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Chapter 853:

Crawford’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. Standard blackmail was useless against a man with bottomless foreign capital and no shame.

The air in the room went heavy. The two men held each other’s gaze, the silence between them dense and charged.

Then Arthur’s grin shifted into something mocking. “I have to ask, Crawford — why is the king of media wading into a biotech auction? All this effort.” He tilted his head. “Is it really just to impress the Erickson woman p>

Crawford’s hands curled into fists on the table. His eyes went very dark and very still — a warning that Arthur was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t see the bottom of.

Arthur stood, adjusted his t-shirt, and gestured pleasantly toward the door. “Get out of my office. I’ll see you at Sotheby’s tomorrow. Bring a tissue — you’re going to cry when I take her company p>

Crawford rose slowly. He looked down at Arthur from across the table, his expression carrying the particular calm of a man who has already decided what comes next.

“You will regret this,” Crawford said quietly.

He turned and walked out through the glass doors, leaving the promise hanging in the cold air behind him.

At 8:00 PM, the atmosphere inside The Core Club — Wall Street’s most exclusive members-only sanctuary — was thick with the smell of expensive cigars and old money.

Crawford Love had rented out the entire VIP lounge. He sat deep in a tufted leather armchair, swirling a glass of twenty-five-year Macallan, his brow deeply furrowed. His mind was running calculations at speed, trying to engineer a financial kill-shot against Arthur Pendleton’s sovereign wealth backing before dawn.

The heavy oak door swung open.

𝖱e𝘢d 𝘧𝗋𝘦е nоv𝗲𝗅𝘀 on ѕ.сo𝗺

Arthur Pendleton strolled in, uninvited, an unlit Cohiba between his fingers and that same irritating smirk plastered across his face.

Crawford’s security detail stepped forward immediately, hands moving inside their jackets.

Crawford raised two fingers. They stood down. His eyes locked onto Arthur, burning with a cold, blue flame.

Arthur ignored the hostile atmosphere entirely. He dropped into the armchair directly across from Crawford, struck a match at his leisure, and lit the cigar. He blew a thick cloud of smoke into the space between them.

“Lively night in New York, isn’t it?” Arthur mused, leaning back.

Crawford didn’t blink. “Did you come here to sign the withdrawal paperwork, or just to waste my time p>

Arthur chuckled. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees, the humor draining from his eyes and replaced by sharp, calculating curiosity. “I really have to know,” he said, lowering his voice. “What kind of black magic does this June woman possess p>

The sound of her name in Arthur’s mouth made Crawford’s blood spike. His fingers tightened around the crystal glass until his knuckles turned white.

“Do not speak her name,” Crawford said, his voice a low, vibrating warning.

Arthur threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Relax. I’m just fascinated. Because exactly two hours after you left my office, I received another visitor p>