Chapter 178
“Nonsense,” Elbert huffed. He turned his hawk-like gaze back to the contractor. “The plumbing is leaking. Catastrophically.”
The contractor blinked. “Sir, I assure you, there is no leak. I checked the pressure valves myself.”
Elbert stepped closer. His voice dropped to a low, measured rumble. “I said it is leaking, isn’t it? In fact, I believe the entire guest wing — and the secondary suites — require immediate gutting. The walls need to be opened. The floors pulled up.”
The contractor caught on. The color left his face. “Ah. Yes. Of course. A sudden structural failure. Very serious.”
“Excellent,” Elbert said, his smile thin and sharp. “Begin tomorrow. Make the guest wing uninhabitable for a month. Dust everywhere. Noise. Plastic sheeting.”
He turned to Mrs. Higgins. “Move Mr. Gaston’s things to the Master Suite. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Higgins said, dipping her head low enough to hide the small smile forming at the corner of her mouth.
Elbert walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the city skyline, the rain blurring the lights of Central Park into soft, bleeding color.
“I want a grandson,” he said to the glass. “And separate beds do not produce heirs.”
𝘗𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.𝘤𝘰𝘮
His phone buzzed. He drew it from his pocket.
“Mr. Collins?” The nanny’s voice was frantic. “It’s Aaden. He has locked himself in the bathroom. He’s screaming. He says he won’t come out until Ms. Wolfe comes to get him.”
Elbert raised an eyebrow.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.
“Perfect,” he whispered.
The rain had turned to a full deluge by the time Gaston’s Aston Martin pulled up to the curb outside Justin’s townhouse.
Jocelyn was out of the car before Gaston had put it in park. She didn’t wait for him to open her door. She ran up the stone steps, the water soaking straight through her suede boots.
The nanny opened the door, her face pale and drawn. “He’s still screaming,” she whispered, stepping aside.
Jocelyn moved through the foyer quickly. The house felt heavy with tension. Justin was standing at the far end of the hallway, leaning against the wall outside a closed bathroom door. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week — tie undone, sleeves rolled up, the particular look of utter defeat in his eyes that no amount of composure can hide.
“He won’t talk to me,” Justin said, his voice rough. He did not look at Gaston. He looked at the floor.
Gaston walked past Jocelyn and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He said nothing. The grip was firm and brief — a silent anchor.
“Let me try,” Jocelyn said quietly.
She stepped up to the door. From the other side came the sound of small, hitched sobs that settled like a weight in her chest.
“Aaden?” she called softly, tapping her fingernails lightly against the wood. “It’s Jocelyn. I heard you were having a bad day.”
The sobbing stopped. A sniffle.
.
.