Chapter 298
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Chapter 298:
Gaston lowered his head — not to her lips, but to her forehead. He pressed a warm, unhurried kiss there. A gesture of respect and restraint.
Then he straightened, composed himself, and smoothed his sweatpants.
“Your driver is waiting downstairs,” he said, with the faintest smile. “Have a good day at work, darling p>
Jocelyn grabbed her purse and walked briskly to the front door.
When the elevator closed behind her, she leaned back against the cold metal wall and pressed a hand to her chest. It ached with a dense, unfamiliar pressure. She stared at the descending floor numbers, turning over his words. Was the story about the arranged marriage true, or was it another perfectly constructed lie designed to keep her compliant? She hated the thought of being manipulated — and yet she could not shake the raw, unguarded sincerity she had seen in his eyes. She was sinking, she realized, into something far more complex and dangerous than a simple contract marriage.
Monday morning brought relentless, freezing rain to Manhattan.
Kieran sat behind his massive mahogany desk on the top floor of Douglas Tech, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows as grey water blurred the city skyline.
His face was a mask of dead, cold stone. His knuckles were still bruised and split from the steering wheel. The physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow, rotting sensation in his chest.
The heavy office doors burst open.
Aspen stormed in, her stiletto heels stabbing into the thick carpet. Her blonde hair was immaculate, but her face was twisted with desperate, ugly rage. She marched to his desk and slammed a thick legal document onto the polished wood.
“A restraining order?” she screamed, her voice cracking and echoing in the silent office. “Drafted by the Collins legal team? You let Gaston Collins’ bodyguards throw you onto the sidewalk outside a Michelin restaurant, and now you are letting them send me legal threats p>
𝘉𝖾 𝘁𝗁𝗲 f𝗶𝘳s𝗍 𝘵o r𝗲𝗮𝘥 𝗈𝘯
Kieran didn’t blink. He didn’t look at the document. He didn’t look at her.
He reached out with his bruised hand and pressed the intercom.
“Send security up,” he said. His voice was completely flat, mechanical. “I need a trespasser removed p>
Aspen’s eyes widened. The color drained from her face. She stepped back, hands shaking.
“Kieran, what are you doing?” she demanded, her voice dropping to a frantic whisper. “We are getting married in the Hamptons next month. The press is already printing the invitations p>
Kieran made a low, scraping sound. It was meant to be a laugh. It held nothing.
He pulled open the top drawer of his desk, took out a thick manila folder, and threw it. It hit the edge of the desk and spilled open at Aspen’s feet.
The bold black letters on the top page were impossible to miss: Termination of Engagement and Asset Severance Agreement.
“I already told you we were finished last week,” Kieran said, his voice a mechanical drone devoid of any feeling. “This is the formal legal paperwork. Did you honestly believe my disgust for you was temporary p>
Aspen stared at the page. Her breath hitched. She shook her head violently.