[CONTENT TEMPLATE HERE]
Chapter 799:
Cole moved like a black hurricane. He stormed out of headquarters, ignoring the stares of his employees, threw himself into the driver’s seat of the Maybach, and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The heavy car tore through Manhattan traffic, heading straight for the GPS coordinates his assistant had pinged.
Ten minutes later, the Maybach screeched to a halt outside a seedy, run-down hotel in lower Manhattan.
Cole did not bother with the front desk. He took the stairs two at a time, found room 204, lifted his leg, and drove his heel into the cheap wooden door just beside the handle. The wood splintered with a loud crack, the deadbolt tearing clean out of the frame.
The room smelled of stale cigarette smoke and mildew. Alycia was kneeling on the stained carpet, frantically stuffing stacks of hundred-dollar bills into a duffel bag.
𝘑𝘰𝘪𝗻 𝘵h𝗼𝘂𝗌а𝗇dѕ 𝗈f 𝘧𝖺𝗻ѕ 𝗼ո.с𝘰𝗆
She looked up at the sound of the door breaking. When she saw Cole standing in the doorway, his eyes black with murder, she let out a piercing scream. The cash slipped from her hands and scattered across the floor.
Cole did not say a single word. He crossed the small room in three massive strides, reached down, and wrapped his large hand around Alycia’s throat. He lifted her straight off the floor and slammed her back against the peeling wallpaper.
Alycia’s feet kicked at empty air. Her hands flew up, clawing desperately at his iron fingers. Her face began to turn a mottled shade of purple, her eyes bulging with the absolute terror of a trapped animal.
Cole leaned in close, his breath hot and ragged against her face.
“December. Seven years ago,” he growled, his voice vibrating at a low, dangerous frequency. “Where were you p>
Alycia’s pupils dilated. She knew. The deepest, most poisonous lie she had ever told had just exploded in her face.
She tried to speak, forcing a pathetic, squeaking sound through her crushed windpipe. She shook her head, trying to mouth the word Switzerland.
Cole tightened his grip. The cartilage in her neck popped.
“Miami,” he hissed, his teeth bared. “Plastic surgery infection. You never even saw his face, did you p>
The shadow of death fell over Alycia’s eyes. Tears spilled down her purple cheeks. She nodded frantically, her hands slapping weakly at his wrist, begging for air, begging for her life.
A wave of intense, physical disgust washed over Cole. He felt as though he were holding a rotting corpse. He opened his hand and threw her away from him.
Alycia crashed hard onto the floorboards. She curled into a ball, clutching her throat and coughing violently as she sucked greedy lungfuls of the stale hotel air. She looked utterly pathetic.
Cole stood over her, looking down with eyes that held no warmth whatsoever.
“Who taught you to steal her identity?” he asked.
Alycia coughed, spitting onto the carpet. “You did,” she wept, her voice a broken rasp. “You came to my house. You had that blurry picture of a girl’s back. You asked if it was me. My parents told me to say yes. They said you were rich p>