Chapter 238:
Alycia rolled her eyes beneath her sunglasses, assuming it was some dramatic patient begging a doctor for medication. But when she glanced over her shoulder, her entire body went rigid.
It was Cole.
Cole Compton — the man who controlled billions of dollars, who regarded the rest of the world as something beneath his shoes — was kneeling on a hospital floor.
Alycia slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. She pressed her back flat against the cold marble pillar, her heart slamming against her ribs in a sudden, frantic rhythm.
She carefully peered around the edge of the column.
June stood there, looking down at him with absolute, freezing indifference. The distance was too great for Alycia to catch the words, but the body language needed no translation. Cole was sobbing. He was reaching desperately for June’s coat. He was completely, utterly shattered — a man begging for his life.
A cold, venomous panic coiled tightly around Alycia’s throat.
Why is he kneeling? Her mind raced. He hates her. He told me he was going to destroy her.
She watched as June turned and walked away, leaving Cole crumpled on the floor, howling in agony.
A few feet away, two nurses stood near a medication cart, heads bent together, whispering furiously. Alycia’s survival instincts snapped into focus. She unclasped her Birkin bag, reached into her wallet, and pulled out a thick stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills. She smoothed her scarf, took a breath, and walked quickly toward them.
She tapped the shorter nurse on the shoulder and flashed a warm, practiced smile, pressing five hundred dollars directly into the woman’s palm.
𝖱𝖾𝗮𝗱 wіtho𝘂t і𝘯𝘁𝖾𝗿𝗋𝘂𝘱𝗍𝘪𝗈ոs оn g𝗮𝗅𝗇𝘰𝘃𝗲𝗅s.c𝗈𝘮
“Excuse me,” Alycia whispered, her voice soft with manufactured concern. “That poor man over there — he looks absolutely devastated. Do you know what happened?”
The nurse glanced down at the money. Greed overrode discretion in an instant. She shoved the bills into her scrub pocket and leaned in close.
“I really shouldn’t say anything,” she whispered, her voice bright with excitement. “But my friend works in the basement archives. She said that man came in at two in the morning like a maniac. He forced them to pull his wife’s records from six months ago.”
Alycia’s stomach dropped. “Records?”
“Apparently his wife had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. She nearly bled to death on the table, and he had no idea. He’s been out here all morning begging for her forgiveness.”
Ectopic pregnancy. Nearly bled to death. Six months ago.
The words hit Alycia like a slap across the face.
Her mind flew back to that night. The massive yacht on the Hudson. The champagne. The birthday cake. Cole constantly checking his vibrating phone, his expression increasingly irritated, and then finally switching it off entirely.
The color drained from Alycia’s face.
.
.
.