Chapter 268
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Chapter 268:
The hallway was freezing. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Jocelyn pressed her back against the cold, painted cinder block wall, the chill seeping through her sweater and matching the ice in her veins.
“The diagnosis is Alzheimer’s disease,” Dr. Evans said, holding the chart. “The prolonged coma accelerated the atrophy in her hippocampus. The memory loss is irreversible. She will regain consciousness, but the decline will continue p>
Jocelyn slid down the wall until she was sitting on the linoleum floor, knees pulled to her chest. The hope she had felt ten minutes ago had been ripped from her, leaving a gaping, hollow wound.
Gaston did not sit. He took the diagnostic report from the doctor’s hand and scanned the medical jargon, his eyes cold and analytical.
𝗠o𝗌𝘵 𝘳е𝗮𝘥 𝘵𝗵𝗂s 𝗐𝗲𝗲k о𝗇
“What is the most aggressive intervention protocol available globally?” he asked. His voice held no panic — it was the voice of a man accustomed to buying solutions.
Dr. Evans hesitated. “There are experimental treatments in Switzerland, but she needs consistent, round-the-clock care first p>
Gaston pulled out his phone and dialed.
“Vance,” he said. “I need a private medical team assembled within the hour. Top-tier neurologists. Twenty-four-hour nursing staff. Money is not a variable. Get it done p>
He hung up. He looked down at Jocelyn, then crouched in front of her on the hospital floor, ignoring what it was doing to his suit. He reached out and cupped her face, tilting it up until she met his eyes.
“You are not fighting this alone,” Gaston said.
The panic in her chest eased, just a fraction. She nodded.
They walked back into the room.
Grandma was agitated, pulling at the clear plastic IV tube taped to the back of her hand.
“No — leave that alone.” Jocelyn rushed forward, gently catching her grandmother’s wrists. “You need the medicine p>
Grandma stopped struggling. Her gaze drifted past Jocelyn to where Gaston stood near the door. A flicker of confusion crossed her face. “Who… who are you p>
The blood drained from Jocelyn’s face. Her stomach dropped. She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. How could she explain a contract marriage to a woman lost in time?
Gaston didn’t miss a beat. He walked directly to the bed, took the old woman’s hand, and held it gently between both of his.
“I’m Gaston, ma’am,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “I’m a friend of Jocelyn’s. I promised her I’d help take care of you.” He smiled — a flawless, reassuring smile. “She worries a great deal, you know. It’s my job to make sure she’s not doing it all by herself p>
Jocelyn stared at him, her mouth slightly open. He had sidestepped the lie entirely, replacing it with a truth that was both simpler and more profound.
Grandma studied his face for a long moment. Then her expression softened. “You have kind eyes. You make sure you take care of my girl. She works too hard p>
“I promise you,” Gaston said. His voice dropped lower. He turned his head and looked directly at Jocelyn, his eyes intense and unwavering. “I will take care of her for the rest of my life p>