Chapter 36
Chapter 36:
June walked up the long, manicured driveway and slipped into the east wing corridor, bypassing the main living areas entirely. Her target was the study.
She pushed open the heavy oak doors. The room smelled of expensive leather and Cole’s cedarwood cologne. Her stomach contracted at the scent, but she kept moving.
She went straight to the private server rack concealed behind the mahogany desk, pulled a small encrypted USB drive from her pocket, and inserted it into the port. Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard. She typed in the backdoor password she had memorized three years ago. The screen blinked. A progress bar appeared.
Ten percent. Fifteen percent.
June stared at the screen, her breathing shallow and controlled.
𝗟a𝘁𝘦𝘴𝗍 с𝗵𝗮𝘱𝘵𝖾𝘳s 𝗈𝗻.с𝘰𝗆
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The heavy, rhythmic sound of a wooden cane striking marble echoed from the hallway.
June went still. The bar hit twenty percent.
She turned her head just as Eleanor Compton appeared in the doorway — the eighty-year-old matriarch, her face ashen, her hands trembling violently. In her left hand she gripped a crumpled copy of the morning’s New York Post. The headline was visible from across the room: COMPTON CUCKOLD? EX-WIFE CAUGHT WITH LEGAL SHARK.
Eleanor did not mention the newspaper. Instead, she raised her shaking right hand and threw a thick manila folder onto the mahogany desk. A copy of the default judgment motion. Cole’s divorce papers.
Eleanor’s chest heaved. Her trembling finger pointed at the documents.
“June,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “What is the meaning of this? What has my grandson done p>
June looked at the old woman. Eleanor was the only person in this house who had ever treated her with genuine warmth.
June pulled the USB drive from the server and slipped it into her pocket.
“He had his lawyers serve me with a subpoena, Eleanor,” June said. Her voice was completely level. “They delivered it while I was in the ICU p>
Eleanor’s eyes widened. The color drained entirely from her face, leaving her skin looking like translucent parchment.
“The — the ICU?” Eleanor whispered.
She swayed on her feet.
“He promised me,” Eleanor muttered, her voice dropping to something barely audible. “He swore on his father’s grave that he would take care of you. He swore it p>
The betrayal struck the old woman like something physical.
Eleanor let out a sharp, sudden gasp. She dropped the newspaper. Her hand flew to her chest, clutching the fabric of her blouse directly over her heart.
The wooden cane clattered against the hardwood floor.
Eleanor’s knees gave way.
“Eleanor!” June screamed.
She lunged forward and caught the old woman an instant before her head could strike the corner of the desk. The sudden, violent movement sent a searing, tearing pain through June’s abdomen. Her internal stitches ripped.
June let out a strangled cry but did not let go. She lowered Eleanor carefully onto the Persian rug.
Eleanor’s lips were already turning a frightening shade of blue. Her breathing came in shallow, wet gasps. June’s medical instincts overrode her panic in an instant. She tore open the top buttons of Eleanor’s blouse to clear her airway.