Chapter 231
The living room was dim, lit by the low glow of the floor lamps and the city lights bleeding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Justin Collins was seated in the leather armchair near the fireplace, a file folder open on his lap and a glass of water on the side table. He looked up as they entered — calm, composed, the precise opposite of the hurricane that had just walked through the door.
He removed his reading glasses and folded them slowly. For a fraction of a second, as he took in Carmen’s ruined makeup and the hollowed-out look in her eyes, a flicker of raw fury crossed his face — the ice-cold rage of a man seeing something he considers his own violated. He buried it beneath a mask of cool indifference.
“I see the negotiations failed,” he said. His voice was dry.
𝘛h𝗲 𝗯e𝘴𝘁 𝗋𝗲𝘃i𝗲w𝘴 𝘰n 𝗀𝘢𝘭𝘯о𝘃𝖾𝗹ѕ.co𝗺
Gaston stepped in from the elevator, carrying Carmen’s coat. He shot his brother a look sharp enough to cut glass.
“Justin, be nice,” Gaston said. “She’s had a hell of a night.”
Carmen blinked, trying to focus her swollen eyes on the man in the armchair. As her gaze landed on him, she winced and pressed her fingers against her temple. She swayed slightly.
“Who’s the suit?” she said, pointing an unsteady finger in his direction. “Another liar?”
Justin rose. He was tall and imposing in his white dress shirt and dark trousers, and he didn’t look remotely offended — more like a scientist observing a volatile chemical reaction.
“I’m the brother,” he said. “And I’m brutally honest.”
“Good,” Carmen muttered. She kicked off her heels. One of them hit the wall with a satisfying thud. “I hate men right now.”
She walked past him, straight toward the bar cart in the corner, moving with the reckless determination of someone intent on numbing everything from the neck down. She didn’t bother with ceremony — she grabbed a tumbler, poured three fingers of whiskey, and downed it in one gulp.
She coughed violently. Her chest heaved. She set the glass down on the cart with a sharp crack.
“It burns,” she rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Good.”
Jocelyn steered her to the velvet sofa. Carmen sank into it, her body going boneless. Jocelyn settled beside her and began rubbing slow circles on her back.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Jocelyn said softly.
Carmen stared at the ceiling, her eyes empty and glassy.
“I went to surprise him,” she said, her voice flat and stripped of inflection. “With takeout. Thai food. Pad Thai. His favorite.”
“And?” Jocelyn prompted.
“I found his secretary, Jessica,” Carmen said. “She was wearing my robe. And nothing else.”
Justin’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He leaned against the fireplace mantle and crossed his arms, saying nothing.
“He panicked,” Carmen continued, letting out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “He tried to cover himself with a throw pillow. A decorative pillow, Jo. It didn’t cover anything.”
She stared at her hands.
“I didn’t scream,” she said. “I just… walked up to them.”
She mimicked a slapping motion in the air.
.