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Chapter 756:
Cole sat in the backseat, holding June tightly against his chest. Her body was burning, her skin so hot it felt as though it were searing through his shirt. He pulled out his phone and dialed the private number of the president of Presbyterian Hospital.
“Clear the entire VIP emergency wing,” he barked, his voice raw with a barely contained fury that made the driver flinch. “Get every top pulmonologist you have on standby. If she dies, every single one of you is finished p>
He hung up without waiting for a response and pressed his forehead against June’s. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, her lips faintly blue.
“Hold on,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please, June. Just hold on p>
On the other side of Long Island, the Beasley mansion loomed in the pouring rain.
Alicia pushed open the heavy oak door, dripping wet. Her hair was plastered to her face, her Chanel dress clinging to her body. The foyer was dark and empty—no lights, no butler, no maids.
The house was silent. Dead silent.
Except for a faint yellow glow coming from the master bedroom at the end of the second-floor hallway.
Alicia kicked off her soaked heels, her bare feet hitting the cold marble floor. She was exhausted. Humiliated. She had spent the last three hours begging her former best friends for a loan, and they had laughed in her face. Told her she was a has-been. Told her the Beasley name was worthless now.
She dragged herself up the stairs, her legs heavy. She just wanted to crawl into her mother’s bed and cry.
But as she neared the master bedroom, she heard it.
𝘛𝗁e 𝗆𝗈ѕ𝗍 𝘱𝗼𝗉𝗎𝗅𝘢𝗿 𝗇𝘰𝗏𝘦l𝗌 о𝗇
Moans. Loud, breathless moans. A man’s grunting. Lewd, disgusting laughter.
Alicia froze.
That was her mother’s bedroom. Her mother, who was in jail, awaiting trial for embezzlement.
Her blood turned to ice.
She reached out, grabbed the doorknob, and threw the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
The sight that greeted her burned itself into her retinas forever.
Her father, Richard Beasley, was on top of a blonde woman. They were tangled together on Susan’s custom-made king-sized bed—the bed that had cost over a hundred thousand dollars. The bed her mother had slept in every night for twenty years.
And the woman.
Alicia recognized her immediately.
Lexi. The high-end escort June had paid to approach Richard at The Velvet Room the night before.
The slamming door startled them both. Richard’s head snapped around, his eyes wide with panic. Lexi let out a dramatic scream and yanked the covers up to her chest.
Alicia stood in the doorway, her whole body shaking.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed, her voice cracking. “You animal. That’s Mom’s bed p>
Richard’s embarrassment faded quickly, replaced by the familiar, selfish anger that had defined him his entire life. The alcohol he’d been drinking all afternoon had stripped away any last shred of decency.
He grabbed a bathrobe from the floor, wrapped it around himself, and stormed toward Alicia, jabbing his finger in her face. “Who the hell do you think you are, barging in without knocking? This is my house. I can do whatever I want in it p>