Chapter 116
Chapter 116:
Harvey accepted it as though it were a live grenade. “Aye aye, Captain. Queens it is p>
Jocelyn leaned back in her chair. This was the nuclear option. If Aunt Lily found out, Vincent lost his financial safety net. Lily’s family money was the only reason he could sustain the life he had built for himself — and for Sloane.
Later that afternoon, she spotted Sloane strutting past the glass walls of her office. Sloane caught her eye, smirked, and gave a small, mocking wave.
Jocelyn waved back with a perfectly sweet smile.
Enjoy it while it lasts, she thought.
Her computer pinged with an urgent email notification. It was from a top-tier client, Mrs. Tate.
Subject: URGENT — Meeting regarding staff conduct.
Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. She had expected her plan involving Lily to take days, perhaps weeks, to bear fruit. This was something else entirely — something new and unexpected. She felt a jolt of adrenaline, clean and clarifying.
She replied immediately: I am available right now.
She checked the digital schedule. Sloane was meeting with Mr. Tate that afternoon for a “contract renewal” discussion in the lobby lounge.
𝖥iոd 𝗻о𝘷𝘦𝗅 P𝘋𝖥ѕ оո
“Perfect timing,” Jocelyn murmured.
She called security. “Be ready for a disturbance in the lobby. Do not intervene until I say so p>
She checked her reflection in her compact mirror. War paint on.
She walked out to the lobby to wait for the show.
The lobby hummed with the afternoon check-in rush. Near the elevators, Sloane was flirting with Mr. Tate, a wealthy businessman who stayed at the hotel regularly. She touched his arm, laughing too loudly, her body language broadcasting availability to anyone who cared to look.
The revolving doors spun open with force.
A woman in a Chanel suit stormed inside. It was Mrs. Tate. Her face was a mask of barely contained fury.
She spotted Sloane immediately. Her eyes blazed.
“You homewrecking trash!” Mrs. Tate screamed.
The lobby went silent. Guests stopped mid-stride. The concierge froze behind the desk.
Sloane’s smile collapsed. “Mrs. Tate? I was just p>
Mrs. Tate didn’t let her finish. She reached into her Hermès bag, pulled out a thick stack of printed screenshots, and hurled them at Sloane’s face.
“You sent explicit photos to my husband’s work phone!” Mrs. Tate shouted. “Did you think I wouldn’t see the cloud sync p>
Paper rained down across the marble floor — images, explicit texts, laid bare for the entire lobby to see.
Sloane scrambled to gather them, her face draining of color. “It’s not what you think p>
Uncle Vincent burst out of his office, breathless and red-faced. “What is the meaning of this p>
“Control your staff, Vincent!” Mrs. Tate snapped, leveling a manicured finger at him. “Or I pull every event from this hotel. I will tell everyone in the Hamptons that this place is a brothel p>
Jocelyn stepped forward from the shadow near the front desk. She was calm. Collected. The still eye at the center of the hurricane.
“Mrs. Tate,” she said, her voice smooth and carrying quiet authority. “I am so sorry for this distress p>