Chapter 539
Chapter 538:
Slowly, Gaston’s eyes filled with moisture. A single, scalding tear broke free and tracked down his sharp cheekbone.
His knees gave out.
Gaston Collins sank to the floor. He dropped to one knee on the Persian rug and reached out with shaking, reverent hands to gently grip Jocelyn’s hips. He pressed his face directly against her flat stomach.
A raw, broken sob tore from his throat, muffled against the fabric of her dress — the sound of ten years of pain, obsession, and terror finally fracturing apart, giving way at last to an unimaginable joy.
𝖳𝗵e 𝖻е𝘀𝘁 r𝘦a𝗱𝗂ո𝘨 𝘦xpеr𝗶𝘦ոсe o𝗇
Jocelyn ran her fingers slowly through his dark hair, her gaze drifting out over the still, dark waters of the lake. They had finally, truly survived.
The atmosphere inside the presidential suite had completely shifted. The heavy, agonizing tension was gone, replaced by a frantic, buzzing energy.
Gaston stood up, grabbed three plush velvet pillows from the armchair, and aggressively shoved them behind Jocelyn’s back where she sat on the sofa.
“Gaston,” Jocelyn laughed, trying to push one away. “I am four weeks pregnant. I am not made of spun glass p>
“You are carrying the heir to the Collins empire,” Gaston corrected, his voice dead serious, though his eyes shone with a manic, uncontainable joy. “You are currently the most valuable asset on the planet. Do not argue with me p>
He turned his back to her and pulled the heavy encrypted satellite phone from his briefcase. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. He hit the speed dial for his father’s private line.
“Elbert,” Gaston barked the moment the line clicked open. He didn’t sound like a CEO. He sounded like a man who had just conquered the world. “Liquidate whatever you need to and prepare the primary trust funds. You are going to be a grandfather p>
A violent coughing fit erupted on the other end of the line. Jocelyn could hear the sharp thwack of Elbert’s silver cane striking a hardwood floor in shock.
Gaston hung up before his father could recover.
His thumbs flew across his smartphone screen. He opened the Titan Club — the ultra-exclusive, encrypted group chat populated by the fifty most ruthless hedge fund managers, tech billionaires, and political power brokers in the world. Normally, the chat was reserved for hostile takeover strategies and macroeconomic shifts.
Gaston snapped a photo of the lab report, blurring out the medical details but leaving the POSITIVE result glaringly obvious. He hit send and typed a single caption: The next ruler of Wall Street is currently under construction. Bow accordingly.
The chat, usually a slow drip of calculated information, exploded. Dozens of notifications pinged in rapid succession. The most powerful men in America flooded the thread with shocked congratulations and curses aimed at Gaston’s arrogance.
Carter, Gaston’s head of security and oldest friend, replied: Are you seriously posting ultrasound updates in the Titan room? You have lost your absolute mind. This is disgusting PDA.
Gaston smirked and typed back instantly: Jealousy is the epitaph of losers, Carter. Try finding a woman who doesn’t hate you first.