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Chapter 340
Chapter 340:
Cole released Alycia’s waist and slipped his hands casually into his trouser pockets, offering a slow, arrogant shrug.
“It is not a stunt, Grandma,” Cole replied smoothly. “Alycia saw the listing for this property this morning and fell in love with it. As the heir to the Compton Group — and someone who keeps very close tabs on sudden, massive cash withdrawals from family trusts — I am simply utilizing my corporate privileges to secure a suitable home for my future wife. It is perfectly legal p>
The words “future wife” hit the air like a physical slap.
June sat perfectly still. She looked at Cole’s arrogant face, then at the massive diamond on Alycia’s finger. She felt nothing but a deep, profound exhaustion. It was all so incredibly pathetic.
Old Mrs. Compton struck the floor with her cane again. “I initiated the purchase of this estate first! It belongs to June p>
Cole let out a dark, mocking chuckle.
“Belongs?” Cole repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Did you sign the final escrow documents, Grandma? No. In the world of high finance, until the ink is dry, everything is a variable. And my Priority Review is the ultimate variable p>
He was looking directly at June now. His eyes were black holes of toxic, possessive madness. He was intentionally destroying her sanctuary. If she would not live in his cage, she would not live anywhere.
𝘈𝗰𝘁𝗂𝘷e 𝗰𝗈𝗺𝗆𝘶𝗇і𝘁𝘺 𝗈𝗇 ѕ.𝖼o𝗺
Alycia leaned into Cole’s side and cast a look of pure, venomous triumph at June. She had won. She was taking everything.
Martha Beasley stepped forward, her fake smile stretching across her heavily Botoxed face.
“Now, now, Mrs. Compton,” Martha said, her voice dripping with condescension. “The young couple is so in love. They need a large estate to start their family. You have dozens of properties. Surely you can let this one go for the sake of your grandson’s happiness p>
Cole looked down at June. He took a step closer, his tall frame casting a dark shadow over her.
“June,” Cole said, his voice dropping to a low, desperate growl meant for her ears alone. “Stop fighting me. You cannot leave my world. This house, any house — you will stay where I can see you. You belong to me. You will always belong to me p>
He was gaslighting her in front of everyone, painting her as the greedy, hysterical ex-wife while twisting his sick need for control into a declaration of ownership.
June did not react. She did not yell. She did not cry.
Old Mrs. Compton, however, had reached her absolute limit. The veins in her neck bulged. She had never been so profoundly disrespected in her entire life.
The old woman’s eyes turned into two shards of freezing ice. She stared at her grandson, her voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly calm.
“Very well,” Old Mrs. Compton whispered.
The war had officially begun.
The heavy, suffocating silence in the VIP room was broken only by the ragged, terrified breathing of the Sotheby’s broker.