Chapter 252
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Chapter 252:
“Xavier found this while you were out p>
He opened the file. Photos. Bank transfers.
“Branden Cole received a wire transfer for fifty thousand dollars yesterday,” Gaston said, pointing to the page. “From a shell company registered to Aspen Schneider p>
Jocelyn stared at the proof. The numbers blurred before her eyes.
“Aspen paid him?” she whispered. “She tried to have me drugged? To ruin me p>
“She wanted photos,” Gaston said, his voice turning to ice. “Of you, compromised. To send to Kieran. To prove you’re a cheater. To break us up p>
P𝘰𝗽𝘶𝘭𝖺𝘳 ѕ𝗍𝗼ries 𝗈𝗇 𝗴𝘢𝗹ոo𝘷𝘦𝗹ѕ.𝖼о𝘮
Jocelyn’s shock hardened into something cold. Something sharp.
“She crossed the line,” Jocelyn said quietly. “There is no going back p>
“We will burn her world down,” Gaston promised. “At the wedding p>
The door swung open. Bella rushed in, breathless.
“Jo! Oh my god p>
She stopped short when she saw Gaston holding Jocelyn.
“They finally got through to you!” Bella said, clutching her chest. “They’ve been calling for the last hour p>
Gaston looked at Jocelyn, his eyes soft now.
“I’m staying here tonight,” he said. “In that chair p>
Jocelyn shifted over on the narrow hospital bed. “The bed is small. But… we fit p>
Gaston didn’t hesitate. He climbed in carefully, mindful of the IV lines, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as though she were made of glass.
“The wedding is in three days,” Jocelyn whispered against his chest.
“Is the package from Xavier ready?” Gaston asked.
“Yes,” Jocelyn nodded. “The PI delivered it yesterday. The tape from her time at St. Jude’s — the one she thinks is destroyed p>
“Then rest,” Gaston said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Saturday, we end the Schneider legacy p>
Jocelyn closed her eyes. For the first time in years, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and Gaston’s sandalwood, she felt safe.
She fell asleep listening to his heartbeat.
The tip of the fountain pen snapped.
Ink bled onto the heavy cream cardstock of the seating chart, turning the name Wolfe into a jagged black blot. Kieran Douglas stared at the mess on his mahogany desk. The smell of ink was sharp and metallic, mingling with the scent of old books and stale scotch that permeated the study.
He didn’t wipe it up. He simply watched the black pool spread, swallowing the letters one by one.
The heavy oak door slammed open behind him. The sound vibrated through the floorboards and up through the legs of his chair.
“You invited the press p>
Bella stood in the doorway, her face flushed, her chest heaving beneath a silk blouse that looked too expensive for the fury she was wearing.
Kieran didn’t look up. He reached for a tissue and dabbed at the ink, staining his fingertips.
“It’s the wedding of the year, Bella. Of course the press is coming. Vogue asked for an exclusive p>
“You are turning this into a circus,” Bella said, pacing into the room, her heels digging into the Persian rug. “A literal circus. And you’re the clown p>