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Chapter 394
Chapter 394:
June’s ears burned. She glanced at Brogan, but he did not correct the butler — he only offered her a gentle, reassuring smile.
June followed the butler to the base of a grand, sweeping staircase. Each step was a carefully calculated, agonizing movement. She had to plant her crutch firmly, using her one good arm to hoist her body weight before bringing her booted foot up to the same level. The strain sent a dull, throbbing ache through her collarbone, and by the time she reached the top of the long, quiet hallway, a thin sheen of cold sweat had formed on her forehead.
The butler opened a heavy mahogany door, revealing a beautifully lit guest bedroom.
“The clothing is in here, Madam,” the butler said, gesturing toward a set of double doors on the far side of the room. He bowed quietly and stepped out, closing the door behind him.
June walked across the thick Persian rug and pulled the double doors open.
She stepped inside.
The breath left her lungs completely. Her heart stopped dead in her chest.
This was not a closet. It was a massive, custom-built walk-in wardrobe that looked exactly like the VIP fitting room of a Parisian luxury boutique.
The room was lined with glowing glass cabinets and perfectly spaced velvet hangers.
And every single hanger was full.
There were dozens of dresses — Chanel tweed suits, Dior evening gowns, casual cashmere sweaters, silk blouses. June walked slowly forward, her hand trembling as she reached out and touched the sleeve of a brand-new Valentino dress. The tag was still attached. It was from the current season.
Poр𝗎l𝗮r 𝗌𝘁о𝗋i𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗻 ѕ.co𝘮
She looked at the size tag.
US Size 2.
She moved to the next dress. US Size 2.
She checked the shoes lined up perfectly on the bottom shelves. Size 7.
Every single piece of clothing, every single pair of shoes in this multi-million-dollar room was exactly her size. And every piece perfectly matched her specific, understated aesthetic.
These clothes were not a random assortment. June’s stomach dropped. She recalled that just a few months ago, as the new co-CEO of Apex Bio, Brogan had arranged for a high-end tailor to create custom corporate attire for the entire executive team. They had taken everyone’s precise measurements. He must have kept a copy of her file — using that professional pretext to quietly, meticulously curate this entire collection.
This room was a silent, terrifyingly expensive museum. He had been filling it for a woman he had been waiting for in absolute silence.
June stood in the center of the wardrobe, feeling as though she had just kicked open the door to Brogan’s most private, vulnerable soul.
Then she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her.
She spun around.
Brogan was standing in the doorway.
The moment he saw June holding the Valentino dress, the blood rushed to his face so violently that his neck and ears turned a dark, burning red.
The calm, collected billionaire CEO vanished entirely.
He looked exactly like a boy who had just been caught reading a stolen diary.