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Chapter 596
Chapter 596:
In his obsession, he had believed that proving his power would draw her closer. He had not understood, until this moment, that it had done exactly the opposite — and that the thing he had destroyed in the process was the only thing he had ever genuinely wanted.
For thirty agonizing minutes, the top-floor office of the Love Group was a tomb.
Crawford remained slumped in his chair, both hands covering his face. The bruise along his jaw throbbed. It was nothing. The sensation tearing through his chest was something else entirely — structural, like something load-bearing had given way.
June’s words cycled through his skull without stopping. I am not a human being. I am just a shiny object.
A timid knock broke the silence.
His chief of staff pushed the glass door open by a few inches, sweating visibly, a bright red emergency tablet clutched in both hands.
у𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗻e𝘹𝘵 𝖿𝘢v𝘰𝗋𝗶𝘁е 𝗋𝖾𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝗌 𝗼ո ѕ.𝖼𝘰m
“Sir,” the man said, his voice barely holding together. “The Compton Group just mobilized a massive offshore liquidity pool. They are initiating a scorched-earth short-selling attack across our entire media portfolio. If we don’t authorize a counter-strike in the next sixty seconds, we lose five billion dollars before lunch p>
He swallowed. “I need your authorization p>
Crawford lowered his hands slowly.
His eyes, usually burning with cold, focused ambition, were completely hollow. Whatever fire had lived there was out.
He looked at the red tablet. If he fought back, the war would escalate further. The market would continue to burn. And June would look at him — whenever she thought of him at all — with that same freezing contempt. She would disappear entirely, permanently, to put distance between herself and everything he represented.
He couldn’t lose her completely. Even if he couldn’t have her, he refused to be the reason she vanished.
Crawford drew a long, ragged breath.
“Flatten the positions,” he said. His voice came out hoarse and hollow.
The assistant blinked. “Sir? The counter-attack p>
“Flatten the positions!” Crawford’s fist came down on the desk. “Withdraw all capital. Cancel every short order against Compton. Issue a press release — we are unilaterally ceasing all hostile market actions. Do it now p>
The assistant stared at him, jaw slack, then turned and sprinted from the room.
Two miles away, in the Compton Group’s high-tech trading floor, Cole stood before a wall of digital monitors, the red and green chart lines reflected in his bloodshot eyes. He looked like something that hadn’t slept or eaten in days and had stopped noticing.
Davis, his chief legal counsel, arrived at his side with a sealed manila folder held at arm’s length, as though it might go off.
“Mr. Compton. The whistleblower packet for the SEC. Love Group’s illegal shell company transfers — all of it documented and verified. The moment you give the word, federal agents move on their offices p>
Cole reached for the folder.
A collective gasp erupted across the trading floor.
“Sir!” the head trader shouted, pointing at the central screen. “Love Group is dumping their short positions! They’re taking a massive loss and pulling out completely. They’ve stopped fighting p>
Cole’s hand froze.