Chapter 68
Chapter 68:
The room went silent. Fifty million dollars was more than the hotel’s gross revenue for the last three years combined.
“This is…” a board member stammered. “This is real p>
“The funds have already been placed in escrow,” Liam said. “Contingent, of course, on the current management remaining in place. Mr. Collins has full faith in Mrs. Collins. He has… considerably less faith in the previous administration p>
Jocelyn stepped forward. “So we have a choice. You can vote me out, and the fifty million disappears. Or you can accept the contract and we make this hotel the premier destination in New York p>
She looked at Vincent. “And Vincent? The police are waiting in the lobby to discuss the security breach regarding the temp worker you hired p>
Vincent turned pale. He stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“This isn’t over,” he muttered, grabbing his briefcase.
Iո𝘵𝖾𝗇𝗌e 𝗿о𝘮𝘢𝗇с𝗲 𝘰𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗅ոo𝗏е𝘭𝘴.𝗰𝗈m
“It is for you,” Jocelyn said. “Harvey, escort him out p>
Harvey stepped forward, looking delighted. “Right this way, sir p>
As Vincent was led out, the board members began to clap — slowly at first, then with growing enthusiasm. They didn’t care about family feuds. They cared about money. And Jocelyn had just brought in a whale.
Jocelyn sat at the head of the table. A moment later, her pocket buzzed.
It was a text from Gaston.
Did they cry?
Jocelyn smiled, hiding it behind her hand before typing back.
Vincent cried. The board cheered. You just bought me an empire.
I just invested in a sure thing, Gaston replied. How are you going to thank me tonight?
Jocelyn looked at the ring on her finger — the pink diamond. Then she thought about the platinum band she had fastened around his wrist.
She smiled, a wicked idea forming, and typed back: I bought us tickets for a cruise. Don’t be late.
Gaston, reading the message in his own office, raised an eyebrow. A cruise. That was bold. He interpreted it as a metaphor for a long, intimate night — he had no idea she was calling his bluff on an old, silly joke between them.
For the first time, the “props” didn’t feel like lies. They felt like armor. And she was ready for war.
The silver envelope felt heavy in Jocelyn’s hands, the cardstock cool against her fingertips. She sat on the edge of the sprawling cream sofa in the penthouse living room, her leg bouncing a nervous rhythm. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below and the sound of running water from the master bathroom.
Fifty million dollars.
The number still felt abstract, like a typo in a spreadsheet. But the contract was real. Gaston had saved her hotel, her legacy, and her pride with a stroke of his pen. She needed to do something. A watch was nice, but this required a gesture that acknowledged the sacrifice he was making — living a double life, playing the doting husband while his real desires were kept in the shadows.
The water shut off.