Chapter 146
Chapter 146:
“I am very happy,” Jocelyn said, gathering her things. “If you’re not going to sign, I’m leaving p>
“Sit down!” Kieran snapped. He reached across and seized her hand. His grip was crushing.
“Let go, Kieran,” she warned. Her free hand dropped into her purse and closed around the pepper spray canister.
“I have the pen in the VIP room,” he said, rising and pulling her toward him. “We can sign it privately p>
“No p>
He yanked her arm. She stumbled. He began dragging her toward the back corridor, his grip iron-tight.
𝗝𝘰in 𝗼ur 𝘤𝘰m𝗺𝗎ni𝘁𝗒 𝘰ո
“You think you’re too good for me now?” he sneered. “With your gay husband? I know the truth, Jocelyn. You’re just a beard. A lonely beard p>
Kieran shoved Jocelyn into the empty VIP room and kicked the door shut behind them.
He pinned her against the wood paneling, his face twisted with entitlement and rage.
“You need me,” he hissed. “You need my money. You need a real man p>
Jocelyn didn’t hesitate. She didn’t cry.
She brought her knee up, hard. It connected with his groin — not a perfect strike, but enough to make him stagger.
Kieran howled and doubled over. But his hand lashed out on instinct.
The slap landed on her cheek — the same cheek her mother had struck. The pain was sharp and immediate.
Jocelyn stumbled back.
The door exploded inward.
It caught Kieran squarely in the back and sent him lurching forward.
Gaston stood in the doorway. No jacket. White shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. Chest heaving. He took in the entire scene in a single, cold instant — the red mark blooming on Jocelyn’s cheek, Kieran finding his footing.
He didn’t speak. He moved.
He crossed the room in a blur, grabbed Kieran by the throat, and drove him backward onto the dining table. Crystal glasses exploded. Plates flew. Silverware rained across the floor.
“You. Touched. Her,” Gaston said, his voice barely above a whisper.
He pulled his fist back and drove it into Kieran’s ribs.
The crack was sickening. Kieran screamed.
Gaston didn’t stop. A punch to the jaw snapped Kieran’s head back, and blood sprayed across the white tablecloth. Gaston straddled him and continued, relentless and precise. It wasn’t a fight. It was a demolition — cold, methodical, and without a shred of mercy.
“Gaston! Stop! You’ll kill him!” Jocelyn screamed.
The terror in her voice cut through the red haze. She grabbed his arm with both hands. “Gaston. Please p>
He froze. His fist hovered over Kieran’s bloodied face. His knuckles were split and bleeding.
He looked up at her. His eyes were wild, dilated, barely recognizable.
“He hit you,” Gaston panted.
“I know.” Tears streaked her face. “But if you kill him, you go to jail p>
Security guards burst through the door. “Break it up! NYPD is on the way p>
A man in a tailored suit who had been dining nearby pushed through the gathering crowd, his expression sharp and authoritative. “Sheriff Xander. Everyone back up.” His eyes swept the room and landed on Gaston. “Collins! Get off him p>