If you are looking for While I Was Bleeding Out He Lit Lanterns For Her Chapter 1 read online…
Chapter 350
Chapter 350:
She watched with cold, calculating eyes as four staff members moved with frantic speed, their gazes carefully fixed on their tasks, refusing to make eye contact with each other or with the silent woman watching them. The air was thick with unspoken tension. They pulled her designer dresses, her coats, and her shoes out of the massive walk-in closet and packed them into heavy canvas bins. They cleared the vanity of her skincare serums and perfumes, and swept the heavy medical textbooks from her nightstand into boxes. A maid emerged from the en-suite bathroom carrying June’s toothbrush and her specific brand of shampoo.
Within a single hour, the room was completely, brutally sterilized.
Every trace of June’s existence — her scent, her habits, her life — had been ripped from the space. The master bedroom was now vast, immaculate, and suffocatingly empty. It looked like a hotel room awaiting a stranger. It was as if June had never breathed the air in this room.
June looked at the empty shelves. She felt no nostalgia. She turned on her heel and walked out without a second glance.
She walked down the long, silent hallway to the furthest guest room — a small, isolated space usually reserved for the most distant and unimportant of relatives.
𝗪𝗵а𝘵 𝘦𝘃𝗲𝘳𝘆𝗼𝗇e 𝗶𝘀 r𝖾𝗮𝖽𝗂𝗇g 𝗼𝗻.со𝗆
Two private security technicians were already packing up their tools.
Per June’s orders, they had removed the standard brass door handle entirely. In its place stood a heavy, matte-black, military-grade biometric deadbolt.
“It is coded exclusively to your fingerprints and retina, Ms. Erickson,” the lead technician reported. “No one else can open this door p>
“Thank you. Leave,” June said.
The moment the technicians disappeared down the hall, June stepped into the small guest room, grabbed the heavy wooden door, and slammed it shut.
She reached up and engaged the thick steel manual slide-bolt.
Clack.
The sharp, heavy sound of metal locking into place echoed in the small room. It was the absolute, physical declaration of the death of her marriage.
June dropped her coat on the small chair. She walked into the cramped bathroom and turned the shower handle all the way to hot.
She stepped under the spray. The scalding water hit her skin like liquid fire. She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cold tile.
She grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed her skin until it turned a bright, angry red — scrubbing away every microscopic particle of the Compton family’s toxic, suffocating stench.
When she finally stepped out, the bathroom was thick with steam.
She dried off and changed into a pair of thick cotton pajamas. She sat on the edge of the narrow, stiff mattress, picked up her phone, and drafted a highly encrypted message to Easton Hahn, her attorney.
Accelerate the divorce filing. I want the papers served immediately. No delays.
She hit send, reached over, and clicked off the bedside lamp.
The small room plunged into pitch-black darkness. June pulled the thin blanket up to her chin and curled into a tight ball. For the first time in four years, lying in this tiny, isolated space, she felt a profound, genuine sense of safety. The room was completely hers.
Outside the skyscraper, the Manhattan skyline glittered with millions of cold, indifferent lights.
An hour later, the heavy front doors of the penthouse clicked open.
Cole stepped into the dark foyer, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, his tie pulled loose. The sharp scent of expensive whiskey and profound exhaustion rolled off him in waves.