Chapter 544
Chapter 543:
Then he slowly turned his head to look at her. A sudden, dangerous light ignited in his dark eyes, and the corners of his mouth curled into a slow, cruel smile.
“Since we are celebrating our own good news,” Gaston said, his voice dropping to a quiet, lethal register, “I think it is only polite that we make sure everyone knows. Especially the ghosts of your past p>
Jocelyn blinked, confused by the sudden shift in his energy. “What are you going to do p>
Gaston stood up. The predatory energy radiating from his body was suffocating.
“I am going to visit a sick friend in the hospital,” he said.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his executive assistant. “Listen to me very carefully,” he barked into the phone, his tone leaving absolutely no room for error. “I need a specific gift bag prepared in the next twenty minutes. And I want you to call our contact at Page Six. Tell them to meet me at the VIP entrance of Mount Sinai p>
The assistant hesitated. “Sir, the Douglas family has locked down that entire floor. It will look highly aggressive p>
Gaston’s jaw locked. The air around him turned to ice.
“You will do exactly as I say,” he warned, his voice a deadly hiss. “Or you can pack your bags and manage the logistics from our facility in the Sahara. Do you understand p>
“Yes, Mr. Collins. Right away p>
Gaston ended the call. He turned back to Jocelyn, and the cold corporate killer vanished instantly, replaced by the devoted husband. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.
𝘓at𝖾𝘴𝗍 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝗉𝘵𝖾𝗿ѕ 𝗼n
“Rest,” he whispered against her skin. “I will be back before lunch p>
Jocelyn watched him walk toward the private elevator. She knew exactly what he was doing. He was going to publicly execute Kieran’s remaining dignity. And as she sat there in the warmth of her own home, she realized her heart did not hold a single drop of pity for Kieran Douglas.
He deserved every second of it.
Gaston changed into a meticulously tailored charcoal grey suit and tied a dark crimson tie around his neck. He looked like a king preparing to accept the surrender of a conquered nation.
He stepped out of the private elevator and into the underground garage. The black armored Maybach was already idling at the bottom. The driver opened the heavy door, and Gaston slid into the backseat.
“Drive,” he commanded.
The Maybach merged into the heavy Manhattan traffic. Gaston stared out the tinted window, the cruel smile never leaving his face.
At Mount Sinai, the chaos in the ICU had finally settled.
Kieran was alive. The doctors had managed to stabilize his heart rhythm, but he was desperately weak. He lay in the private VIP room with an oxygen tube resting beneath his nose, his eyes open and fixed blankly on the white ceiling tiles. His chest ached with a dull, crushing pain.
His personal assistant stood nervously at the foot of the bed. “Mr. Douglas,” the assistant whispered. “Should I call your parents? They are waiting in the lounge p>