Chapter 395
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Chapter 395:
The lead detective slid a sealed transparent plastic bag across the metal counter. Inside sat the thirty-million-dollar Queen Marie necklace.
“Because the digital and video evidence chain is completely solidified, and Mr. Collins’s legal team filed a special motion, the District Attorney has authorized the early release of the stolen property to the victim,” the detective explained respectfully.
Jocelyn stared down at the bag. She was wearing thin black leather gloves.
She picked it up.
Her mind instantly flashed to the image of Victoria wearing the necklace in the washbasin, posing for the internet with that twisted, satisfied smile.
A wave of intense nausea hit her stomach.
The necklace was no longer a symbol of Gaston’s promise. It was contaminated — infected by Victoria’s greed, her cheap vanity, and the toxic legacy of the Stein family.
Jocelyn signed the release paperwork with a steady hand.
She turned away from the counter and walked toward the corner of the room, where a dented stainless steel municipal trash bin sat against the wall, half-filled with discarded coffee cups and greasy fast-food wrappers.
Without a single moment of hesitation, Jocelyn dropped the plastic bag containing the thirty-million-dollar necklace directly into the filthy trash.
The detective’s jaw dropped. He lurched forward, stuttering in absolute shock.
𝗕𝘦 𝗍𝘩е 𝗳𝗂𝗿𝗌𝘁 𝗍о 𝗋𝖾𝘢d 𝘰ո
“Mrs. Collins! That — that is thirty million dollars p>
Jocelyn calmly peeled the black leather gloves from her hands and dropped them into the bin on top of the necklace.
“Things that have been touched by garbage belong in the garbage,” Jocelyn said smoothly.
She turned on her heel and walked out of the precinct, leaving the stunned officers staring at the trash can.
She climbed into the back of the waiting Maybach, pulled out her phone, and texted the District Attorney: No plea deals. Full prosecution.
She locked her phone and thought of Carmen. She dialed Dr. Foster’s clinic. The receptionist confirmed that Ms. Golden had arrived and was currently preparing for her first EMDR session.
Across town, on the Upper East Side.
The clinic was incredibly quiet. The lights in the therapy room were dimmed to a soft, warm glow.
Carmen lay back on a plush leather recliner.
Dr. Foster sat in a chair beside her, his voice a low, rhythmic murmur guiding her to relax her tense muscles.
“Follow the light, Carmen,” Dr. Foster said softly.
He activated the EMDR light bar. A small LED dot began moving rapidly back and forth across the horizontal track.
Carmen’s eyes tracked the light. The rhythmic bilateral stimulation began to bypass her conscious defenses.
Her breathing slowed. The walls of the clinic faded away.
Her consciousness began to sink, plunging deep into the dark, terrifying abyss of her locked memories.
The next morning, a massive crowd of reporters and news vans choked the sidewalks outside the Manhattan Criminal Court.
They were all waiting for Victoria Stein’s preliminary bail hearing.
Elouise Stein pushed her way to the front of the barricades, wearing an outdated Chanel suit — instructed by Edward to play the grieving mother for the cameras.