Chapter 406
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Chapter 406:
“I did not ruin you,” Jocelyn said, her voice a flat, emotionless void that offered neither anger nor pity. “Your own greed and stupidity did that. Your family’s destruction was your own choice, and it has absolutely nothing to do with me p>
She did not sneer. She did not raise her voice.
“Now disappear from my path. You are nothing to me p>
The words hit Cory’s fragile ego like a sledgehammer. His face flushed a violent, ugly purple. He shook with pure rage and tried to lunge forward again, but the bodyguards’ hands clamped down on his shoulders like iron vices, completely immobilizing him.
At that moment, the chaotic sound of running footsteps echoed across the plaza.
A dozen paparazzi and tabloid reporters, tipped off about the trial, swarmed the bottom of the courthouse steps. Camera flashes erupted in a blinding, aggressive strobe.
“Ms. Wolfe! Ms. Wolfe!” a reporter shouted, shoving a microphone toward the security line. “What is your statement on your stepsister’s guilty plea? Did you orchestrate the Schneider bankruptcy p>
Gaston’s jaw locked. A dangerous shadow passed over his eyes. He refused to let these bloodthirsty vultures turn Jocelyn’s moment of closure into a cheap media circus.
He wrapped his massive arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid chest. He used his height and breadth to completely shield her face from the blinding flashes.
Then he slowly turned his head, sweeping his dark, murderous gaze across the crowd of reporters. The sheer physical threat radiating from his eyes was so intense that the front row of paparazzi actually stumbled backward.
𝘓at𝘦𝗌t 𝘤𝗁ар𝗍𝘦𝘳𝗌 𝘰𝗇
Gaston looked down at Jocelyn.
He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilted her face up, and brought his lips down onto hers in a brutal, consuming, and deeply possessive kiss. It was not a gentle display of affection — it was a territorial claim, an absolute declaration against anyone who dared question her power or his protection.
Jocelyn gasped softly against his mouth, briefly startled by the public intensity. But the heat of his body quickly dissolved her logic. She closed her eyes, her hands sliding up the lapels of his suit jacket, and kissed him back with equal fervor.
The camera shutters fired like machine guns. Every reporter in the crowd knew this image — the billionaire titan publicly claiming his wife on the courthouse steps — would dominate the front page of Page Six by morning.
Gaston finally broke the kiss and immediately pressed Jocelyn’s face into the crook of his neck, hiding her flushed cheeks from the lenses.
“Move,” Gaston ordered his men.
The bodyguards shoved the reporters aside, tearing open a clear path down the stairs. Gaston guided Jocelyn into the back of the waiting armored Rolls-Royce Phantom, climbed in after her, and the heavy bulletproof door slammed shut, instantly cutting off the chaotic screaming of the press.
The car glided smoothly away from the curb.
Gaston reached into his jacket and pulled out his encrypted satellite phone. He dialed his private fixer, Vance. When he spoke, all the warmth from the kiss was gone. His voice had returned to the freezing, mechanical tone of a Wall Street executioner.