Chapter 4
Chapter 4:
Five days passed. Five days of forced bed rest, transfusions, and whispered consultations with doctors who regarded her with a mixture of pity and quiet alarm. On the fifth afternoon, the heavy curtains of the VIP room were drawn back, letting the sunlight spill across the floor in long, warm ribbons.
June’s color had returned slightly. She was sitting up in bed, watching Vera peel an apple with a small paring knife.
Then Vera stopped. The knife hovered motionless over the fruit. She was staring at her phone on the table, her face draining to a sickly pale.
June noticed the shift immediately. “What is it? Is it him again p>
Vera hesitated, biting her lower lip. Slowly, she picked up the phone and held it out.
The headline on the financial news app was bold and impossible to miss: Cole Compton Pledges $10 Million to Establish the ‘Alycia Beasley Medical Wing p>
June’s eyes moved through the article. The text celebrated Alycia as a “rising star in the medical field” and praised the donation as funding for her groundbreaking research on neuro-blockers. Below the text was a photograph of Alycia in a pristine white lab coat, standing behind a podium with a rehearsed, humble smile. Cole stood beside her, applauding.
A wave of acute nausea rolled through June’s stomach.
𝗦𝗁a𝗿𝘦 y𝗈𝘂r 𝗍𝗵𝘰𝗎𝗀h𝘁s о𝗇 𝗀𝗮𝘭ո𝗼𝗏e𝗹ѕ.𝗰𝗈m
Alycia’s “groundbreaking research” was a fabrication. It was a direct plagiarism of an unpublished thesis June had written at the age of twenty — work Alycia had stolen during a visit to the Compton estate.
June’s fingers traced the edge of the phone. The last remaining thread of her patience snapped cleanly.
Cole was prepared to throw ten million dollars at his mistress to purchase her a counterfeit reputation, yet for four years he had confined June to a meager allowance, scrutinizing every grocery bill she paid.
June handed the phone back to Vera. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. “I’m checking out p>
Vera dropped the apple. “Are you crazy? The doctor said you need at least another full week of bed rest p>
June threw the blanket off her legs and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “I’ve been rotting in this room for almost a week. I have work to do p>
Despite Vera’s protests, June signed the discharge papers against medical advice.
As they crossed the hospital lobby, the large overhead televisions broadcast a live feed of the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new medical wing. Cole was at the microphone, his voice echoing through the marble space.
“Alycia’s brilliance deserves to be seen by the world,” Cole said, gazing at her with unmistakable admiration. “This is just the beginning p>
June stood near the pharmacy counter, wearing large dark sunglasses, watching the screen in silence.
A young nurse standing nearby let out a wistful sigh. “Mr. Compton is so generous to his girlfriend. His ex-wife must be kicking herself for losing him p>
Vera lunged forward, ready to say something sharp, but June caught her arm with a grip that was surprisingly firm.
“Not now,” June murmured, steering her toward the exit. “Let them climb a little higher. The fall will break their necks p>
They pushed through the revolving doors. The crisp New York air met them, carrying the familiar bite of exhaust and money.
June turned to Vera. “Take me to the bank p>
“Which one?” Vera asked, pulling out her keys. “The one near the estate p>
“No,” June said flatly. “UBS. The private wealth management branch on Wall Street p>
Vera stopped walking. She turned to stare at June. “UBS? June, you need a minimum of ten million in liquid assets just to walk through that door p>
The corner of June’s mouth curved upward into a cold, precise smile. “I have an appointment p>
Vera drove the Porsche downtown in stunned silence. June stared out the passenger window as the towering skyscrapers of the financial district rose to swallow the sky. She thought about the patent she had registered at twenty. The drug that had transformed nerve pain treatment. She had concealed her identity to protect herself, and later — after the wedding — to protect Cole’s fragile ego.
He believed she was a useless trophy wife who could not survive without his credit cards. He had no idea she was the bank.
The Porsche pulled up to the imposing, fortress-like entrance of the UBS building. June stepped out of the car and adjusted the collar of her simple black coat. She wore no designer label. She needed none. Her posture had already said everything — the submissive slouch was gone, replaced by something quiet and absolute.
She glanced back at Vera, who stood staring up at the building with wide eyes.
“Ready to be surprised?” June asked.