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Chapter 641
Chapter 641:
“He’s still there,” the captain said, unnecessarily.
Crawford looked at the ink on his floor. At the images of June walking into the night with another man. And not leaving.
“Get out,” he said.
The captain fled.
Crawford stood and walked to the window. Forty stories below, Fifth Avenue crawled with taxis and delivery trucks and the endless, indifferent motion of a city that didn’t care who loved whom, who bled for whom, who burned.
𝘙𝖾𝗮d fr𝗲𝖾 𝗻𝘰𝘷𝗲𝗅𝘀 𝘰𝗇
He had sent his men to protect her. To watch her. To keep her safe.
Instead, they had watched her choose.
His hand opened. The broken pen fell, bounced once on the carpet, and lay still.
“Easton Hahn,” he said to the empty room. “You think you’ve won p>
He reached for his phone and dialed a number from memory.
“Julian,” he said when the call connected. “The Compton situation. I want everything — every mistake, every secret, every skeleton.” He paused, watching a cloud shadow sweep across Central Park. “We’re going to give Cole Compton exactly what he needs to burn his own life down p>
He ended the call. Then he picked up the tablet again and stared at the image of the parked Aston Martin.
“She’ll come back,” he whispered. “They always come back p>
But his voice lacked conviction. And in the silence of his office, surrounded by the trappings of a lifetime spent accumulating power, Crawford Love felt something he had never experienced before — the cold, precise sensation of having already lost.
Across the city, in the Compton Tower boardroom, Eleanor Compton slammed a leather portfolio onto the mahogany table.
The sound echoed off the glass walls. Twelve board members flinched. Cole Compton didn’t move.
He sat at the far end of the table, his tie loosened, his eyes fixed on nothing. His right hand was bandaged — burns from the Hamptons fire, wounds earned saving a woman who had thanked him with the same politeness she would offer a stranger holding a door.
“Look at me,” Eleanor commanded.
Cole’s head turned slowly. His eyes were red-rimmed and sunken, the eyes of a man who hadn’t slept in days.
“You’re a disgrace,” Eleanor said, her voice carrying the weight of eighty-three years of Compton family history. “The Beasley scandal. The financial irregularities. The three hundred million dollar hostile takeover of a biotech firm simply to force a woman to unblock your phone number p>
Cole’s jaw tightened. “Grandmother p>
“Silence.” She opened the portfolio and withdrew a document bound in royal blue leather. “The board has made a decision. You will marry Her Serene Highness, Duchess Marguerite of Monaco. The wedding will take place in six weeks. The announcement will be made tomorrow p>
She slid the document across the table. It stopped inches from Cole’s bandaged hand.
He didn’t touch it.
“No p>
The word was quiet. Absolute.
Eleanor’s eyebrows rose. “No p>