Chapter 17
Chapter 17:
A flicker of recognition sparked in the cloudy eyes. The old woman’s hand — cold and papery — reached out and touched Jocelyn’s face.
“Little Wolf,” she murmured. “You came back. Did you escape the snakes p>
“I’m trying, Grandma,” Jocelyn said, blinking back tears. “I got married. To get the trust p>
She pulled out her phone and held up the photo of the marriage certificate she had taken.
“See? Gaston — I married a man named Gaston p>
Grandma squinted at the screen. She didn’t read the full name. She looked at Jocelyn instead.
“A husband,” she whispered, as though rolling the word around in her mouth. “Good. Better than the Douglas boy. That one had cold hands.” Then her eyes drifted back to the paper. “Collins. A strong name. Much better than Schneider p>
𝖱e𝗰𝗈𝘮𝘮e𝗇𝗱 t𝘰 у𝘰𝗎r 𝖿rie𝗻d𝗌
Jocelyn’s breath caught. Collins? She hadn’t noticed the last name on the document — in her haste, her mind had registered only the official seal. She dismissed it. It had to be a common name. There was no way. Her mind was too preoccupied with the immediate threat of the Vincent dinner to entertain such an absurd possibility.
Suddenly, Grandma leaned forward. Her grip on Jocelyn’s hand tightened with surprising strength.
“They steal,” she hissed, glancing at the door. “Robert. Elouise. They steal the silver. They steal the time p>
“I know, Grandma p>
“You need insurance,” the old woman said. She fumbled with the cushion of her wheelchair, and her shaking hand emerged holding a small, tarnished brass key.
“Cellar,” she whispered, pressing the key into Jocelyn’s palm. “Third rack. Behind the Merlot. My mother’s box p>
“Grandma p>
“Take it,” she commanded, her voice suddenly sharp and lucid. “It’s not in the trust. It’s off the books. Go. Before the snake comes back p>
She pushed Jocelyn away and turned back to the window, retreating instantly into her fog.
Jocelyn kissed the woman’s withered hand. “Thank you p>
She slipped out of the room. The nurse was still scrolling on her iPad.
Jocelyn went down the back stairs to the wine cellar. It was damp and cold. She counted the racks. One. Two. Three.
She pushed aside the dusty bottles of 1998 Merlot. There, in a hollowed-out space in the brickwork, sat a small velvet box.
She opened it.
Even in the dim light, the diamonds blazed. A necklace — Art Deco, platinum and sapphires, heavy and unmistakably real. Easily worth half a million dollars.
Jocelyn closed the box and buried it deep in her purse.
She didn’t go back to the dining room. She walked straight out the back door to her car.
She had the house. She had the jewelry. And on Friday, she was going to have to face the Vincents.
Gaston sat in his office on the 50th floor of Collins Tower. The city lights of Manhattan spread below him like a carpet of diamonds, but he wasn’t looking at the view.
He was looking at his executive assistant, Marcus.
“Say that again,” Gaston said.