Chapter 338
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Chapter 338:
Carmen exhaled a massive breath of relief. “Thank you. I will pay whatever your PR team charges for your time p>
“I don’t need your money,” Justin said. His voice dropped an octave, laced with a dangerous, predatory warmth. “I will collect my payment from you personally, later p>
He hung up.
Carmen stared at her phone. A sudden chill ran down her spine.
Meanwhile, in Washington D.C., Justin Collins stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Capitol Hill office, looking at his phone screen with a slow, victorious smile spreading across his face.
His Chief of Staff rushed in holding a clipboard.
“Senator,” the aide said urgently. “We need to finalize your speech for the fundraising gala this Friday night p>
Justin didn’t turn around.
“Cancel my appearance,” Justin said flatly. “I have a private campaign event in New York p>
𝘋𝗈𝘸n𝗹𝗈a𝘥аble 𝖯𝖣F𝘀 o𝗇
The aide’s jaw dropped. “Sir, that gala is crucial for your reelection p>
Justin turned. His eyes were cold and absolute. The aide instantly closed his mouth and backed out of the room.
Justin walked to his mahogany desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. He removed a thick, unmarked manila folder. Inside was not a government document — it was something far more intimate and illegally obtained: Carmen’s complete medical and accident reports from seven years ago, procured through channels that money could buy and power could conceal. It detailed her horrific car crash and her dissociative amnesia in clinical, unsparing detail.
Justin traced his finger slowly over the photograph of Carmen’s face attached to the file. His eyes burned with a dark, obsessive intensity.
“You walked right into my trap, Carmen,” Justin whispered to the empty room. “I am never letting you go p>
Back in New York, Jocelyn sat alone in the quiet penthouse.
Her phone buzzed. It was a frantic text from Carmen, explaining the fake dating scheme with Justin in a breathless string of messages.
Jocelyn stared at the screen in shock.
Compared to the terrifying political storm Carmen was about to walk into, Jocelyn’s own marriage to Gaston suddenly felt remarkably normal.
Friday evening. The atmosphere inside the private dining room of Le Bernardin, Manhattan’s most exclusive seafood restaurant, was suffocating.
Carmen sat rigidly in her chair, wearing a conservative black dress, her palms sweating. Across the table, Mr. and Mrs. Golden glared at her in silence.
It was ten minutes past seven. The mysterious boyfriend had not arrived.
“I knew you were lying,” Mrs. Golden sneered, picking up her wine glass. “You are embarrassing us, Carmen. I will call the lawyers on Monday p>
Before Carmen could respond, the heavy carved wooden doors of the private room swung open. The restaurant manager bowed deeply.
Justin Collins stepped inside.
He wore a flawless, custom-tailored Armani suit. Two Capitol Police bodyguards took their positions in the hallway behind him. The sheer, suffocating aura of political power radiated off him in waves, instantly dominating the entire room.
Mr. Golden, a veteran of the corporate world, recognized the Senator immediately. All the color drained from his face. He practically lurched out of his chair.