Chapter 241
“`
– For each row, replace every instance of “Chapter 241” with “Chapter N” (where N is that row’s chapter number). Do not alter any other text, HTML attributes, or formatting.
Chapter 241:
He didn’t answer with words. He reached out and tipped her chin up. His thumb brushed her lower lip — a rough, unhurried touch that made her breath catch.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was deep and hungry, a claiming. He kissed her like he wanted to breathe for her. Jocelyn melted into him, her hands clutching the lapels of his jacket, the world narrowing to the heat of his mouth and the cold wind on her face.
Inside the club, Kieran Douglas was storming toward the exit.
He had left the chips behind. He had left his dignity on the green felt. His face burned with a humiliation so physical it felt like a sunburn. He needed to get out. He needed a reason why this wasn’t a total defeat.
He shoved past a waiter near the balcony doors and glanced through the glass.
He stopped.
On the balcony, in the shadows, Gaston Collins was kissing a woman.
Kieran squinted. The woman was almost entirely hidden beneath a large suit jacket. He couldn’t see her face. He couldn’t see her hair. He could only see that she was small, her posture yielding, melting into Collins’s embrace.
His mind raced. He had watched Gaston lead Jocelyn toward the balcony — but now, desperate for any advantage, his memory began quietly rewriting itself. Jocelyn had looked pale, sick. Of course she would have slipped away to compose herself. She must have gone to the restroom, and Collins had simply followed a moment later with someone else entirely.
𝗥еа𝗱 𝘸𝘪𝗍𝘩o𝗎𝘁 і𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗋𝗋𝘂p𝗍і𝗈n𝘴 𝗈𝗇
So who was this woman?
A slow, twisted smirk formed on Kieran’s lips.
He remembered the rumors. The arranged marriage. The mystery woman Collins had supposedly been involved with before Jocelyn re-entered the picture.
He’s cheating on his new wife, Kieran thought, the realization hitting him like a shot of pure dopamine. Or worse — Jocelyn is the placeholder. That woman on the balcony is the real one. The one he keeps hidden.
It made perfect sense. Jocelyn was just a pawn. A public distraction. The woman in the shadows was the real arrangement.
The humiliation in his chest began to recede, replaced by a dark, vindictive thrill. Jocelyn wasn’t winning. She was being played. She was just another temporary fixture — a placeholder until the real wife stepped forward.
He raised his phone and aimed the camera through the glass. The lighting was poor, the image grainy, but clear enough: Gaston Collins, locked in an embrace with a woman who was entirely concealed beneath that jacket.
Click.
He looked at the photo. Blurry, but incriminating enough.
“Enjoy your secret, Collins,” Kieran muttered.
He turned and walked toward the elevator, his stride lengthening with renewed purpose. He wasn’t the loser tonight. Jocelyn was. And he couldn’t wait to show her.
On the balcony, Gaston pulled back. He rested his forehead against hers.
“We should go,” he said, his voice rough. “Before my mother calls p>
Jocelyn blinked, coming back to herself. She pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders.
“Is she angry p>