Chapter 247
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Chapter 247:
“She’s bluffing about it being real,” Kieran said. “I’ve had people checking the civil records and the Collins family trust filings. There’s no official marriage license registered with the state, and her name isn’t listed as a primary beneficiary. It’s a sham, Aspen. He hasn’t legally tied himself to her p>
“So it’s all for show,” Aspen said, exhaling with relief. “She’ll show up with him and they’ll perform for the cameras p>
“I’ll expose him at the reception,” Kieran said. “It will be very satisfying p>
Jocelyn walked out through the hospital doors into the cool afternoon air. A chill ran down her spine.
She pulled out her phone and texted Gaston:
Aspen knows I’m coming. The clock is ticking.
His reply arrived ten seconds later.
Let it tick. Boom.
Jocelyn smiled and got into her car.
Across the street, in a parked sedan, Branden lowered his binoculars.
He made a note in his small black book.
𝖠𝗱𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍i𝘃𝗲 𝘀to𝘳𝗶e𝘀 o𝗇
Target is confident. Texting constantly — likely communicating with the husband. Subject appears to be planning a confrontation at the Schneider wedding.
He started the engine and pulled into traffic behind her.
The hunt was on.
The lobby of the Wolfe Hotel was buzzing. Branden was everywhere at once — directing bellhops, charming guests, smoothing over complaints before they could become problems.
He saw Jocelyn enter and immediately materialized at her side, holding a steaming cup of coffee.
“Oat milk latte, two pumps of vanilla,” he said. “And I reorganized the shift schedules for next week. Saved us ten percent on overtime p>
Jocelyn took the cup. “Good work, Branden. You’re a lifesaver p>
“Just doing my job, Ms. Wolfe,” he smiled. It was a practiced smile, calibrated to disarm.
The revolving doors spun. Gaston walked in.
He stopped.
His eyes found Branden standing beside Jocelyn. He registered the coffee. The smile. The proximity. The unmistakable posture of a man making himself indispensable.
Gaston’s expression flattened. The temperature in the lobby seemed to drop several degrees. He crossed the floor with a long, deliberate stride.
“Who is this?” Gaston asked. His voice was low — carrying a frequency that only other men could read.
“My new Floor Manager,” Jocelyn said, entirely oblivious to the tension between them. “Branden, this is Mr. Collins p>
Branden extended his hand. “An honor, sir p>
Gaston ignored it. He looked Branden over slowly, methodically, the way a man takes inventory of a threat.
“Floor Manager,” Gaston said. “Then manage the floor. Not the owner p>
Branden withdrew his hand without breaking his smile. Jealous type, he noted. Good to know.
“Of course, sir.” He inclined his head slightly and retreated.
“You were rude,” Jocelyn said under her breath as they walked toward the elevators.
“I don’t like him,” Gaston said. “He smiles too much. It doesn’t reach his eyes p>
“He’s competent. Relax p>
She led him into her office. He followed, closed the door, and locked it behind him. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a long velvet box.
“I have something for you,” he said, and opened it.
Jocelyn gasped.
Inside lay a diamond necklace that seemed to generate its own light. The stones were massive, teardrop-shaped, set in platinum. It looked like it belonged in a museum.
“Gaston. This is too much,” she whispered.