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Chapter 517
Chapter 517:
Within ten minutes of the opening bell, the Beasley enterprise stock collapsed. The line on the graph dropped vertically, triggering the first automatic market circuit breaker. Trading was halted.
The chief of staff stared at the catastrophic data on the main screen. “Mr. Love,” he said carefully. “We’ve hit the circuit breaker. Do you want to take profit and close the position p>
Crawford drained the rest of his whiskey.
“No,” he said, his voice as cold as the glass in his hand. “Keep pushing. Don’t stop until they are delisted from the exchange p>
At that same moment, inside a temporary holding cell at Rikers Island, the air smelled of bleach and sweat.
Richard Beasley’s defense attorney rushed into the visitor area, his suit wrinkled and damp with perspiration.
“Richard,” the lawyer gasped, gripping the metal bars. “The judge denied bail. The DA is pushing for maximum sentencing p>
Richard seized the bars, his hands shaking violently. “What about the company? Use the company funds to pay the bondsman p>
The lawyer looked at the floor. “There are no funds. The stock just flash-crashed. Eighty percent of your market capitalization evaporated in ten minutes. The banks are calling in your loans p>
Richard’s eyes went blank.
His knees buckled. He collapsed onto the freezing concrete floor of the cell, unconscious.
𝘉𝖾 р𝗮𝗿𝗍 𝘰𝗳 𝗈𝘂𝘳 соm𝗺𝘂𝗇𝗶𝘵𝘆 o𝗇 ѕ.𝘤𝗈m
Susan saw him fall from the adjacent cell. She threw herself against the bars.
“Help him!” she screamed, slapping her palms against the cold metal. “Somebody help us p>
The guards at the end of the hall looked over with blank, utterly indifferent expressions. No one moved.
Back on the Upper East Side, June walked into her penthouse apartment.
She dropped her keys on the counter. Easton moved into the kitchen, poured her a glass of warm water, and handed it to her. June took a sip, walked to the living room, and switched on her Bloomberg financial terminal.
She stared at the screen. The Beasley enterprise stock chart looked like a cliff face.
June frowned. She understood market mechanics well enough to know that her canceled contracts alone could not account for this.
“This isn’t just retail panic,” she said quietly. “There is an enormous amount of capital deliberately shorting them. Someone is pushing them into the grave p>
The volume of the sell orders was astronomical — far beyond what any normal hedge fund would risk on a mid-sized company.
Easton stood behind her, studying the red numbers scrolling across the screen. The muscles in his jaw tightened slightly. He had noticed the third-party intervention too.
June turned her head and looked at him.
“This ruthless, scorched-earth approach,” she murmured, her brow furrowing as she studied the terminal. “It looks exactly like Crawford Love’s signature. He doesn’t calculate the cost — only the destruction p>
Easton crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful and dark. “It’s highly probable. Though we can’t rule out other predators on Wall Street looking to take a bite out of Cole’s extended network.” He paused. “Still, Crawford is the prime suspect p>
Inside the Love Group trading room, the noise was deafening.