Chapter 173
Chapter 173:
Alycia returned to the room, composed her expression into something soft and fragile, and moved toward Cole at the edge of the dance floor. She extended her hand, expecting him to take it and confirm to the room that they were a couple.
Cole didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed entirely on the terrace doors.
June and Crawford walked back into the ballroom.
The music swelled. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see who would take the floor.
Crawford Love didn’t hesitate. He ignored every unwritten rule of high society, walked directly across the open floor — past the mayor, past the bank CEOs — and stopped squarely in front of June. He bowed slightly at the waist and extended his hand.
“Dr. Erickson,” his deep voice carried across the hushed room, “do I have the honor of this first dance p>
A collective intake of breath moved through the ballroom.
It was a public declaration. A direct, unmistakable challenge to Cole Compton’s claim as her husband.
June looked at Crawford’s steady, outstretched hand. She felt the weight of Cole’s burning stare from across the room.
She felt no desire for revenge. Only a profound, expansive sense of freedom — the feeling of chains finally falling away.
R𝗲𝘢𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝘁𝗵𝗈𝘶𝗍 𝘪𝘯𝗍e𝘳𝘳𝗎p𝘁𝗶о𝗇𝘀 о𝘯
June smiled. A real smile, breathtaking in its ease. She raised her hand and placed it gently in Crawford’s palm.
“The honor is mine,” she said.
Crawford drew her smoothly onto the center of the dance floor, settled his hand at her waist, and they began to waltz.
The press photographers lining the edges of the room erupted. Flashbulbs fired like lightning, capturing the two of them spinning at the center of everything. Cole stood motionless at the edge of the floor. The flashes blinded him. The music felt like mockery. His blood ran so hot he could feel it in his temples.
He had lost. In front of the entire elite of New York, he had lost his wife to a better man.
A few feet away, Alycia stood with her hand still awkwardly suspended in the air. Nearby guests were already pointing and whispering. She was the punchline of the evening.
The storm had finally broken, and it was going to sweep all of them away.
The final, sweeping note of the waltz faded through the grand ballroom.
Crawford Love released June’s waist with practiced grace, took a small step back, and inclined his head in a gesture of genuine respect. He held her hand gently as he guided her off the polished dance floor and toward the quieter seating area at the room’s edge.
The weight of a hundred stares followed their every step. Whispers moved through the crowd like a wave of heat.
Cole stood near the marble pillar, his chest heaving. The blood roared so loudly in his ears that it swallowed the sound of the applause. He watched Crawford’s hand holding June’s, and his fingers tightened around his champagne flute until a thin, audible crack split the crystal.
Julian Thorne stood a few feet away, feeling the toxic energy radiating off Cole like a physical force. He needed to break the tension before something irreparable happened in front of the mayor.