Chapter 259
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Chapter 259:
Gaston pulled out his phone and sent a single text to a secure number.
In the AV booth, a technician from Collins Media — who had replaced the hotel’s regular staff an hour earlier under the guise of a broadcast systems upgrade — typed a single command. He had had the entire network under his control for days.
The screen flickered. Static hissed through the speakers, loud and jarring.
Then a video began to play.
It was not a romantic beach in Paris. It was not a proposal.
𝗧𝗵е 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘁 𝗽о𝗽𝘶𝗅а𝘳 𝗇𝘰𝘷𝗲𝗹s on
The footage was high-definition, full color, with crisp audio. The timestamp in the corner read: Last Tuesday.
A security camera angle from a street corner filled the screen. A woman in a trench coat and sunglasses stood handing a thick envelope of cash to a man in a hotel uniform.
The camera zoomed in. The woman pushed her sunglasses up onto her head.
It was Aspen Schneider.
The man was Branden Cole.
“Make sure she drinks it.” Aspen’s voice, captured by a parabolic microphone from a van parked across the street, was unmistakable. “I want photos of her passed out. Drooling. I want her ruined before the weekend p>
The ballroom fell completely silent. A fork dropped onto a china plate, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.
On the screen, Branden Cole pocketed the cash. “And my record? You’ll take care of it p>
“Just do the job,” Aspen’s voice was cold. “You’ll be rewarded. Fail, and you’ll wish you were back in jail p>
The video ended, freezing on a close-up of Aspen’s face — her expression a mask of venomous ambition.
Aspen shot to her feet at the head table, knocking her chair over. It clattered to the floor.
“Stop it! Turn it off!” she screamed, her face contorted, the mask of the blushing bride shattered beyond repair.
She looked frantically toward the technician’s booth. “Cut the power! Do something p>
The technician spread his hands helplessly, pressing buttons that did nothing. “It’s locked out, ma’am. The system’s been overridden p>
Kieran stared at the screen. He was frozen. His head throbbed in rhythm with the horror unfolding in his chest.
He had known Branden Cole was hired by Aspen — but Aspen had assured him she had no intention of actually harming Jocelyn. The proof was right there. In high definition. In front of his friends, his family, and all of New York high society.
“That’s… you?” Kieran pointed a trembling finger at the screen, then turned to look at his wife. “You paid him? To drug her p>
“It’s fake! It’s AI! A deepfake!” Aspen seized Kieran’s arm, her nails digging into his suit jacket. “Someone made this to ruin me — Jocelyn did this! It’s not real p>
“It looks real,” a guest whispered, loudly enough for several tables to hear.
Before Aspen could press her denial any further, the screen flickered again. The image changed.