Chapter 327
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Chapter 327:
Kieran slowly set the phone down.
The terror in his chest began to curdle into something darker — a cold, obsessive paranoia. If Gaston had been fixated on Jocelyn for over a year, there had to be a reason. A trigger. An origin point.
Kieran dialed the number of the most ruthless corporate espionage firm in Manhattan.
“I need a deep dive,” Kieran said the moment the line connected, his voice a dead, hollow whisper. “Every detail of Gaston Collins’ life. Start with his years at the Ivy League. Find me his weakness. Find me the crack in his armor p>
He hung up and stared at the amber liquid in his glass, resolving to drag Gaston’s secrets into the light.
Saturday afternoon brought a crisp, salty breeze to the elite coastal town of Newport, Rhode Island.
A black private helicopter bearing the Collins family crest touched down smoothly on the manicured lawns of a sprawling, century-old estate. Gaston stepped out first, the rotors whipping his dark hair, then turned and offered his hand to Jocelyn.
оr𝘨𝗮𝘯іz𝗲 𝗒𝗈𝘂𝗿 𝗹i𝖻rаr𝗒 oո.с𝗼𝘮
She stepped down wearing a breathtaking, custom-tailored navy blue evening gown that Gaston had personally selected. The deep color highlighted her pale skin perfectly and concealed the fading marks on her collarbone.
They were attending the wedding of Carter, Gaston’s former roommate from his Ivy League days. The estate was thick with old-money billionaires and political titans.
The moment Gaston entered the grand ballroom with Jocelyn on his arm, the atmosphere shifted. He was the undisputed king of this social circle. Men in tuxedos moved forward to shake his hand, their eyes filled with deference. Gaston kept one heavy, possessive arm wrapped around Jocelyn’s waist throughout, introducing her to everyone as his wife, his voice carrying a dark, territorial pride that sent a thrill of adrenaline through her. The power this man wielded was intoxicating.
Halfway through the lavish reception dinner, the groom, Carter, stumbled over to their table. He was clutching a bottle of vintage champagne and looked thoroughly intoxicated.
“Gaston, you absolute bastard!” Carter laughed, slapping Gaston on the shoulder. “I still cannot believe you beat me to the altar! The biggest monk in Harvard Law history is a married man p>
Jocelyn paused, her champagne flute halfway to her lips. She raised an eyebrow.
“Monk?” she asked, looking at Carter with genuine curiosity.
Carter let out a booming laugh and leaned heavily against the table.
“Oh, you don’t know?” Carter slurred, oblivious to the sudden, lethal warning glare Gaston leveled at him. “For four years, Gaston was a machine. He never went to fraternity parties. He rejected every single heiress who threw herself at him. We literally thought he was asexual or planning to join a monastery p>
Jocelyn’s heart skipped a beat. She turned and stared at Gaston.
This contradicted entirely the playboy image the tabloids had painted of him.
Gaston’s jaw clenched tight enough to crack a tooth. His eyes were dark and suddenly, uncharacteristically panicked.