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Chapter 776:
Mrs. Higgins ushered them to a table, disappearing and returning with warm apple pie and mugs of hot tea. When she set June’s cup down, June noticed that Mrs. Higgins’ left hand was missing the ring and pinky fingers, old, faded scars gathered around the stumps.
June’s eyes stilled. Easton sat beside her and told the story in his quiet, measured voice.
Twelve years ago, Richard Beasley had wanted to develop a luxury real estate project on Long Island. He had used hired muscle to pressure Mrs. Higgins into selling her family’s ancestral land for a fraction of its value. When she refused to sign, Richard’s men had cut off two of her fingers in front of her husband as a warning.
The entire community had been frightened into silence by Richard’s money and reach. No lawyer would take the case. No one would testify.
Until Easton—fresh out of law school—had taken it on, pro bono.
For three years, he and Mrs. Higgins had fought against Richard, enduring death threats and relentless harassment. They had saved her land and sent the two men responsible to prison. But Richard himself had used money and scapegoats to walk free. He had gone on living his life in Manhattan, moving from one victim to the next.
Mrs. Higgins placed her maimed hand gently over June’s. Her eyes held a light that suffering had forged rather than extinguished.
“Capital can break our bones,” she said, smiling. “But as long as we are alive, we will never bow to vampires like him p>
The words struck June like a current moving through still water. She looked at this woman—strong, unhurried, entirely undefeated—and felt something shift in the hollow place inside her chest. For the first time, she understood that what she had spent seven years fighting for was not only her own vengeance.
It was justice. For all of them.
In the warm light of the bakery, June stared down at her cup of steaming tea. Her reflection stared back at her, and she watched color return to her cheeks.
ոo𝘷е𝘭𝗌 𝘪𝗇 𝗍𝗋е𝘯𝘥 on
She looked up at Mrs. Higgins’ maimed hand. Richard’s arrogant, smug face had never seemed more repulsive to her than it did in that moment.
She finally understood. She was not simply destroying the man who had killed her mother. She was dismantling a machine that had ground up the lives of countless innocent people for profit.
She drained her tea—sweetened with honey—in a single swallow. The warmth spread from her throat to her stomach, chasing away the cold that had settled deep in her bones.
June stood and bowed deeply to Mrs. Higgins. “Thank you for sharing your story with me,” she said. “I promise you. The people who owe you blood will pay for what they did. Tonight p>
Mrs. Higgins didn’t know exactly who June was, but she read the steely resolve in her eyes. She smiled and pressed a freshly baked cupcake into June’s hands.
Easton watched from across the table, a quiet pride in his expression as he saw the light return to June’s eyes—harder and sharper than before, but alive.
They said goodbye to Mrs. Higgins and returned to the black Maybach.