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Chapter 393
Chapter 393:
Brogan watched her. He watched her straighten the old man’s blanket. While Cole was in the basement using his wealth to destroy, June was using her skill and her heart to heal.
Old Mr. Clements clapped his hands together in delight.
“Good girl!” the old man declared, pointing a trembling finger at June. “You are coming to the estate for dinner tonight! I am having the chef prepare his signature Beef Wellington to properly welcome you p>
Brogan looked at June. His eyes held a deep, silent apology for his grandfather’s pushiness — but beneath the apology burned a desperate hope that she would say yes.
June looked at the old man’s excited face. She could not bring herself to break his heart.
𝖶e𝗲kl𝘆 𝗿е𝘭еaѕeѕ 𝘰𝘯
She gave a small nod. “I would love to p>
Down in the hospital lobby, Cole hung up his phone.
A dark, cruel smile twisted his lips. He could already picture it — Apex Bio’s funding drying up, June desperate and broken, crawling back to him to beg for mercy.
He had absolutely no idea that his billion-dollar trap was closing around empty air.
The massive iron gates of the Clements family estate slowly swung open.
Brogan drove his dark green Range Rover up the long, winding gravel driveway, the tires crunching softly against the stones.
June sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window. The estate occupied prime waterfront on Long Island — a sprawling, ancient stone mansion covered in thick green ivy. It radiated the quiet, immovable power of old money, the exact opposite of Cole’s hyper-modern, aggressive glass-and-steel penthouse.
They helped Old Mr. Clements inside. The old man was in extraordinarily high spirits, acting as a tour guide, pointing out centuries-old oil paintings and antique vases to June as they made their way to the dining room.
The dinner was warm and unhurried.
They sat at a long, polished oak table with no hovering servants. It felt like a real, intimate family dinner. Brogan sat beside June and quietly, meticulously cut her portion of the Beef Wellington into small, bite-sized pieces, knowing her left arm was completely useless in the sling. His eyes were soft, full of unspoken devotion, and June had to look away to keep her cheeks from flushing.
As she reached across the table with her right hand to pick up her crystal wine glass, the heavy medical boot on her foot caught the leg of the oak chair.
She lost her balance for a fraction of a second. Her hand jerked.
The dark red wine sloshed violently over the rim of the glass and splashed directly onto the lap of her light grey dress, leaving a massive, dark, unmistakable stain.
June gasped, her face flushing with embarrassment.
Brogan immediately stood up, grabbing a cloth napkin.
“I am so sorry,” June stammered, trying to dab at the stain.
Brogan calmly pressed a button beneath the edge of the dining table. Within ten seconds, the estate’s elderly butler appeared in the doorway.
“Please take the Madam to the guest suite,” Brogan instructed, his voice steady. “Show her to the wardrobe p>
The word Madam slipped out so naturally.