Chapter 188
They entered Grandma Wolfe’s room. The old woman sat up in bed, reading a hardcover novel with a magnifying glass. She looked tired — her doctor had just left after warning that her blood pressure was dangerously elevated and that any significant emotional shock could be catastrophic.
“Mother,” Elouise said briskly. “We brought Aspen. She wants to apologize.”
Grandma Wolfe lowered her book and looked over her spectacles, her gaze sharp as a razor. “I don’t want her apologies. I want her to leave Jocelyn alone.”
Aspen stepped forward. Tears welled instantly — practiced, flawless. “Grandma, please. I know I made mistakes. But I’m family too. I just want to make peace.”
𝘠𝗼𝘂𝘳 𝗻ex𝘁 𝘧𝖺𝘃𝗈𝘳іt𝘦 𝘳𝗲a𝖽 іs o𝗇 𝗴𝖺𝘭ոоvelѕ.𝖼𝗼𝘮
“You are a Schneider,” Grandma said coldly. “You are not a Wolfe. And you never will be.”
Elouise sighed, glancing at her phone. “I have to take a call — it’s Robert. Mother, please just listen to her. She’s trying.”
She turned and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
Fatal mistake.
The moment the latch clicked, Aspen’s entire demeanor shifted.
The tears evaporated. Her posture straightened. The sweet, pleading expression dissolved into a cold, predatory sneer.
She dropped the bouquet onto the foot of the bed. It landed with a soft thud.
“You stubborn old hag,” Aspen said, her voice dripping with venom.
Grandma Wolfe gasped, clutching her book. “Get out.”
Aspen moved to the side of the bed and leaned in close, invading the old woman’s space.
“You think Jocelyn is winning?” she laughed softly. “You think she’s happy? She’s a joke, Grandma. The whole city is laughing at her.”
“She married a Collins,” Grandma said, her voice shaking. “She is happy. He protects her.”
“Happy?” Aspen hissed, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper coated in poison. “She married a man who won’t touch her. Everyone knows it. Gaston Collins is gay. He uses her as a beard to protect his family’s reputation. She’s miserable. She sleeps alone every night in that cold penthouse. She’ll never give you great-grandchildren with that man.”
She leaned closer, watching the color drain from the old woman’s face.
“The Wolfe line ends with her. It ends in a miserable, loveless sham. Everything you built dies with a lie. And when she’s abandoned — she’ll abandon you too. You’ll die in this bed waiting for her.”
The words landed like blows. The silence that followed held only the hum of the oxygen machine.
Grandma froze. Her face went slack.
Her vision began to blur at the edges. “What did you say?”
Aspen did not stop. She watched the old woman’s skin turn a sickly, ashen grey with something close to satisfaction.
“You heard me,” she said.
“You… lie…” Grandma gasped. Her hand clawed at her collar. Her eyes rolled back.
The heart monitor on the bedside table erupted.
Beep. Beep. Beep-beep-beep.
Aspen inspected her nails, looking mildly bored. “Oops. Did I upset you?”
Grandma slumped sideways. The book slid from her lap and struck the floor.
The monitor screamed a flatline warning.
Aspen smiled — a slow, cruel, satisfied smile.
The red light above the door began to flash. An alarm blared through the corridor.
Code Blue. Room 304.
.