Chapter 585
Chapter 584:
“The master bedroom and the bathrooms are strictly off-limits,” he said, his voice cutting through the room’s noise like a blade. It was not a request. “The contract specifies those as absolute red zones. If I see a single lens pointed in that direction, I will personally throw it out the window p>
Penelope rushed over, nodding rapidly. “Absolutely, Mr. Collins. We completely respect those boundaries. All cameras are remote-operated — no crew will be in the apartment during filming. We are ghosts, I promise p>
Across the room, a technician crouched beneath the kitchen island, carefully adjusting a tiny lens embedded in the marble base to ensure it would capture the cooking area cleanly.
Jocelyn rested a hand on her slightly rounded stomach and leaned back into Gaston’s chest. “I feel like a butterfly pinned to a board under a microscope,” she whispered.
Gaston lifted his head and pressed a warm kiss to her temple. “You are not a butterfly, Jo,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “You are a queen. This is your palace. They are just here to record the coronation p>
𝖣𝗼n’𝗍 𝘮𝗂ѕs 𝗇𝘦𝗐 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝘦a𝘀e𝘀 о𝘯 𝘨𝗮𝗅ոо𝗏𝘦𝗅𝘴.с𝘰𝘮
A small, genuine smile crossed her face. The knot of anxiety in her chest loosened by a fraction, though the nervous flutter remained.
“Setup complete!” the technician beneath the counter called out.
Penelope clapped her hands together. “Excellent. All equipment is installed and calibrated. The live stream begins tomorrow morning at exactly eight o’clock p>
With brisk efficiency, the crew packed their toolkits and filed out. The heavy penthouse door clicked shut behind them.
The apartment fell into an abrupt, almost unnatural silence. The afternoon sun still poured through the windows. The furniture sat exactly as it always had. But the air felt different — heavier, somehow. The invisible electronic eyes hidden in the shadows made the familiar space feel vast and strangely exposed.
The morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting bright, geometric patterns across the hardwood floor of the penthouse. It was 7:59 AM. The apartment was perfectly still.
Behind the high-end espresso machine, a tiny red light blinked to life. The hidden camera activated. The live stream countdown began.
At exactly 8:00 AM, the stream titled “The Collins Heir” went live. Initially, only a few hundred internal platform employees and media monitors were watching.
On the screen, Jocelyn walked into the open-concept kitchen. She wore a soft, cream-colored cashmere robe, her hair piled loosely into a messy bun. She wore no makeup. Her skin, glowing in the natural morning light, looked flawless. She took a slow breath. She knew that to build the narrative she wanted, the first move had to be one of calculated vulnerability. The effortless look was, in fact, her most carefully constructed armor.
She moved with easy grace toward the massive stainless-steel refrigerator.
The live chat erupted with the first wave of comments.
“My god, she’s pregnant and she still looks that good without makeup p>
“Is this really a billionaire’s kitchen? It looks like an Apple Store p>
Jocelyn pulled out a carton of organic free-range eggs and a loaf of artisan whole-wheat bread, then moved to the stove and cracked the eggs into a bowl with practiced ease.