Chapter 135
Chapter 135:
In the heart of Manhattan, the air conditioning in Douglas Corp was running at full blast, but Kieran Douglas was sweating.
He sat at his desk, quarterly reports open and untouched in front of him, his thumb navigating to Instagram for the fourth time in an hour.
His cousin Anny had just posted a story.
Spotted: Collins Superyacht leaving Chelsea. Someone is honeymooning! #CollinsWife
Kieran tapped and zoomed. The photo was grainy, taken from a distance, bright with afternoon light. But there was no mistaking the figure on the aft deck. The blonde hair whipping in the wind. The posture.
It was Jocelyn. And standing directly behind her, close enough to touch, was Gaston Collins.
A hot spike of rage drove itself into Kieran’s stomach. He threw his phone across the room. It hit the opposite wall with a crack and fell to the carpet, screen shattered.
Mo𝘴t 𝗿е𝖺𝘥 𝗍𝘩іs we𝖾𝗄 oո g𝗮l𝗻о𝗏е𝗅ѕ.с𝗈𝗺
“She’s on a boat with him,” he said, his voice shaking. “Alone p>
The door opened. Aspen walked in holding fabric swatches. “Kieran, look at these for the tablecloths. I think the ivory p>
“Get out!” He stood up, knocking his chair over.
Aspen flinched, dropping the swatches. “What happened p>
“He took her on a yacht! He is parading her around like a trophy!” Kieran shouted, pacing like a caged animal.
“So?” Aspen retrieved a swatch, her eyes narrowing. “It’s a fake marriage. He’s gay. They are probably playing cards and doing face masks p>
“You don’t take a woman on a superyacht to play cards!” Kieran turned to the window, staring toward the river even though they were long gone from view. “He is looking at her. Right now. He is looking at her in a way I don’t like p>
“You are obsessed,” Aspen said flatly. “It is pathetic p>
“Get out, Aspen p>
She glared at him, her lips pressed thin with fury, then turned and marched out, slamming the door.
In the hallway, she pulled out her phone. She didn’t call her mother. She called a contact at the marina — someone she used to party with.
“Hey,” she said, her voice turning sweet. “Did The Wolfe leave port? Yeah? Who was on board? Just the two of them p>
She listened. Her expression darkened.
“Keep me posted on when they dock. I want to know everything p>
She hung up. She was not going to let Jocelyn win. Not on land, and not at sea.
Back on the yacht, the water had turned a deep, churning blue. The city had vanished entirely.
Gaston stood on the bridge, looking out at the horizon. The Captain held the wheel, but Gaston was the one steering the situation.
He had lied about the photographer’s schedule. He had lied about the seasickness pills in his pocket. He had lied about the cabins. He checked the navigation monitor. They were entering a dead zone — no cell service.
“Cut the WiFi in ten minutes,” Gaston told the Captain.
“Sir?” The Captain looked uncertain.
“Total privacy. No emails. No calls p>
“Understood p>