Chapter 198
He pressed his lips fiercely to her forehead.
They set up an IV drip. Saline and vitamins began flowing into her arm. Jocelyn drifted into a restless sleep, her hand still curled around Gaston’s fingers.
Gaston sat beside her bed. After a moment, he picked up her phone from the side table.
The article was still open on the screen.
Schneider Family Severs Ties.
His eyes went to ice. A cold, absolute stillness settled over him.
He dialed Liam.
“Liam. Execute the final phase against Schneider Corp,” Gaston said.
A pause on the other end. “Sir? That will trigger a full SEC audit and asset seizure. It will be a bloodbath.”
Rea𝘥 o𝗇 𝗮ո𝗒 𝗱e𝗏𝘪се 𝗼n g𝘢l𝗻𝗈𝘃еlѕ.𝗰𝘰𝘮
“I don’t care about the cost,” Gaston said quietly. “I want them liquidated. Burn it to the ground.”
He hung up. He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair away from Jocelyn’s pale face, his touch impossibly gentle.
“They hurt you for the last time, ma chérie,” he vowed.
Jocelyn woke to the smell of chicken soup — rich and savory, cutting through the sterile hospital air.
The room was dim. An IV was taped to her arm.
Gaston sat in the chair beside the bed, reading a document on his tablet, brow furrowed. He noticed her stir and set the tablet aside immediately.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Welcome back.”
Jocelyn blinked, orienting herself. “How is Grandma?” was her first question.
“Stable,” Gaston said. “Sleeping next door. You gave us a scare.”
He reached over and uncovered a bowl on the bedside table. “Chicken soup. From the best deli in Manhattan. I sent a runner.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said, turning her head.
“Doctor’s orders,” Gaston said gently. “Or I’ll have to arrange a feeding tube. Trust me — the soup tastes better.”
She sighed and tried to sit up. Her body felt leaden. Gaston rose and adjusted her pillows, easing her upright.
He spooned the soup and held it to her lips.
“Eat,” he said quietly.
She opened her mouth. The soup was warm and salty. It tasted like comfort.
He fed her slowly, with patience in every movement. It was intimate — too intimate for a contract marriage. Too intimate for a man who was supposed to be gay.
“Gaston,” she said softly, between spoonfuls. “Why do you care so much? The contract doesn’t require this.”
Gaston paused, the spoon hovering in the air. He looked at her.
“Maybe I like taking care of you,” he said.
“But you’re gay,” she said. The confusion in her eyes was entirely genuine. “You don’t like women.”
Gaston set the bowl down. He looked at her steadily, frustration simmering behind his dark eyes.
“People are complicated, Jocelyn. Sometimes what you think you know about someone isn’t the whole story,” he said, choosing each word with care.
“Complicated?” she repeated.
“Let’s say I’m finding myself interested in things I didn’t expect to be.” He leaned slightly closer. “Specifically, in one person.”
.