Chapter 260
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Chapter 260:
The new footage was grainy, shot on an old camcorder. It showed a dark, dusty attic. Two teenage girls were visible — a younger, sneering Aspen, and a terrified Jocelyn backed into a corner.
“You’re a charity case, Wolfe,” teen-Aspen’s voice sneered. “My little pet. Now be a good girl and stay in the dark. Kieran is coming to play. He’ll be my hero today p>
The video showed Aspen pulling a pink, frilly dress from a nearby trunk — the same dress from Kieran’s photograph — and shoving it at Jocelyn. “Put this on. He needs to ‘save’ me p>
Jocelyn refused, shaking her head. Aspen slapped her. The attic door slammed shut, plunging the room into darkness. The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the footage, followed by Aspen’s mocking laughter from the other side.
The video cut out.
Kieran stared, his mouth open. The memory, the photograph, his entire heroic origin story — all of it had been a lie. A sick, twisted stage play. He hadn’t saved Aspen. He had been a pawn in Jocelyn’s torture.
“Someone made this!” Aspen shrieked, her voice cracking with pure panic. “Jocelyn — where is she p>
The footage was replaced by a single high-resolution image: a bank statement showing a $20,000 withdrawal from Aspen’s personal account, dated last Tuesday.
“Is that AI too p>
𝗧h𝗲 b𝖾st 𝗋е𝘃іе𝘸ѕ oո
The voice came from the back of the room. Clear. Strong.
The spotlight shifted.
Jocelyn stood up.
She walked toward the dance floor. The midnight blue dress flowed around her like armor. The diamonds at her throat blazed under the chandeliers.
“That withdrawal was last Tuesday, Aspen,” Jocelyn said calmly. “Outside the Chase bank on 4th Street. And the attic — that was my fifteenth birthday p>
The guests parted like the Red Sea, staring at her. She no longer looked like a victim. She looked like Nemesis herself.
“Jocelyn…” Kieran whispered. He looked from the screen to her face, the cognitive dissonance tearing through him.
“You,” Aspen breathed. Her hands were trembling so violently that her bouquet slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. “You did this! You hacker! You criminal p>
“I didn’t hack anything,” Jocelyn said, stopping at the edge of the dance floor. “I just collected the trash you left behind p>
“Get her out! Security!” Aspen shrieked, jabbing a finger in Jocelyn’s direction. “Arrest her p>
Two burly security guards stepped forward.
Gaston stepped out from the shadows behind Jocelyn.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t raise his voice. He simply stood there, radiating a cold, terrifying authority. With unhurried calm, he adjusted his cufflinks.
“Touch her,” Gaston said — his voice low, but carrying effortlessly across the silent room — “and I will personally ensure you never work in this city, or any other, ever again p>
The guards froze. They looked at Gaston Collins. They took in his suit, his stance, the sheer, unmistakable weight of his presence.
They stepped back.
Gaston moved to stand beside Jocelyn, placing a hand on the small of her back.
A united front.
Kieran stumbled off the stage, moving like a man walking through deep water. He made his way toward Jocelyn.