Chapter 340
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Chapter 340:
“We have a contract,” she reminded him, her voice considerably weaker than she intended.
Justin reached up and gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
“Rule number one of the contract,” he murmured. “In public, you belong entirely to me p>
He stepped back, his expression resetting to a smooth, courteous mask. He escorted her to her car without another word.
Later that night, Justin sat in the back of his town car, the city lights sliding past the tinted windows.
His phone buzzed. It was his private investigator.
“Senator,” the PI reported. “Quentin, Miss Golden’s former fiancé, is secretly moving assets. He is vulnerable p>
Justin’s eyes turned to ice.
“Crush him,” Justin ordered. “Cut off his credit lines. Destroy his business. I want every piece of garbage removed from her life p>
𝗥е𝖺𝖽 𝗳𝗿om yоur 𝗽𝘩one o𝘯 ѕ.𝗰𝘰m
Saturday afternoon. The sky over Long Island was a clear, brilliant blue.
Jocelyn drove her Porsche up to the Wolfe estate. The massive penthouse in Manhattan had felt like a tomb without Gaston’s presence filling it.
She found Grandma Wolfe in the glass conservatory, carefully pruning a row of white roses. The old woman looked up immediately and noticed the dark circles beneath Jocelyn’s eyes, the tense set of her shoulders.
“Sit down, child,” Grandma Wolfe said softly, pointing to a wicker chair. She handed her pruning shears to a nurse and waved the staff out of the room.
Jocelyn sat and pulled her cardigan tighter around her chest.
“Are you and Gaston fighting?” Grandma Wolfe asked gently.
Jocelyn looked down at her hands and took a shaky breath.
“I saw his leg,” Jocelyn confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “The scars. They are horrific. He told me it was a skiing accident, but I know he is lying. He is hiding something terrible from me p>
Grandma Wolfe let out a long, heavy sigh. She looked at her granddaughter for a moment. Elbert had shared the story in confidence, but she knew Jocelyn deserved to understand the depth of the love that protected her. She made her decision.
Grandma Wolfe reached out and took Jocelyn’s cold hands in both of hers.
“It was not a skiing accident,” Grandma Wolfe said, her voice trembling slightly. “It was a massive multi-car pileup in Europe. Three years ago p>
Jocelyn’s heart skipped a beat. She stared at her grandmother, her eyes widening.
“His car was crushed beneath a commercial transport truck,” Grandma Wolfe continued. “The steel collapsed around him. He was trapped in that wreckage, bleeding, for five straight hours p>
A sharp, physical pain stabbed through Jocelyn’s chest. She gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.
“The doctors told his father they had to amputate his right leg to save his life,” Grandma Wolfe said, tears pooling in her own eyes.
Jocelyn’s vision blurred. The image of Gaston — so tall, so impossibly strong — lying broken in a hospital bed shattered something deep inside her. A sob tore from her throat.