Chapter 253
Chapter 253:
The air in the room seemed to stop moving entirely. Crawford’s chest rose and fell in a slow, heavy rhythm, his gaze dropping involuntarily to her lips.
The moment stretched to its absolute breaking point.
Then a loud, obnoxious electronic ringing tore through the silence. A FaceTime call lit up Crawford’s phone on the coffee table between them.
The shrill ringing of the FaceTime call hit like a bucket of ice water.
June drew a sharp breath, her eyes widening. She scrambled backward immediately, breaking the intense proximity between them, pulling the collar of her robe tighter around her neck as a flush crept up her skin.
Crawford closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. A dark, violent wave of frustration moved across his face. He let out a slow, controlled exhale through his nose.
𝘛𝗵e 𝖻𝖾𝘴𝘵 𝗿e𝘃ie𝘸ѕ оn
Without a word, he stood, walked to the coffee table, and picked up his phone. The caller ID read Julian Thorne — the loud, obnoxious billionaire heir who ran in Cole’s social circle. Just before the call connected, a text from the same number flashed on the screen: Got intel on Beasley’s offshore accounts. You’ll want to see this. Video call in 2.
It was the only reason Crawford didn’t reject it outright. The Beasley family was the financial engine behind Alycia, and dismantling them was a key strategic objective.
Three hundred miles away in New York City, inside the subterranean VIP room of the Vault nightclub, heavy bass vibrated through the floorboards and the lighting cast everything in a deep, sinister red.
Cole sat slumped in a leather booth surrounded by empty whiskey glasses, his eyes bloodshot and his face a mask of suicidal depression. Julian sat beside him, thoroughly drunk, holding his phone up and laughing too loudly at something only he found amusing.
Back in Boston, Crawford swiped to accept the call with cold, strategic calm.
His face appeared on Julian’s screen — composed, clearly wearing silk pajamas, the luxurious Boston hotel suite visible in the background.
“Hey, man!” Julian yelled over the club music, his words slurring together. “How’s the rainy weather in Boston? You hiding a model in that suite with you p>
Crawford’s expression hardened into pure disgust. “Cut it, Julian,” he said sharply. “You have sixty seconds to show me something of value before I block this number permanently p>
Cole wasn’t paying attention. He sat staring blankly at his own hands, submerged in his guilt.
Then the unthinkable happened.
In Boston, June rose from the floor, clutching her tablet, still composed despite the flush lingering on her skin.
“Crawford,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “I’m heading back to my room. We can run the simulation in the morning p>
That single sentence traveled through Crawford’s microphone and out of Julian’s speaker directly into the nightclub.
Cole’s entire body went rigid.
The whiskey glass tilted in his hand. Amber liquid spilled across his expensive trousers. He didn’t notice. His pupils dilated so violently they nearly swallowed his irises. His heart stopped in his chest.
That was June’s voice.
He would have recognized the cadence of it anywhere.