Chapter 564

Chapter 563:

Her stomach lurched. Acid rushed back up her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth, turned her head away, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Gaston’s expression darkened immediately.

“Take it away,” he snapped, glaring at the silver tray as though it had personally offended him. “And get those chefs out of my house. Now p>

Mrs. Higgins retreated quickly. The penthouse fell into a heavy, tense silence.

Gaston sat on the edge of the bed and pressed his fingers to his temples. Before he could speak, the intercom on the wall buzzed.

He pressed the button. “What p>

“Mr. Collins,” the head of lobby security said, his voice tight. “We have a situation at the front desk. Elouise Stein is here. I know she is on the absolute blacklist, but she slipped past the outer perimeter in a taxi before the gate sensors flagged her. She is holding a thermos and begging to see your wife p>

The temperature in the bedroom seemed to drop several degrees. Gaston’s dark eyes went completely still.

He glanced over his shoulder. Jocelyn had her eyes closed, her breathing finally evening out into a light sleep.

Gaston stood. He walked out of the bedroom without a sound and pulled the heavy oak door shut behind him. Then he stepped into his private elevator and pressed the button for the lobby.

The doors slid open to the ground floor. Through the thick bulletproof glass of the security vestibule, Gaston saw her.

𝖡𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝖿𝗶𝘳ѕt 𝘵𝗈 𝘳𝘦a𝗱 оn.с𝗈𝗺

Elouise Stein looked like a walking ghost. Her skin had taken on a sickly yellow cast, and her expensive coat hung off an emaciated frame. She clutched a tarnished silver thermos — a forgotten relic from her former life, its intricate engravings dulled with neglect.

When she saw Gaston step from the elevator, a desperate spark of hope lit up her sunken eyes. She shuffled forward on shaking legs, her breath fogging against the glass. “I spent my last twenty dollars on a cab just to get here,” she mumbled to herself.

Gaston did not step through the glass doors. He stood behind the security line, looking down at the woman who had allowed his wife to be locked in a dark attic.

“Gaston, please,” Elouise rasped through the speaker system, her voice a wet, rattling wheeze. “I heard the news. I heard she is pregnant. This is my grandmother’s ginger broth. It stops the nausea. Please — just let me give it to her p>

Gaston let out a short, humorless laugh. It sounded like grinding stones.

“You cut off her trust fund. You sold her to a monster. And now you want to play the loving mother with a thermos of soup?” His voice was devoid of any human warmth. “It makes me physically sick to look at you p>

Tears spilled down Elouise’s hollow cheeks. She coughed violently into her sleeve.

“I am dying,” she sobbed, her knees buckling slightly. “I have cancer. I just want to make one thing right before I die p>

Gaston stepped closer to the glass. His massive frame blocked out the light.