Chapter 23
Chapter 23:
She pressed a kiss to a sleeping Vera’s forehead and left a note on the nightstand: Gone to court. See you on the other side.
She ordered a car.
Traffic was a gridlock disaster. Fifth Avenue was completely frozen.
8:15 AM. The car had not moved in ten minutes.
“There’s a protest up ahead, miss,” the driver said. “We’re stuck p>
June checked the GPS. The courthouse was six blocks away.
“I’ll walk,” she said, and opened the door.
The heat of the city pressed down on her immediately.
She started moving. One block. Two blocks. The pavement seemed to shift beneath her feet. The noise of the city — horns, sirens, voices — blurred together into a single, indistinct roar. Her vision began to narrow at the edges.
𝘙𝖾c𝘰𝗺meո𝗱 𝗍𝗈 y𝗼𝗎𝗋 𝗳𝗋і𝖾𝗇𝘥ѕ
Just make it to the steps, she told herself. Just get it done.
Four blocks.
Her legs had turned to lead. Sweat poured down her back, stinging the incision. She caught sight of the courthouse dome above the rooftops.
It looked impossibly far away.
9:05 AM.
Cole stood on the steps of the courthouse. He checked his Patek Philippe watch for the tenth time.
“She’s not coming,” Alycia called from the backseat of the limousine idling at the curb. She rolled the window down. “I told you, Cole. She’s playing games. She wants to watch you wait p>
Cole ignored her. He kept scanning the crowd.
“Lawrence,” he said to his lawyer. “Call her again p>
“Straight to voicemail, sir. I believe — it appears I’ve been blocked as well p>
Cole’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.
She had blocked him. And now she was a no-show.
“She’s mocking me,” Cole said, his voice dropping to something low and controlled and dangerous. “She tore up the check, made a speech about her dignity, and then she doesn’t even appear. She’s laughing at me p>
“Sir, we can file for a default judgment,” Lawrence offered carefully. “Though it would take several months p>
“Do it,” Cole said. “And file the injunction against Apex. If she wants a war, she gets nuclear winter p>
Two blocks away, June stumbled.
She caught herself against a lamppost, both hands gripping the cold metal as the world revolved around her. I can’t —
She took one more step.
Her knee buckled.
She hit the concrete hard. Her purse flew open on impact. A folded, grainy photograph slid out and landed face-up in a shallow puddle of dirty water — an ultrasound image, the clinical text at the top stark and unambiguous: Ectopic. Ruptured.
“Hey! Miss!” A pedestrian stopped short. “Oh my God, she’s unconscious p>
“Call 911 p>
June lay on the sidewalk. The white suit was turning gray against the wet concrete. Her eyes were closed. Her breath came in shallow, rattling intervals.
In the distance, a siren began to wail.
Cole dropped into the back of the limousine and pulled the door shut.
“Drive,” he said.
“Where to, sir p>
“The office. I have a company to bury p>
The limo eased away from the curb and merged into traffic.