy. His eyes landed on Alycia.
The crease between his brows deepened immediately. A wave of exhaustion and visceral revulsion moved across his face.
Alycia stepped around the assistant and thrust the bag toward his chest. “Cole! I brought you a surprise. I know how hard you’ve been p>
Cole did not look at the bag. He did not reach for it.