Chapter 34
Chapter 34:
A blinding white light exploded from the bushes across the sidewalk.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
“Over here, June! Is this the new boyfriend p>
“Easton! Any comment on the divorce p>
Paparazzi.
𝘚a𝘷e 𝘺оu𝗿 𝗳аvо𝗿𝘪𝗍е no𝘃𝘦𝗹s 𝗼n
June flinched, raising a hand to shield her eyes.
Cole stepped out of the bar behind them. He took in the scene in an instant — the camera lights, Easton’s coat across June’s shoulders, Easton’s arm moving to her waist to guide her through the surge of photographers.
It looked intimate. It looked protective.
It looked like everything Cole had failed to be.
“Get that camera out of her face!” Easton snapped at the nearest photographer, shoving a lens to the side.
He opened the door of his town car and guided June inside.
Cole stood at the top of the steps and watched. Alycia appeared beside him, her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk.
“Well,” Alycia said. “That’s going to make a lovely spread on Page Six tomorrow. ‘The grieving ex-wife moves on in record time p>
Cole felt a vein pulse in his temple.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Victor, his PR manager.
“You’ve seen the photos coming out tonight?” Cole asked.
“Yes, sir. They’re already trending p>
“Spin it,” Cole said. His voice was flat and hollow. “She’s been seeing him for months. That’s why the marriage ended. Make her the villain p>
“Sir, are you certain? Once we go that route, it’s p>
“Do it,” Cole said. “If she wants to wear another man’s coat, she can carry his reputation too p>
He ended the call.
He watched Easton’s car pull away into the stream of city lights and disappear.
He told himself he felt like a man in control. He told himself this was managing the narrative — a necessary, strategic move.
But somewhere beneath all of it, he already knew the truth. He was not trying to protect his reputation. He was trying to destroy the image of June being happy without him.
Thursday morning.
The headlines were brutal.
NY Post: COMPTON CUCKOLD? EX-WIFE CAUGHT WITH LEGAL SHARK.
Daily Mail: The $100 Million Affair: Did June Erickson Fake Her Illness?
June sat in her new, empty apartment, scrolling through the articles on her phone. They called her a gold digger. A liar. An adulteress.
Her bank accounts were frozen. Her credit was flagged. Her name was ash.
She set the phone down.
She walked to the window. The sun was rising over the East River, indifferent and bright.
“Is that the best you can do, Cole?” she whispered.
She went to the closet and took out a suit. Not the white one — that was ruined. She chose red. Blood red.
She dressed deliberately. Sharp eyeliner, bold lip. War paint.
She did not go to Apex. She had already solved their crisis. Today was about her own.
She took a cab to a sterile office building in Midtown. Easton’s office. When she walked through the lobby, the receptionist’s eyes widened. Everyone had seen the papers. Everyone was whispering.