Chapter 129
Chapter 129:
Elouise was at the spa, attempting to massage away the stress of being removed from her own daughter’s hotel. “No! I haven’t seen them! Why are you yelling at me p>
Robert hung up. His other line rang immediately. His banker.
“Mr. Schneider, your line of credit has been frozen pending a review of your collateral. We received a tip regarding some instability in your assets p>
It was a coordinated attack. A siege, executed overnight with surgical precision.
Uncle Vincent’s name flashed on his cell a moment later. “Bad news. Elouise hit Jocelyn on Friday p>
𝗗on’𝗍 𝗆і𝘀ѕ ոе𝘸 𝗋𝘦𝘭еа𝘴𝘦𝘀 𝗈𝗇
“So?” Robert snapped. “She hits her all the time p>
“Jocelyn is married to Gaston Collins, you idiot,” Vincent said, his voice low and careful. “The so-called gay husband is actually very protective. He was at the gala on Saturday looking for blood p>
Robert connected the dots in rapid succession. The slap. The land deal. The frozen credit line.
“She slapped a billionaire’s wife,” he whispered, the full weight of it landing on him at once.
“I need to fix this.” He grabbed his coat.
In Collins Tower, Gaston sat at the head of the boardroom table, immaculately composed.
Vance slipped in and bent toward his ear. “Schneider is in the lobby. He is demanding to see you p>
Gaston didn’t blink. “Let him wait p>
“How long?” Vance asked.
“Until he learns patience,” Gaston said. “Six hours p>
The board members exchanged glances. Gaston looked up and offered a cold smile. “Shall we discuss the Q3 projections p>
Downstairs, Robert paced the marble lobby floor. He tried calling Kieran for help.
Kieran didn’t answer. He was busy combing through Jocelyn’s social media, searching for any clue about the photoshoot.
Robert stared at his phone and understood, for the first time, that he was entirely on his own.
Three hours passed. Robert had paced a groove into the floor. His legs ached. He was thirsty.
He approached the receptionist again. “Is he free yet p>
“Mr. Collins is very busy. Please take a seat,” she said, not looking up from her screen.
Employees walked past in the lobby, whispering. They recognized him. Robert Schneider — titan of industry — waiting like a scolded schoolboy. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back.
A delivery man arrived carrying sushi for the executive floor. The smell drifted past Robert and his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten. He thought briefly about stepping out to find food, then decided against it, afraid of missing his window. He stayed. A prisoner of his own desperation.
Finally, at 4 PM, Vance appeared.
“Mr. Schneider. Follow me,” he said, without a smile.
They took the private elevator. The ascent was fast enough to pop Robert’s ears. He caught his reflection in the polished doors and tried to straighten his tie. He looked haggard.
The office was vast, its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the park in the late afternoon light.
Gaston was at his desk, signing papers. He did not look up.
Robert stood in the center of the room, unsure where to put his hands. “Mr. Collins p>