Chapter 256
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Chapter 256:
Jocelyn looked at Gaston’s back, a flicker of surprise and gratitude warming her chest. He understood. He wasn’t trying to erase her identity — he was fortifying it.
He stood looking out at the skyline, still on the phone.
“Buy the ad space,” he said. “Yes. The digital billboard across from the Plaza Hotel. I want the rotation locked for two hours starting at 6 PM p>
He hung up and turned around.
𝘋o𝘄𝗇𝗹𝗼𝘢𝘥ab𝗹e рD𝘍𝘀 𝗈n
“Which ad space?” Jocelyn asked, capping her pen.
“The one directly facing the reception entrance,” Gaston said, with the faintest wink. “Just in case the projector inside fails. I want a backup p>
“You bought a billboard?” Jocelyn laughed — a sound of pure disbelief and delight.
“I called in a favor with the company’s chairman,” Gaston corrected smoothly. “It was faster p>
He walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We are thorough. We leave no cracks for them to crawl through p>
Back at the Schneider house, Aspen was in her bedroom, practicing her smile in the vanity mirror.
Chin down. Eyes wide. Vulnerable.
Her phone buzzed on the marble counter. An unknown number.
She opened the message.
Unknown: Enjoy your big day. It’s your last.
Aspen dropped the phone. It clattered against her perfume bottles.
“Who is this?” she whispered to the empty room.
She snatched it up and hit call.
Beep. Beep. We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is disconnected.
Paranoia — cold and slippery — coiled around her throat. She looked at the shadows in the corner of the room. They seemed to stretch, reaching for her.
“Just a prank,” she told her reflection. Her face was pale. “Just a hater. Probably Jocelyn trying to scare me p>
She forced herself to smile again. But the reflection stared back with terrified eyes.
Chin down. Eyes wide.
It looked like a mask that was about to slip.
The sky over New York City was the color of wet slate. Rain lashed against the windows of the stretch limousine, blurring the world into streaks of gray and red taillights.
Kieran Douglas checked his watch for the third time in a minute.
“We’re late,” he snapped.
“Traffic is gridlocked on 5th Avenue, sir,” the driver said, his eyes darting nervously to the rearview mirror. “There’s an accident up ahead p>
“Take the side streets,” Kieran barked, adjusting his silk tie. His fingers wouldn’t stop twitching. “I can’t be late to my own wedding. The bishop is on a schedule p>
“Yes, sir p>
The driver yanked the wheel to the right. The long car swerved, tires hissing on the wet asphalt, and turned onto a narrow street lined with brownstones.
It happened in a blink.
A delivery scooter — bright yellow and moving far too fast — shot out from a blind alley.
“Watch out!” Greg, the Best Man and a college friend of Kieran’s, yelled from the opposite seat.
The driver slammed the brakes and jerked the wheel hard to the left to avoid the rider. The heavy limousine lost traction. It slid sideways in a graceful, terrifying drift.
Thump.