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Chapter 809:

Cole sat in the driver’s seat. His suit was still damp from the cemetery. His hair hung in wet, messy strands across his bruised forehead. His hands gripped a waterproof plastic document bag so tightly his knuckles ached.

Inside the bag was the deed to the Fifth Avenue penthouse. Beneath it was a legally binding contract, drafted by his lawyers an hour ago, unconditionally transferring every single liquid asset and property in his personal portfolio to June Erickson.

It was a pathetic offering. He knew it. A desperate, bleeding piece of meat held out in exchange for exactly one minute of her time. He caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looked like a corpse. A wave of absolute self-loathing washed over him.

Headlights cut through the rain. A dark gray Aston Martin pulled smoothly into the drop-off zone of June’s building.

Cole’s lungs seized. He recognized Easton’s car immediately.

The building’s armed security guards rushed out with large umbrellas. Easton stepped out of the driver’s side, walked around the hood, took an umbrella from one of the guards, and opened the passenger door.

June stepped out. She wore a soft, camel-colored cashmere coat. Her face was pale, but as Cole watched her, a physical pain stabbed him through the chest. Her eyes were calm. Her shoulders were relaxed. She looked up at Easton and smiled — a small, private, effortless smile.

It was a look of complete safety and intimacy. A look she had never, not once, given Cole in three years of marriage.

The jealousy and the crushing weight of his guilt collided inside his skull. He shoved the car door open and stepped out into the freezing downpour.

“June!” he shouted. His voice was raw and broken, barely cutting through the sound of the heavy rain.

June stopped walking. She turned her head. She saw Cole jogging across the wet asphalt, his clothes plastered to his body, looking like a stray dog dragged in from the storm.

𝗗𝘰ո’𝘵 𝗆і𝘴s ne𝗐 𝘳ele𝗮𝘀e𝘀 𝘰𝗻.с𝗼𝗆

The soft smile on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a look of absolute, freezing disgust — the look of someone who had just spotted a cockroach crawling across a dining table.

Easton moved immediately. He stepped in front of June, his broad shoulders completely blocking Cole’s line of sight. His eyes locked onto Cole, sharp and lethal.

Four armed security guards stepped off the curb and formed a physical wall between Cole and the entrance, stopping him five meters from the steps.

“Let her walk away, Compton,” Easton’s voice boomed over the rain, cold and authoritative. “Your restraining order is active. Take one more step and you leave in handcuffs p>

Cole ignored him. He stared over the guards’ shoulders, his bloodshot eyes fixed on June’s face.

“June, please,” Cole begged. The ruthless Wall Street billionaire was standing in the street, his voice trembling with desperation. “Just give me one minute. One minute p>

He raised his shaking hand, holding up the waterproof folder. “I transferred the penthouse to you. I’ve established a blind trust in your name — it contains the penthouse and a controlling interest in three of my non-voting portfolios. It’s blood money, June. Your money. Take it. I know I was wrong p>