Chapter 443
“`
– For each row, replace every instance of “Chapter 443” with “Chapter N” (where N is that row’s chapter number). Do not alter any other text, HTML attributes, or formatting.
Chapter 443:
She picked it up and tapped the voice note from Bella, then opened the photo.
Her heart didn’t race. Her stomach didn’t drop. The old Jocelyn would have spiraled into a panic attack, terrified of being replaced. But the woman sitting in the CEO chair had Gaston’s ring on her finger and his absolute devotion carved into her soul.
Jocelyn zoomed in on the photo.
She bypassed Gaston completely and focused entirely on the woman. She recognized the emerald silk blouse: a limited-edition Tom Ford piece from last season. This wasn’t some cheap club girl.
Jocelyn’s lips curved into a slow, freezing smile.
She didn’t call Gaston. She didn’t cry.
𝘑оi𝗻 𝘁𝗁o𝘶𝘴аn𝖽ѕ o𝖿 f𝗮n𝘴 𝗼𝗇 𝘨a𝗹ո𝗈𝘃e𝘭𝘴.с𝗈m
Jocelyn tapped her intercom button. “Sarah, get in here p>
Her chief assistant hurried into the office with an iPad.
Jocelyn forwarded the photo to Sarah’s encrypted email. “I want a full background check on the woman in this photo. I want her name, her employer, her net worth, and her social circle. You have ten minutes p>
Sarah nodded sharply and practically ran out of the room.
Jocelyn leaned back in her ergonomic leather chair, tapping her manicured fingernails rhythmically against the polished wood of her desk. She wanted to see exactly what kind of idiot thought they could challenge her.
Exactly nine minutes later, a secure PDF dropped into Jocelyn’s inbox.
Jocelyn clicked it open.
The first line of the report glowed brightly on the screen: Chloe Monroe, MD. Top-tier Upper East Side concierge physician. Former exclusive health consultant to Gaston Collins.
The Manhattan skyline glittered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Collins penthouse.
It was past midnight. Jocelyn sat on a velvet barstool at the massive marble kitchen island, wearing a simple black silk robe. A half-empty glass of Cabernet rested near her fingertips.
The heavy front door clicked open.
Gaston walked in. He looked exhausted. The sharp lines of his face were drawn tight, and the faint, bitter smell of cigar smoke clung to his expensive wool coat.
The moment he saw Jocelyn waiting for him, the lethal tension in his shoulders instantly vanished. He stripped off his coat, tossed it onto a chair, and walked straight toward her. Stepping between her parted knees, he wrapped his large hands around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
Jocelyn let her hands slide up his chest, her fingers smoothing the silk of his tie.
“Did your club meeting go well today?” Jocelyn asked. Her voice was perfectly casual, almost bored.
Gaston’s body went completely rigid for a fraction of a second.
His Wall Street instincts were flawless. He caught the microscopic shift in her tone. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t try to hide a single detail.
Gaston pulled back slightly, looking directly into her eyes. “The ECB meeting was fine. But I ran into a deeply irritating ghost from my past in the cigar lounge p>
Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. She reached over, tapped her phone screen, and slid it across the cold marble counter.
The photo Bella had taken glared up at them.