Chapter 444
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Chapter 444:
Gaston looked down at the image. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked violently under his skin. He let out a dark, humorless scoff.
“Chloe Monroe,” Gaston spat the name out like it was poison.
He looked back at Jocelyn, his dark eyes burning with absolute sincerity. “She used to be my concierge doctor. She cornered me today, trying to probe into our marriage. I told her you take perfect care of me, and I walked away p>
Gaston raised his right hand, his fingers grazing Jocelyn’s cheek. “I have zero patience for that woman. If she made you uncomfortable for even one second, Jocelyn, say the word. I will make sure her medical license is revoked by tomorrow morning. She will never practice in Manhattan again p>
Jocelyn stared into his eyes. She saw the raw, desperate need for her to believe him.
The last tiny, irrational sliver of doubt in her chest completely evaporated. A genuine, warm laugh bubbled up from her throat.
Jocelyn reached up and cupped Gaston’s cold face in her hands.
“I believe you, Gaston,” she said softly, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “Leave her alone. I actually want to see what kind of stupid game she thinks she can play p>
𝖳𝗋𝘦n𝖽𝗂𝗻 оn
Gaston stared at her. The absolute, unshakable confidence radiating from his wife hit him like a physical blow. It was the most intoxicating thing he had ever seen.
He gripped her waist, lifted her effortlessly off the stool, and set her down on the cold marble counter. He stepped into her space, crushing his mouth against hers. The kiss was hot, desperate, and completely devoted.
The next evening.
Inside the Wolfe Hotel’s executive suite, the air was thick with tension.
Carmen Golden sat behind her desk, staring blankly at a massive spreadsheet for the Series B financing. Her brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
Her cousin Ferris had just stormed out of her office. He had spent twenty minutes screaming at her, warning her to stay away from the “dirty politician” and his “bastard son.” The sheer venom in Ferris’s voice had made Carmen’s stomach churn with nausea.
Suddenly, her private cell phone vibrated violently against the wood.
The caller ID flashed: Senator Justin Collins.
Carmen took a sharp breath. She prepared her most sterile, professional voice to reject whatever dinner invitation he was about to offer, and swiped to answer.
“Senator, I am currently p>
“Carmen p>
Justin’s voice wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t calculated. It was a raw, jagged rasp of pure terror.
In the background, Carmen heard the frantic, high-pitched screaming of medical monitors.
“Aaden’s having another attack,” Justin choked out, his voice breaking. “We’re on our way to Mt. Sinai now. The doctors think it’s severe acute asthma. He can barely breathe. My staff is everywhere, and if they see him like this it will cause a media panic. You were the only one I could think to call p>
The solid gold Montblanc pen slipped from Carmen’s fingers. It hit the desk with a sharp crack, splattering dark blue ink across the pristine financial reports.
Carmen’s brain completely flatlined.