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Chapter 616
Chapter 616:
“I want you to unblock my number.” His voice was quiet, controlled, the voice of a man who had rehearsed this a hundred times. “I want one way to reach you. One line of communication. That’s all p>
June stared at him.
“You’re threatening the entire company. The jobs of four hundred people. The research that could save millions of lives.” She tilted her head. “For a phone number p>
“For a chance.” His jaw tightened. “For the chance to prove that I can be different. That I can learn. That I’m not—” He stopped. Swallowed. “That I’m not the man you think I am p>
Brogan appeared in the doorway, his face dark with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.
“June, don’t — this is extortion. We can fight this. The board will p>
“It’s fine, Brogan.” Her voice was calm. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and unlocked it. She navigated to her blocked contacts list and found Cole’s entry — labeled simply with a “C,” no photo, no special ringtone, just a letter in a list of silenced names. She tapped the unblock button and turned the screen toward Cole.
𝘉𝘦 pа𝘳𝗍 𝘰𝘧 𝗼𝘶𝗋 сom𝗺𝘂𝘯𝗶𝘁у 𝗼𝗻
“There p>
He looked at the screen. His name, no longer red, no longer barred. Just another contact in her phone.
Something flickered in his eyes — relief, she thought, or perhaps satisfaction. The petty victory of a man who had learned to take whatever crumbs he could get.
“Thank you.” The words were barely audible.
He turned to his legal team and made a small gesture. They began to pack up. Documents returned to briefcases. Tablets went dark. Within three minutes, they were gone.
Cole lingered in the doorway.
“I’ll drive you home. My car is p>
“I have a car p>
“I know. But it’s cold. And you worked late last night. And I thought p>
“You thought wrong p>
She walked past him, through the lobby and out into the December morning.
The wind hit her like a physical blow, carrying the scent of snow and exhaust and the distant harbor. She pulled her coat tighter, her fingers finding the collar and drawing it up around her neck.
Cole followed her. His Maybach sat at the curb, engine running, the interior glowing with warmth and soft leather and the quiet hum of climate control. The rear door stood open, the driver’s eyes carefully fixed on the middle distance.
“Get in, June.” Cole’s voice had changed — harder now, the begging gone, replaced by something more familiar. More dangerous. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s freezing p>
She stopped at the curb.
She looked at the car. At the warmth inside. At the man who stood beside it, hand extended, his face a mask of entitlement and desperation and the absolute certainty that eventually, somehow, she would yield.
She pulled out her phone, opened her preferred car service app, and typed in her address. Estimated arrival: four minutes.
She stood on the sidewalk, hands in her pockets, breath visible in the cold air, and she waited.
Cole stared at her.
“You’re serious.” His voice was hollow. “You’d rather stand in the freezing cold than p>
“Yes p>
The word was final. Absolute.