Chapter 318
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Chapter 318:
“You are not getting a single dime,” Kieran said. “Your father’s company is drowning in debt. Your net worth is negative p>
He walked around the desk, advancing until Aspen shrank back.
“Get out of my building,” Kieran whispered, his voice dripping with venom. “If you bother me again during this cooling-off period, I will hand the financial records of your father’s insider trading directly to the SEC. I will personally make sure your entire family wears orange jumpsuits p>
The word SEC struck Aspen like a physical blow. All the arrogant color drained from her face. She looked into Kieran’s cold, merciless eyes and understood he was not bluffing.
She spun around and practically ran for the door, her lawyers scrambling to keep up.
A few blocks away, in the serene, soundproofed penthouse office of the Collins Group, Gaston sat in his custom leather chair and watched a live video feed on his tablet, transmitted from a high-altitude drone hovering over Silicon Alley. The neon green light pulsed steadily against the glass face of the Douglas Tech building.
𝗥om𝗮nс𝖾 𝘢𝗻𝖽 𝗉a𝗌𝘀іo𝘯 𝗼𝘯.с𝗼𝗆
His executive assistant stood quietly by the door.
“Sir, the gossip blogs are already running wild,” the assistant reported. “They are speculating that the CEO of Douglas Tech has been severely compromised in his personal life p>
Gaston lifted a delicate porcelain cup of espresso and took a slow sip. A cold, satisfied smile curved his lips.
“This is just the appetizer,” Gaston murmured. “I am going to make sure Kieran Douglas cannot lift his head in this city p>
At noon, the black Maybach pulled up smoothly outside the Wolfe Hotel.
Jocelyn climbed into the back seat and immediately noticed the relaxed, almost radiant energy coming off Gaston. His dark eyes were bright. The heavy, intimidating aura he usually carried had completely lifted.
“You look entirely too happy,” Jocelyn said, buckling her seatbelt. “Did you just close a billion-dollar merger p>
Gaston leaned over, cupped her cheek, and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to her lips.
“No, darling,” Gaston said, his voice rich with private amusement. “I just finalized a project that is far more satisfying than money p>
Jocelyn studied him, confused but helplessly infected by his good mood. She smiled back.
As the Maybach eased into traffic toward a Michelin-starred restaurant, Gaston wrapped his arm around her and decided to keep his neon-green masterpiece a secret for just a little while longer. It was his own private, deeply satisfying revenge.
Tuesday afternoon at the Wolfe Hotel.
Jocelyn sat at her desk on the top floor, deeply focused, her eyes moving across a complex quarterly financial spreadsheet.
Without a single knock, the heavy oak door flew open.
Bella burst into the room like a hurricane, seven-inch stilettos and a frantic expression. She marched straight to Jocelyn’s desk and slammed an iced Americano down onto the wood. Her eyes were practically glowing with manic, gossip-fueled excitement.
“Drop the spreadsheets,” Bella ordered breathlessly.
She pulled out her phone, tapped the screen aggressively, and thrust it directly into Jocelyn’s face.
“Look at this,” Bella demanded.