Chapter 124
Chapter 124:
Elouise bypassed the reception desk entirely, her heels striking the marble floor with military precision. She headed straight for the elevators and pressed the button for the executive floor with a manicured nail that curved like a talon.
Upstairs, Jocelyn stood in the doorway of her office. She had watched her mother cross the lobby on the security feed. She was waiting.
The elevator chimed. Elouise stormed down the hallway, brushing past Harvey when he stepped into her path.
“You ungrateful little brat!” Elouise screamed as she crossed the threshold into Jocelyn’s office.
She threw her Birkin bag onto the white sofa, the heavy hardware clanking against the leather. “You fired Sloane? Vincent’s right hand? Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for the family p>
“She was embezzling,” Jocelyn said, standing behind her desk as though it were a barricade. “And she was sleeping with him p>
“Who cares? You do not air dirty laundry in public!” Elouise’s face contorted. “Everyone is talking, Jocelyn! Mrs. Tate is telling everyone at the club that the Wolfe Hotel is a circus p>
𝗗𝘰n’𝘁 𝗆𝘪ѕs ո𝗲𝗐 𝗿e𝗅𝘦𝖺𝗌е𝗌 o𝗇
Jocelyn’s mind flashed briefly to her recent, perfectly pleasant conversation with Mrs. Tate. Another lie. Her mother’s weapons had always been forged from fiction.
“I am saving the hotel,” Jocelyn said, her voice dropping in temperature. “Something you never did. I am removing the rot p>
Elouise’s eyes bulged. The vein at her temple pulsed. She rounded the desk and invaded Jocelyn’s space. She smelled of Chanel No. 5 and gin.
“You are ruining this family’s reputation! You are a selfish, spiteful little girl p>
Elouise raised her hand.
Jocelyn flinched — an instinct from childhood she had never managed to unlearn.
The slap landed hard. The sound cracked through the glass-walled office like a whip. Jocelyn’s head snapped to the side. Her cheek erupted in sudden, fierce heat. Her ear rang.
Silence fell — absolute and suffocating. Harvey stood frozen in the doorway, his mouth open.
Jocelyn turned her head back slowly. Her eyes were dry. Cold. Her right hand, hidden behind the desk, twitched toward the top drawer where the pepper spray lay — an aborted instinct, stopped by the old, familiar terror that her mother’s rage had always produced in her. Something inside her, a tether that had held her to this woman for twenty-six years, finally snapped clean.
“That is the last time you ever touch me,” Jocelyn said quietly.
She reached forward and pressed the intercom button on her desk. “Security. Executive floor. Now p>
Elouise let out a high, nervous laugh. “You wouldn’t dare. I am your mother. I own you p>
“You are an egg donor,” Jocelyn said. “And a bully p>
Two guards appeared at the door. Their eyes moved from Jocelyn’s reddening cheek to Elouise’s furious face. “Ms. Wolfe?” one of them asked.
“Escort Mrs. Schneider out. If she resists, call the NYPD and file a report for assault,” Jocelyn said. Her voice did not waver.
Elouise gasped. “You cannot do this! This is my hotel p>
“The trust owns the hotel,” Jocelyn replied, with a cold finality that made truth sound like a weapon. “And I run the trust now p>
The guards stepped forward, taking Elouise by both arms.