Chapter 23
Chapter 23:
Jocelyn looked at the screen and groaned. “I have to go.” She clutched her purse, feeling the hard outline of the jewelry box inside. It was her escape fund, her final parachute — but it wasn’t enough to fight a war on all fronts. Not yet.
“Go where p>
“The dinner. At Le Coucou. My mother is threatening the trust again p>
Gaston took the phone from her hand, read the message, and let a dark smile curl his lips.
“You’re not going anywhere looking like that,” he said, gesturing to her torn dress.
“I have to go, Gaston. If I don’t p>
“We will go,” he interrupted. “Together p>
“But if you walk in there, they’re expecting Babe Vincent. They’ll know I lied p>
“Let them,” Gaston said. He stood and pulled her up with him. “It’s time they knew you’re not alone.” He reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet box. Inside sat a simple, elegant diamond band. “A queen needs a crown. Or at least a ring for her coronation.” He slid it onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.
а𝗱𝗱𝗂𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝖾 𝘀𝘵𝗈ri𝖾𝘀 оn ѕ.c𝘰𝘮
He pressed a button on the wall panel.
“Send the team in,” he said.
Within seconds, three people swept into the apartment carrying garment bags and makeup cases — a full styling team.
“Make her look like a queen,” Gaston ordered. “Make her look like she owns the city p>
Twenty minutes later, Jocelyn stood before the full-length mirror.
She was wearing a crimson gown that fit like a second skin — a high slit, a neckline that was daring but elegant. Her hair was swept up, the diamond necklace from the cellar catching the light at her throat.
She looked dangerous. She looked powerful.
Gaston stepped up behind her. He had changed into a fresh tuxedo, this one midnight blue. He looked devastatingly handsome.
“Ready?” he asked, meeting her eyes in the reflection.
“To do what?” she asked.
“To burn it all down,” he whispered.
He offered her his arm.
Jocelyn took it.
The private dining room at Le Coucou was suffocating.
Robert and Elouise were sweating. The Vincent family — Senior and his wife — were checking their watches with barely concealed impatience. Aspen was sulking, scrolling on her phone.
“She’s not coming,” Aspen muttered. “She probably got too drunk at The Box p>
“She’ll come,” Robert insisted, wiping his forehead with a napkin. “She knows the consequences p>
The double doors swung open.
The maître d’ stepped aside.
Jocelyn walked in — or rather, she glided. The red dress caught the light, making her look like a flame in a dull room.
And on her arm was Gaston.
The silence that fell was absolute.
Mr. Vincent Senior dropped his fork. It clattered against his plate with a sharp, ringing chime. He stared at Gaston, his face cycling through confusion and then something darker — a dawning, indistinct fear. He had had one run-in with this man: a brutal corporate takeover five years ago that had cost him a fortune. He knew this face. It was the face of financial annihilation.
Robert looked baffled. “Jocelyn, you’re late. And this is p>
“This is my husband,” Jocelyn said, her voice clear and steady.