Chapter 4: This Is Just the Beginning

Five days passed.

Five days of forced bed rest.

Five days of blood transfusions, pain medication, and whispered conversations between doctors who looked at June with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

The heavy curtains of the VIP suite had been pulled open.

Warm afternoon sunlight spilled across the polished floor.

June sat upright against a stack of pillows.

The color had slowly begun returning to her face.

Across the room, Vera sat in a chair peeling an apple with a small knife.

The quiet felt almost peaceful.

Then suddenly, Vera froze.

The knife stopped moving.

Her eyes were locked onto her phone.

The color drained from her face.

June immediately noticed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Is it him again?"

Vera hesitated.

She bit her lower lip.

Without saying a word, she handed the phone over.

June looked down.

A financial news alert filled the screen.

The headline was impossible to miss.

Cole Compton Pledges $10 Million to Establish the Alycia Beasley Medical Wing.

June's eyes moved slowly across the article.

The report praised Alycia as a rising star in medical research.

It described her as a brilliant innovator whose groundbreaking work would transform the treatment of neurological pain.

Below the article was a photograph.

Alycia stood behind a podium wearing a spotless white lab coat.

She smiled modestly for the cameras.

Cole stood beside her, applauding proudly.

June felt a wave of nausea roll through her stomach.

Not because of her injuries.

Because of the lie.

The research being celebrated wasn't Alycia's.

It was hers.

Years ago, when June was only twenty years old, she had developed a revolutionary neuro-blocker formula.

The patent had been filed under a pseudonym to protect her privacy.

Only a handful of people even knew it existed.

Alycia had stolen it.

Page by page.

Word by word.

And now she was accepting praise for work she had never done.

June slowly handed the phone back.

Her voice was calm.

Dangerously calm.

"I'm checking out."

The apple slipped from Vera's hand.

"What?"

"June, have you completely lost your mind?"

"The doctor said you need another week of bed rest!"

June threw the blanket aside and carefully lowered her feet onto the floor.

"I've spent almost a week lying in this room."

"I have work to do."

"Your stitches could reopen."

"Then I'll walk carefully."

"June—"

"No."

The firmness in her voice stopped Vera immediately.

The old June would have apologized.

The old June would have hesitated.

This June did neither.

Two hours later, despite multiple warnings from the medical staff, she signed the discharge papers against medical advice.

As she and Vera walked through the hospital lobby, a massive television hanging from the ceiling caught their attention.

A live broadcast was underway.

The ribbon-cutting ceremony for the Alycia Beasley Medical Wing.

Cole stood behind a microphone.

His voice echoed throughout the lobby.

"Alycia's brilliance deserves to be recognized by the world," he announced proudly.

"This facility is only the beginning."

The audience erupted into applause.

Alycia smiled modestly and lowered her gaze.

The performance was flawless.

June watched silently.

Nearby, two young nurses stood behind the reception desk.

One sighed dreamily.

"Mr. Compton is incredible," she whispered.

"He's so generous to his girlfriend."

"His wife must be kicking herself for losing him."

Vera nearly exploded.

"Excuse me?"

She took a step forward.

Ready to unleash years of frustration.

But June caught her wrist.

"Not now," June said quietly.

"Why not?" Vera hissed.

"Because they're still climbing."

June's gaze remained fixed on the screen.

"And the higher they climb, the harder they'll fall."

The words sent a chill through Vera.

Together, they pushed through the revolving doors and stepped into the cold Manhattan afternoon.

The air smelled like traffic, ambition, and money.

June adjusted the collar of her black coat.

Then she turned toward Vera.

"Take me to the bank."

"Which bank?"

"The one near the estate?"

"No."

"Then where?"

"UBS."

"The private wealth management branch on Wall Street."

Vera stopped walking.

"UBS?"

"June, do you know how much money someone needs just to get a meeting there?"

"At least ten million dollars in liquid assets."

For the first time all day, June smiled.

It wasn't warm.

It wasn't happy.

It was sharp.

Controlled.

Almost frightening.

"Good thing I already have an appointment."

The drive downtown passed in stunned silence.

Outside the window, skyscrapers stretched into the clouds.

The financial district slowly swallowed the horizon.

June stared out at the city.

Her thoughts drifted backward.

To long nights spent in university laboratories.

To patents filed under secret names.

To investment accounts she had hidden years ago.

To the fortune she built long before she ever met Cole Compton.

When they married, she had buried that part of herself.

She had wanted a simple life.

A normal marriage.

A husband who loved her.

Instead, she got Cole.

A man who believed she survived on his generosity.

A man who monitored her spending.

A man who treated her like a burden.

The irony almost made her laugh.

Cole thought he was her provider.

He thought she depended on him.

He had no idea she was worth more than his entire company.

The Porsche finally stopped in front of a towering granite-and-glass building.

The headquarters of UBS Private Wealth Management.

The entrance looked more like a fortress than a bank.

June stepped out of the car.

She straightened her coat.

Her posture was different now.

Gone was the hesitant woman who constantly apologized.

Gone was the wife who begged for affection.

Only June remained.

The woman she had hidden for years.

She looked back at Vera.

Her best friend stood frozen beside the car, staring at the building.

"Ready to be surprised?" June asked.

Then she turned and walked toward the entrance.

Without hesitation.

Without fear.

Without looking back.

And for the first time since signing the divorce papers, she felt something unfamiliar stirring inside her.

Power.

The revenge had not started yet.

This was only the beginning.