Chapter 118
Chapter 118:
Aspen smiled slowly. It was a shark’s smile. “Exactly. It’s a fake marriage. We just need proof. If we can prove marriage fraud to Gaston’s father, he could pull his funding. Or better yet, we leak it to the press and let the family’s lawyers tear her apart p>
“How?” Sloane asked.
“Get me back into the hotel. I need to see her office — her calendar, her emails,” Aspen said.
“I’m banned,” Sloane cried. “Security dragged me out p>
“But you have connections, don’t you? Someone you hired? Someone who owes you a favor?” Aspen pressed.
Sloane hesitated, her sobs beginning to subside as she thought. “There’s a night guard — Jerry. I got him the job. He’s… impressionable p>
𝗗𝘪ѕ𝘤o𝘃e𝘳 𝗻𝗲𝘸 s𝘵o𝘳𝗶𝖾s 𝗼𝗇 ѕ.сo𝗆
Aspen’s smile widened. “Perfect. Call him. Tell him you need to retrieve some personal items you left behind. Something sentimental. He’ll let you in p>
“We’re going to find something that destroys her,” Aspen promised.
Back at the penthouse, Jocelyn came home to silence.
There was a note on the kitchen island in Gaston’s handwriting: Late meeting. Leftovers in fridge.
She felt a small, unwelcome pang of disappointment. She had wanted to tell him about Sloane. She had wanted to tell him she won.
“Stop it,” she scolded herself aloud. “He’s a roommate p>
She ate the leftovers alone at the massive marble island, and the silence of the penthouse felt louder than usual.
The next morning, the Wolfe Hotel lobby was in chaos.
A delivery man struggled through the revolving doors carrying a massive arrangement of red roses. It was obscene in scale — a bush, not a bouquet. He staggered under its weight, nearly taking out a potted palm.
“Delivery for Mrs. Collins!” he announced.
The entire lobby turned. Staff whispered. Guests pointed.
Jocelyn emerged from her office, and the heat rose to her face the moment she saw them. “In my office, please p>
The delivery man set the arrangement on her desk. It consumed half the surface. There were at least a hundred roses.
Harvey whistled from the doorway. “Someone’s either in serious trouble or seriously in love p>
Jocelyn found the card nestled deep among the blooms — thick, cream cardstock with two lines in a familiar hand:
For the headache. And the soup. — G
She laughed despite herself. She pressed her fingertips to a petal. It was soft, velvety.
Is this what real courtship feels like? she wondered.
Then she caught herself and shook her head. No. It’s part of the act. He sends flowers to the office so people see. It’s PR.
She took a photo and texted him: Subtle.
He replied instantly: I don’t do subtle. I do Collins.
She was still smiling at her phone when Harvey cleared his throat from the doorway.
“Boss, you’re glowing,” he teased.
“It’s the reflection of the red,” she said quickly.
Her phone buzzed again. Aaden this time.
Saturday is ON! Grandpa Elbert said yes. Pick me up at 10?
10 AM sharp, she replied. No uncles allowed.
Aaden sent back a sad face, followed immediately by a thumbs up.
Jocelyn exhaled. She could handle Aaden. She couldn’t handle Gaston right now — not with the memory of his skin still too fresh, still too close to the surface.