Chapter 472
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Chapter 472:
Jocelyn set her knife and fork down with perfect composure and offered her father-in-law a tight, polished smile. “I apologize, Mr. Collins,” she said, using the formal address deliberately. “The European financing deal has been extremely stressful. It has nothing to do with Gaston p>
The fact that she was distancing herself from him — in front of his own father, at his family’s table — was the final straw.
Gaston let out a low, mocking scoff. “Yes. Ms. Wolfe is highly independent. She doesn’t need her husband for anything. She prefers to handle her stress entirely alone p>
Jocelyn’s head snapped toward him. Her eyes blazed with furious indignation. The invisible wall between them ignited instantly into open flame.
“Enough!” Elbert slammed his palm flat on the table. The silverware jumped. “This dinner is over p>
Ten minutes later, the front doors of the estate opened onto the freezing night air.
A servant moved to help Jocelyn with her heavy wool coat, but Gaston was faster. He snatched it, stepped behind her, and pulled it roughly over her shoulders. His large hand closed around her wrist like a steel shackle.
“We are going home,” he said quietly into her ear.
𝖱𝖾𝗮𝖽 𝗐і𝘁𝗁о𝘶𝗍 іnt𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝗉𝘁𝘪o𝗻s 𝘰𝗇 ѕ.𝖼𝘰m
Jocelyn tried to pull her arm free. It was useless. Gaston guided her firmly down the stone steps and into the backseat of the waiting bulletproof Maybach. He climbed in immediately after her, and the heavy door slammed shut, sealing them inside the dark, hushed cabin.
In the driver’s seat, Old Chen glanced once into the rearview mirror, read Gaston’s expression with the precision of long experience, and pressed a button without a word. The thick soundproof privacy partition glided smoothly upward, sealing the backseat off entirely.
Gaston reached up and tore his silk tie loose. He turned, his large frame filling the space between them, and planted his hands on either side of Jocelyn’s head against the leather seat, caging her in the corner.
“Now,” he said, his voice a low, vibrating threat. “No work. No family. No running away. You are going to tell me exactly why you are punishing me p>
The Maybach glided smoothly down the Long Island Expressway, the tires humming against the dark asphalt.
Inside the back cabin, the ambient lighting cast sharp shadows across Gaston’s cheekbones. He was leaning over Jocelyn, his massive chest rising and falling with heavy, controlled breaths. Jocelyn pressed her back hard against the leather seat and turned her face toward the tinted window, watching the passing streetlights blur past, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill.
“Look at me, Jocelyn,” Gaston said.
His large hand reached out and gripped her chin — gently but without room for argument — turning her face back toward his.
“What did Isabelle Sterling say to you?” His voice was low and relentless. “I know she was in your office. I know she poisoned you. Tell me p>
The name was the spark that ignited the powder keg.
Jocelyn’s chest heaved. She knocked his hand away from her face, and the grief and humiliation she had been compressing for days boiled over into pure, scalding rage.