Chapter 39
Chapter 39:
“Who let you in?” Uncle Vincent barked. “This is a closed meeting p>
Jocelyn threw a folder onto the table. It slid across the polished wood and came to rest directly in front of him.
“I let myself in,” she said. “I own twenty percent of this company as of yesterday. That makes me the largest individual shareholder p>
Uncle Vincent opened the folder. He saw the transfer documents. His face went red.
“Robert signed this?” he sputtered. “He must have been drunk p>
“He was perfectly sober,” Jocelyn said. “Or as sober as he gets p>
She turned to the man on Vincent’s right. “Harvey. HR Director p>
The balding man stood up nervously. “Yes, Ms. Wolfe p>
𝖱оm𝖺𝗇𝘤e ո𝘰v𝘦𝗹s 𝗈𝘯
“It’s Mrs. Collins,” Jocelyn corrected. “And you’re fired p>
The room gasped.
“Excuse me?” Harvey squeaked.
“I reviewed the hiring logs last night,” Jocelyn said, her voice carrying clearly across the table. “You fired two senior housekeeping managers last month — single mothers who had been here for ten years — and replaced them with your niece and nephew. Nepotism ends today p>
“You can’t do that!” Uncle Vincent shouted.
“I just did,” Jocelyn said. “Pack your things, Harvey. Security will escort you out p>
She looked around the table. “This is just the beginning. The CFO is next on my list, as soon as the forensic audit I’ve commissioned is complete. But I decided to start with an easy, public execution to set the tone.” Her eyes met each of theirs in turn. “Anyone else want to question my authority p>
Silence.
“Good. Meeting adjourned p>
She walked out, her heart pounding in her ears. Her hands were shaking. She slipped into her new office — Robert’s old office — and shut the door behind her. She leaned against it and exhaled, long and unsteady.
Her phone buzzed.
Gaston: How did it go?
Jocelyn: I didn’t faint. And I fired Harvey.
Gaston: Good girl.
Jocelyn stared at the text. Good girl. It made her toes curl.
A knock at the door. Her new secretary peeked in.
“Mrs. Collins? A delivery for you p>
Two men walked in carrying a massive gift box and set it on the desk.
Jocelyn opened it.
Inside was a set of keys. Porsche. Next to it, a black velvet jewelry box.
She lifted the lid. A pink diamond ring — cushion cut, enormous, flawless — glittered violently under the office lights.
Tucked into the velvet was a black credit card. Centurion. Embossed with Jocelyn Wolfe-Collins.
And a note.
For the new boss. Dress the part. — G.
Jocelyn slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. It was heavy — it felt like a shackle and a shield all at once.
She held up the black card. Unlimited limit.
She looked at the ring again. It was beautiful. But was it a gift of love, or just another prop in the play they were performing?
She thought of Vance. The hand on the shoulder.
Prop, she told herself. It’s just a prop.