Chapter 223
“The Wolfe Hotel. In Manhattan,” Jocelyn said. She stood taller, letting the truth serve as her spine. “My grandmother founded it. I run it now. As CEO.”
Silence.
Everyone knew The Wolfe. It was an institution. It was trendy. It was expensive.
“You… you’re the owner?” Fiona’s eyes widened. She looked at Jocelyn’s dress again, visibly recalculating its cost.
“My grandmother retired. I took over,” Jocelyn stated.
Chad looked as though he had swallowed a lemon whole. His brain was working hard to process the shift in hierarchy.
“Well… anyone can inherit money,” he muttered, moving the goalposts. “Doesn’t mean you earned it.”
“And anyone can peak at eighteen, Chad,” Bella shot back. “But some of us kept growing.”
The crowd let out a collective sound. Chad turned a shade of purple that clashed violently with his jacket.
Just then, the music cut out. A screech of feedback whined through the speakers.
𝖶еeklу 𝗿e𝘭𝖾𝘢𝘴𝘦𝗌 𝗼𝗻 𝘨𝗮𝗹𝗻𝗈𝗏e𝗹𝘀.𝘤om
“Please welcome our special guest, Mrs. Gable!” the DJ’s voice boomed.
An elderly woman walked onto the small stage, leaning on a cane, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun.
Jocelyn smiled genuinely for the first time all evening. Mrs. Gable. The history teacher. The only one who had ever told Jocelyn she was smart.
Mrs. Gable squinted against the spotlight and scanned the room. Her eyes landed on the group by the bar, then found Jocelyn.
Her face lit up. She waved enthusiastically with her free hand. “Jocelyn! My star pupil!”
Chad waved his beer bottle toward the stage. “Mrs. Gable! Over here! It’s Chad! The quarterback!”
Mrs. Gable adjusted her glasses and looked in his direction.
“Who?” she said into the microphone. “Oh. The boy who failed History twice? I’m surprised you could read the invitation, dear.”
The room erupted — not with polite laughter, but with a genuine roar.
Chad looked as though he wanted to dissolve through the floor.
Jocelyn moved toward the stage. Chad stepped into her path, his ego bruised and turning dangerous.
“You think you’re special because the old bat likes you?” he hissed.
Jocelyn stopped. She looked him up and down — his cheap shoes, his desperate jacket, his insecurity leaking out of every pore.
“Move, Chad,” she said quietly. “Or I’ll buy the bank that holds your mortgage and foreclose on your house just for fun.”
Chad stepped back. He looked genuinely afraid. He saw something in her eyes — a steel that hadn’t been there ten years ago.
Jocelyn walked past him, her green dress swishing behind her like a victory flag.
Jocelyn helped Mrs. Gable down the stairs from the stage. The old woman’s hand was frail, her skin like parchment.
“You look wonderful, dear. Success suits you,” Mrs. Gable said, patting her hand.
“Thank you for defending me back there,” Jocelyn said.
“I only spoke the truth. You were the only one with a brain in that class,” Mrs. Gable winked. “The rest of them were just… noise.”
“Mrs. Gable, I want to offer you something,” Jocelyn said. She reached into her clutch and produced a gold business card — heavy, metal, engraved.
.