Chapter 130
Chapter 130:
Gaston finished a signature. He capped his pen with a sharp, deliberate click and looked up. His eyes were utterly empty of warmth — flat, still surfaces that reflected nothing back.
“You wanted the Hudson Yards plot,” Gaston said.
“Yes. It is vital for our project,” Robert stammered.
“I own it now,” Gaston replied. “I am turning it into a community garden p>
Robert’s mouth opened and closed. “A garden? On prime real estate? That is — that is insane. You are throwing away millions p>
“I like flowers,” Gaston said. “My wife likes flowers p>
Robert swallowed. “Is this about the… incident? With Elouise p>
Gaston rose from his chair. Standing, he dominated the room entirely.
𝘍o𝗹𝗅𝗈𝘸 𝘂𝗌 o𝗇 𝘨𝖺𝗅ոo𝗏еl𝗌.𝖼o𝗆
“Incident?” he repeated, his voice dropping to something soft and deeply unpleasant. “Is that what you call assault p>
“She is emotional!” Robert tried, clutching at a weak laugh. “Women, you know how they p>
Gaston’s expression stopped him mid-sentence and drained the words from his throat.
“If your wife ever comes near my wife again,” Gaston said, each word measured and deliberate, “I won’t just buy your land. I will buy your debt. I will buy your house. I will foreclose on your life p>
He pointed to the door. “Get out p>
Robert stormed into his penthouse. Elouise was on the sofa, martini in hand.
He knocked the glass from her fingers. It shattered against the wall, olives rolling across the carpet.
“Are you insane?!” Elouise shrieked, leaping to her feet.
“You cost me fifty million dollars today!” Robert’s face had gone a deep, ugly purple. He seized her by the shoulders. “You hit Jocelyn. And Gaston Collins took my land. That land was the collateral for our entire Hudson Yards financing package — its loss triggers penalties that could cost us everything. He froze my credit. He is threatening to bankrupt us p>
Elouise went pale. Her mouth opened and closed. “He did that for her? But it’s a fake marriage. Everyone knows he is p>
“He said if you touch her again, he will end us,” Robert said, shaking her. “Apologize to her. Fix it p>
“I will not apologize to my own daughter!” Elouise snapped, trying to wrench herself free.
“Then get out,” Robert said flatly, pointing to the door. “I am not losing my company for your ego p>
Elouise went still. She looked at his eyes and found no room for negotiation. Her lifestyle, her status, her money — all of it balanced on a very thin edge.
Her hands were trembling as she reached for her phone.
Later, in the Collins penthouse, Jocelyn was curled on the sofa with a book. The swelling on her cheek had gone down, but the bruise had deepened into an ugly yellow-green.
From the kitchen came the sound of Gaston cooking pasta — the gentle clatter of a pan, the smell of something warm and savory drifting through the apartment. It was a domestic scene that felt almost surreal.
Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.
A text from Elouise: I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I will not come to the hotel again. — Elouise.