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Chapter 678:

“Drive safely tonight.” The words escaped before she could stop them, a whisper of vulnerability she immediately wanted to retract. “The roads. They’re p>

“I will.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you at seven p>

She ended the call and sat in the silence of her office. She let herself feel, for just a moment, the dangerous warmth of gratitude, of trust, of something that might—if she allowed it—become happiness.

Then she straightened her shoulders and returned to her team. There was work to do. There was always work to do.

But for the first time in years, the work felt like it might actually be enough.

The FBI agents arrived at 6:00 AM, presenting badges and a warrant that authorized them to seize passports, electronic devices, and any documents related to offshore financial holdings.

The Beasley family had run out of options. Their lawyer had advised them to sacrifice one person to take the fall for all the charges, thereby sparing the others from prison—and clearly, no one in the family was willing to do so.

Alycia still refused to give up. She paced nervously, biting her fingernails, then looked down at her abdomen and made up her mind.

Using an emergency card to rent a nondescript sedan and paying cash for the deposit, Alycia Beasley drove south on I-95, the car’s engine purring beneath her, the Hamptons drawing closer with every mile.

She had not planned this. She had not planned anything, not really, since the moment her father’s glass had connected with her abdomen and sent her to the hospital with real pain to accompany her manufactured tragedy. She had been reacting ever since—improvising, scrambling to stay ahead of the collapse.

But now, with the FBI raiding her parents’ apartment and her own future uncertain, Alycia found herself with only one move left. Only one person who might still be manipulated. Only one lever that might yet shift the weight of disaster.

𝗔𝗱𝖽𝘪𝗰𝘵𝗂ve 𝘯𝗈𝘃𝗲𝘭ѕ 𝗈𝗻

Eleanor Compton.

The old woman hated her. That much was clear. The DNA test, the public humiliation, the cold dismissal—Alycia had no illusions about her standing with the Compton matriarch. But Eleanor had weaknesses. Eleanor had pride. And Eleanor had a grandson who was, by all reports, spiraling into a madness that threatened the family name.

Alycia could use that. She could use Cole’s instability, his obsession with June, his desperate need to believe himself noble. She could position herself as the victim—as the mother of his child, or rather the mother of his lost child, the tragic figure who had suffered miscarriage and hysterectomy and the cruelty of false accusations.

She could make him believe that June had orchestrated everything. The DNA test, the medical records, the systematic destruction of the Beasley family. She could make him believe that his true enemy was not Alycia at all, but the woman who had rejected him, who had humiliated him, who had driven him to the brink of self-destruction.